1936 On the Continent

their greed with consummate skill. A player rarely allows his disappointment to show when things go wrong.
    The most curious phenomenon of all is perhaps the apparent disregard of the value of money, though money is the goal toward which all efforts tend. All that for twelve weary months has been put aside for the holidays may be lost in an hour. All that a stroke of luck has shovelled towards a winner may be spent in five minutes.
    If you go to the rooms you will notice that the women, who are of course admitted and who may go there alone, are not one whit less gamblers than the men. There is a great number of them and they are great believers in “systems,” which they elaborate with much cunning. They undoubtedly add a charming note to the long nights spent at or near the tables.
    Muriel was very excited by all this. She wanted to play, and risked a twenty-franc piece on the red—which was the wrong colour, of course. Then twenty francs went on the black, which was as unlucky as the red had been. She was very disappointed, but was somewhat comforted when I told her that this sort of thing often occurred ten times in succession.
We Win
    “I’ll try numbers this time,” said she, and threw five francs on the cloth. She played 17, and her stake, multiplied by thirty-five, was handed to her … this little stroke brought her 175 francs. I congratulated her, and urged her to try her luck again, but she was firm. She pocketed her winnings and turned her back on the tables, declaring that all this was too much for her poor heart.
    This is the way with most players; when they lose they will willingly empty their pockets, pursuing chance, but if they win, they rarely chance their luck again.
    Muriel, to console me for my series of losses, offered me a drink, which I accepted, though I explained that in Belgium ladies did not stand drinks as a rule. We then betook ourselves to the Casino Imperial, whose gaming rooms Muriel also wanted to see.
    Here there are not so many people, and they are perhaps more select. Most of them are English, certainly a good half of the players. Two exquisitely dressed women with sleek platinum blonde hair are there. Lady So-and-So and her daughter. One might take them for sisters. One man is so absorbed in higher mathematics that he does not even raise his head. The ventilators are for ever spinning, and the giant palms stir slightly in the breeze. We went straight to the bar. Muriel chose a delightful and innocent drink, while I ordered a whisky.
    “But that is spirits,” remarked Muriel.
    I then explained that as we were in a private club, not accessible to the public, anything might be taken.
    “I’ll understand some day,” said Muriel. And then we chatted and made the acquaintance of some charming visitors from England.
The Coast
    The following day we decided to see Ostend more thoroughly: the port, the fish market, the covered market, so picturesque and colourful, the old quarter with its fine patrician houses, the two parks, the Pump Room—Palais des Thermes—the Napoleon fort, which is Ostend’s war museum. We walked to the end of the pier, which stretches for 700 metres into the sea, and we just had time, before bathing, to see a tennis match. In the afternoon we went to the race-course, the Wellington Hippodrome, which is exceedingly well planned and from which one can see, stretching on one side, the sunlit and murmuring sea, and on the other the limitless expanse of flat Flemish country, out of which, like islands in a green sea, rise the farms and houses of Flanders.
    We saw thoroughbreds race here, wearing the colours of world-famed stables. All the race-horses from the race-courses round Brussels, open during the winter months, run here in July and August, during which periodseveral Grand Prix races are run. This is one of the foremost afternoon attractions along the coast.
    After a brief call for tea at the Kursaal, which was crowded with tireless and fashionable dancers, we decided to explore the coast further.
    We set out for Le Zoute, the Belgian coastal resort which lies closest to the Dutch frontier. If Ostend may be considered the most important, the most international of our seaside towns, and the one that can provide the most varied entertainments, Le Zoute is without doubt the most elegant and distinguished. It is also the resort most favoured by English visitors. It might almost be considered a half English town, and it is there that you should go after