“Where they are playing?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The cardinal had just raised himself on one elbow, and made a sign to the king’s brother, who went to him.
“My lord,” said the cardinal, “pick up, if you please, all those gold crowns.” And he pointed to the enormous pile of yellow and glittering pieces which the Comte de Guiche had raised by degrees before him by a surprising run of luck at play.
“For me?” cried the Duc d’Anjou.
“Those fifty thousand crowns; yes, monseigneur, they are yours.”
“Do you give them to me?”
“I have been playing on your account, monseigneur,” replied the cardinal, getting weaker and weaker, as if this effort of giving money had exhausted all his physical and moral faculties.
“Oh, good heavens!” exclaimed Philip, wild with joy, “what a fortunate day!” And he himself, making a rake of his fingers, drew a part of the sum into his pockets, which he filled, and still full a third remained on the table.
“Chevalier,” said Philip to his favorite, the Chevalier de Lorraine, “come hither, chevalier.” The favorite quickly obeyed. “Pocket the rest,” said the young prince.