property, and then disappeared from society.

In calling up my recollections of the Salon des Etrangers, some forty
years since, I see before me the noble form and face of the Hungarian
Count Hunyady, the chief gambler of the day, who created considerable
sensation in his time. He became tres a la mode: his horses, carriage,
and house were considered perfect, while his good looks were the theme
of universal admiration. There were ladies' cloaks "a la Huniade," whilst
the illustrious Borel, of the Rocher de Cancaile, named new dishes after
the famous Hungarian. Hunyady's luck for a long time was prodigious:
no bank could resist his attacks; and at one time he must have been
a winner of nearly two millions of francs. His manners were particularly
calm and gentlemanlike; he sat apparently unmoved, with his right hand
in the breast of his coat, whilst thousands depended upon the turning
of a card or the hazard of a die. His valet, however, confided to some
indiscreet friend that his nerves were not of such iron temper as he
would have made people believe, and that the count bore in the morning
the bloody marks of his nails, which he had pressed into his chest in
the agony of an unsuccessful turn of fortune. The streets of Paris
were at that time not very safe; consequently the Count was usually
attended to his residence by two gensdarmes, in order to prevent his
being attacked by robbers. Hunyady was not wise enough (what gamblers
are?) to leave Paris with his large winnings, but continued as usual
to play day and night. A run of bad luck set in against him, and he
lost not only the whole of the money he had won, but a very large portion
of his own fortune. He actually borrowed 50£. of the well-known Tommy
Garth - who was himself generally more in the borrowing than the lending
line - to take him back to Hungary.