Chapter XVII.
The Captain arranged the card-table, whilst Fritz removed the tea-things. We took our seats, and the General, as I thought, fixed the counters tolerably high.
The old man seemed to undergo a thorough change the moment he held the cards in his hand. His dull, sleepy eyes brightened with intelligence and sparkled with enthusiasm. Every limb moved; the tips of his fingers trembled, and yet they still held the cards firmly whilst he examined them to calculate, with mathematical precision, what was wanting in ours. His pale cheeks flushed a deep red, his nostrils expanded or contracted according to the chances of the game; and the melancholy man, who usually sat with his head bowed down as though overburdened, was of a sudden seized by a spirit of audacity, of rashness, of foolhardiness, that not seldom gained him splendid success, and reminded me of the saying, “Good luck is with the rash man.” It certainly is with the audacious player.
As for myself I made many blunders, which greatly amused my companions. I had already lost a considerable sum, when the door opened and Francis appeared in evening costume.
I threw down my cards on the table to offer her a chair. The General, who sat with his back to the door, looked at me angrily, whilst the Captain cried—
“Our Major in full dress.”
“What strange whim is this?” growled the General, with difficulty suppressing his anger, for he had an excellent hand of cards this time. “The whole day you have gone about like a Cinderella, and now——”
“The fairy has come, and I appear as a princess,” replied Francis.
“And the famous glass slipper is not wanting,” I said, admiring the beautiful little slippers peeping out from under her dress.
“Perhaps; but I will take care not to lose it.”