The pipe represented a mermaid, whose double twisted tail curled around the stem as far as the amber mouthpiece and whose seductive head had been hollowed for the bowl. Schleifmann could not conceal his admiration.
“It is marvelous ... colossal, colossal!” he repeated, using the German expression which to him signified supreme enthusiasm.... “I am going to smoke it now.... Waiter, matches!”
Uncle Cyprien watched the preparations for the inauguration with a glorious and softened feeling.
“Exquisite!” Schleifmann declared, after two whiffs. “A child could smoke it.... You are very kind, my dear Cyprien.”
He took up the case and examined the lining, a coat of dark red plush with the make name stamped in gold letters. Brusquely, he knocked on the table with his fist.
“Raindal!” he shouted. “Look me in the eyes!”
“Here!” the ex-official replied, looking furtively at his friend, his face slantwise.
“You are gambling at the Bourse, my friend!”
“I!” said Uncle Cyprien, in shocked rebellion.
“Yes, you! This address tells me everything: Place de la Bourse! You are gambling on the mines!... Have a care, Raindal! This is an adventure which may cost a great deal more than you imagine!”