'Nothing can be more proper, sir,' stammered out young Olivier, 'I am ready to satisfy you; but, after all, you know that . . . .
gaming debts . . . . my word . . . .'
'The d—l! sir,' said the pretended count, giving the table a violent blow with his fist—'Why do you talk to me about your WORD. Gad! You are well entitled to appeal to the engagements of honour! Well! We have now to play another game on this table, and we must speak out plainly. Monsieur Olivier de ——, you are a rogue . . . Yes, a rogue! The cards we have been using are biseautees and YOU brought them hither.'
'Sir! . . You insult me!' said Olivier.
'Indeed? Well, sir, that astonishes me!' replied the false Belgian ironically.
'That is too much, sir. I demand satisfaction, and that on the very instant. Do you understand me? Let us go out at once.'
'No! no! We must end this quarrel here, sir. Look here—your two friends shall be your "seconds;" I am now going to send for MINE.'
The card-sharper, who had risen at these words, rang the bell violently. His own servant entered. 'Go,' said he, 'to the Procureur de Roi, and request him to come here on a very important matter. Be as quick as you can.'
'Oh, sir, be merciful! Don't ruin me!' exclaimed the wretched Olivier; 'I will do what you like.' At these words, the sharper told his servant to wait behind the door, and to execute his order if he should hear nothing to the contrary in ten minutes.
'And now, sir,' continued the sharper, turning to Olivier, 'and now, sir, for the business between you and me. These cards have been substituted by you in the place of those which I supplied . . . You must do them up, write your name upon the cover, and seal it with the coat of arms on your ring.'