‘By the mass!’ cried Gaudin angrily, ‘my sword can answer the curiosity of any one better than my tongue.’
‘It is the more innocent weapon of the two in Paris just at present,’ said Marotte. ‘O my reputation!’
Gaudin looked towards Marie. By the quivering of a jewelled aigrette that formed a portion of her head-dress, he could see that she was trembling, and her hand tightly clutched part of the rich curtain that hung beside her.
‘Chut!’ cried Lauzun, observing Sainte-Croix’s kindling temper; ‘to your play.’
‘Nine!’ said Guadin, throwing his dice, as he caught at the opportunity of turning the subject.
‘Nine also,’ observed Chavagnac, throwing.
‘Ten!’ exclaimed Guadin. ‘Will you pay me half, or run the chance?’
‘I will play,’ replied Chavagnac, gently shaking the dice-box. ‘Twelve.’
‘Peste!’ cried Gaudin, ‘you have gained them. I thought my dice knew better than that.’
‘You forgot whose they were to play against,’ said Chavagnac with a grim smile, taking up the money. ‘Come, I shall be in funds again. Lauzun’s hospitality has kept me from the high-road. The twelve hundred pistoles I appropriated from the good people of the Garonne were nearly gone.’