Dan's slow, halting French made the Countess listen very attentively, that she might understand just what he said. She puckered her brow thoughtfully, then suddenly glanced up, laughing with all the witchery at her command.
"Then, my dear American," she said insinuatingly, "I fear that you are going to refuse me a very great favor."
"I hope not," Dan replied, gallantly.
"There is," pursued the Countess, "such a thing as luck. Often a prophecy of that luck is to be seen in one's face. I see such luck written in your face now. Since you will not play for yourself, I had hoped that you would be willing to let me have the benefit of a little of the luck that is so plainly written on your face. I had hoped, up to this instant, that you would consent to play as my proxy."
The Countess was looking at him in a way that would have melted many a man into agreeing to her wishes, but Dan answered promptly:
"I regret, Countess, to be compelled to refuse your request, but I would not play for myself, nor for anyone else."
"If you so detest Monte Carlo and its pursuits," replied the Countess with a pout, "I cannot understand why you are here."
"There was something useful to be gained from witnessing the sights here, but I have seen as much as I wish," Dalzell went on, "and now I am ready to leave. I am returning to my ship as soon as Darrin is ready to go."
"And he, also, is tired of Monte Carlo?" asked Countess Ripoli.
"Darrin's views are much the same as my own," Dan responded quietly.