"And which of us is to be so honored, Chevalier?" inquired d'Epernon.
"It is a difficult choice, I confess. However, choice must be. Monsieur le Comte, will you try three turns with me?"
There was a little round of glances as Claude bowed, murmuring appreciation of the honor.
"The dice, then!" cried the King. "Richelieu, your cup. We will play with but one."
"And he who throws twice best shall win?" repeated the Duke.
"Yes."
"What are the stakes?" inquired the Baron, gently.
Claude's heart sank, while his cousin dared not allow his sympathy to appear. It was frequently ruinous work, this gaming with a King; and the revenues of the younger branch of the house of de Mailly were not great.
"The stakes," returned Louis, with a long glance at his opponent, "shall be, on my side—" he threw back his cloak, unbuttoned a plain surtout, and from his ruffles unfastened a diamond star of great value—"this." He placed it upon the table.
There was a little, regular murmur of conventional admiration. Claude bit his lip thoughtfully. "And mine?" he asked, looking squarely at the King.