He sighed a little
as he thought of the money being lost and won in the stuffy ill-lighted
rooms at the back of the houses, shut out from view of the authorities.
Like most of his race, he was fond of the excitement of gambling. But
of what use were regrets and sighs? he had no money, and must needs go
home. It was vain to try and borrow or to ask credit for his losses; in
these gambling hells what is lost must be immediately paid, for tempers
are inflamed by drink and knives are worn at each player's belt.
But he sighed, none the less, at the hard necessity that compelled him
to pass down the street without once entering the doors of a tavern. It
was very hot, and he had smoked many cigarettes. He would have been glad
to call for a drink. The tavern-keepers, though they were his friends,
expected to be paid. One or two women beckoned to him, who would have
willingly offered him wine, but he was proud enough to ignore them.
He became more moody and dejected as he went along, silent and sober
amid so much revelry. When he reached his house he saw a drunken man
lying on the threshold asleep.
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