His attitude was uncompromising, his announcement bewildering, but Piquette was undismayed.
"The red, Monsieur," she said calmly, and before he could prevent, shoved a pile of the gold coins upon the color. And the Duc, aghast at her impudence, sat for a moment scowling at his pile of money, the gambler in him arrested by the fascinating click of the little ball.
"Red wins," announced Piquette, echoing the croupier. "You see, Monsieur, it will be wise for you to treat me with more politeness."
And as he still sat as though fascinated by the turn of his fortune, and made no motion to prevent her, she put all the money she had won for him on the black. Black won and Piquette laughed gayly, while the woman beside de Vautrin sat in silence.
"It does not do to venture here with strange Goddesses."
She glanced rather scornfully at the Duc's companion and straightened.
"Again, Madame," muttered de Vautrin, "the wheel runs for you."
"I have finished," said Piquette firmly. "It is enough."
"No," growled the Duc, thrusting his winnings again upon the black.
"You will lose," said Piquette calmly, watching the leaping of the little ball. He did—all that she had won for him. He tried again, lost more, then turned on her with a frown.