a fine ... den of thieves. The suicide of losers is quite a regular thing.

Suvorin _fils_ lost 300 francs.

We shall soon see each other. I am weary of wandering over the face of the
earth. One must draw the line. My heels are sore as it is.




TO HIS BROTHER MIHAIL.

NICE,
Monday in Holy Week, April, 1891.


We are staying in Nice, on the sea-front. The sun is shining, it is warm,
green and fragrant, but windy. An hour's journey from Nice is the famous
Monaco. There is Monte Carlo, where roulette is played. Imagine the rooms
of the Hall of Nobility but handsomer, loftier and larger. There are big
tables, and on the tables roulette--which I will describe to you when I get
home. The day before yesterday I went over there, played and lost. The game
is fearfully fascinating. After losing, Suvorin _fils_ and I fell to
thinking it over, and thought out a system which would ensure one's
winning. We went yesterday, taking five hundred francs each; at the first
staking I won two gold pieces, then again and again; my waistcoat pockets
bulged with gold. I had in hand French money even of the year 1808, as well
as Belgian, Italian, Greek, and Austrian coins.... I have never before seen
so much gold and silver. I began playing at five o'clock and by ten I had
not a single franc in my pocket, and the only thing left me was the