“Since that,” she said, “I have heard of my father’s death, but I do not know what has become of my mother.”
After some further conversation she told me she was a faithful wife, though she did not push fidelity so far as to drive a rich lover to despair.
“I have no lovers here,” she added, “but I give little suppers to a few friends. I don’t mind the expense, as I win some money at faro.”
She was the banker, and she begged me to join the party now and then.
“I will come after the play to-night,” I replied, “but you must not expect any high play of me.”
I kept the appointment and supped with a number of silly young tradesmen, who were all in love with her.
After supper she held a bank, and I was greatly astonished when I saw her cheating with great dexterity. It made me want to laugh; however, I lost my florins with a good grace and left. However, I did not mean to let Irene think she was duping me, and I went to see her next morning at rehearsal, and complimented her on her dealing. She pretended not to understand what I meant, and on my explaining myself she had the impudence to tell me that I was mistaken.
In my anger I turned my back on her saying, “You will be sorry for this some day.”
At this she began to laugh, and said, “Well, well, I confess! and if you tell me how much you lost you shall have it back, and if you like you shall be a partner in the game.”
“No, thank you, Irene, I will not be present at any more of your suppers. But I warn you to be cautious; games of chance are strictly forbidden.”