He could not have told how long he had been sitting absorbed in thought, when a loud noise at the gaming-table suddenly startled him. Something unusual seemed to have happened; Hans Redebas and Brandow alone retained their seats, the others were bending over the table with eager faces; even Rieke was gazing so intently that she forgot to push away the Assessor's arm, which had been thrown around her waist.
"Do you take it again?" cried Redebas.
"Yes."
"Another thousand? That will make it five!"
"Devil take it, yes!"
A breathless silence followed, in which Gotthold heard nothing but the noise of the cards Redebas dealt, and then another outcry and tumult, such as had previously roused him from his revery, only this time it was so loud that even the drunken Pastor staggered out of his corner. Gotthold approached the table. His first glance rested upon Brandow's face, which was deadly pale; but his thin lips were firmly compressed, and a disagreeable smile even sparkled in his stern, cold eyes, as he now cried, turning to the new-comer:
"They have plucked me finely, Gotthold; but night never lasts forever."
"But this," cried Redebas throwing the cards on the table, and making a memorandum in his pocket-book, "I decline!"
"What does that mean?" asked Brandow.
"That I will play no more," answered Redebas with a loud laugh, closing his pocket-book and rising heavily.