Towards democracy

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Monte Carlo 439

The little bald director on his high chair, white-skinned sand white-haired, with big head, and quick beady eyes glancing lithrough strong spectacles, watching closely the crcupiers and lithe public ;

The detectives among the throng ;

The arrival at one of the tables of a roll of notes for hundred thousand franes, to support the failing bank—the ilittle stir of excitement among the gamblers, and the added istakes in consequence.

And now, outside, the sun has sunk.

Light-blue and white the calm sea lies beyond the palm. mronds, white sails speck the horizon, and the blue shadows ron the silent hills are beautiful.

The fishermen have finished their haul, and stand chatting ton the beach as they thumb from the meshes of the net and gitore in baskets the fish, which bring them a few pence for dheir day’s labor, presently to be served up at fabulous prices mm the restaurants.

The goatherds drive their goats homeward, with tinkling sgells, and peering over the rocks look downward on the Eden fwhich they may not enter.

The primitive peasant-woman, with great mouth and ears ainlearned of aught so modern as French or Italian, returns to dhe arched streets of her hill-top village—Roccabruna or Eza wr Turbia—and ere the glow of sunset dies from the sky is zast asleep.

But the lights of the Casino shine reflected in the water, and the strains of the band, through the scented air, vibrate 3

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