“No, no,—let it stay,” whispered a voice in my ear; “the sooner this is over the better.”
I turned. It was Duchesne himself, who for some time had been seated behind my chair and looking on at the game.
Fleeting as was the glance I had of his features, I fancied they were somewhat paler than usual. Could this be from the turn of fortune? But no. I watched him now, and I perceived that he never even looked at the game. At last, I staked all that remained in one coup, and lost; when, drawing forth my own purse, I was about to make another bet,—
“No, no, Burke,” whispered he in my ear; “I was only waiting for this moment. Let us come away now. I rise as I sat down, Messieurs,” he said, gayly; while he added, in a lower tone, “Sauf l'honneur.”
“Have you had enough of gayety for one night?” said he, as he drew my arm within his. “Shall we turn home wards?”
“Willingly,” said I; for somehow I felt chagrined and vexed at my ill-luck, and was angry with myself for playing.
“Come along, then; this door will bring us to the stairs.”
As we passed along hastily through the crowd, I saw that a young officer in a hussar uniform whispered something in Duchesne's ear; to which he quickly replied, “Certainly.” And as he spoke again in the same low tone, Duchesne answered, “Agreed, sir,” with a courteous smile, and a look of much pleasure.
“Well, Burke,” said he, turning to me, “these are about the most splendid salons in Paris; I think I never saw more perfect taste. I certainly must thank you for being my chaperon here.”
“You forget, Duchesne, the Duchesse de Montserrat, it seems,” said I, laughing.