"I, monsieur? Oh!" Evidently she had recognized me. "I have dropped no gold here,"—striving to check the hiccoughs into which her sobs had turned.
"But I found it close to your feet," I explained.
"It is not mine, monsieur; it is not mine! Leave me."
"You are in trouble?" I addressed this question in English.
"You are English?"—as one who grasps at a straw.
"Almost; I am an American. I observed you at the Casino to-night. You have suffered some losses," I suggested gently.
"That is my affair, sir!"—with sudden dignity.
"May I not offer you some aid?" I asked, forgetting that, if anything, I was worse off than she could possibly be. I turned the louis over and over. What a terrible thing gambling was! "My proposal is perfectly honorable. I am a gentleman. You have committed a folly to-night, a folly which you have never before committed and which doubtless you will never commit again. Where is your brother? Are you here alone, without masculine protection?"
"My brother?"
The rockets soared again; and the agony written on the girl's face excited something stronger than pity. I fumbled in a pocket and drew forth a card.