This proposal decided every one to remain. The company returned to the large dining-room, which, in the mean time, had been again transformed into a gaming-hall, with the usual accessories: a frame for the tally-sheet, a metal bowl to hold rejected playing-cards set in one end of the table, and, placed at intervals around it, were tablets on which the punter registered the amount of the stakes.
On reentering this apartment, Henri de Prerolles approached a sort of counter, and, drawing from his pocket thirty thousand francs in bank-notes, he exchanged them for their value in mother-of-pearl “chips” of different sizes, representing sums from one to five, ten, twenty-five, or a hundred louis. Paul Landry took twenty-five thousand francs’ worth; Constantin Unaieff, fifteen thousand; the others, less fortunate or more prudent, took smaller sums; and about midnight the game began.
CHAPTER III. THE GAME
It began quietly enough, the two principal players waiting, before making any bold strokes, to see how the luck should run. The first victory was in favor of Henri, who, at the end of a hand dealt by Constantin Lenaieff, had won about three hundred Louis. Just at this moment the two women returned, accompanied by Desvanneaux.
“I had some difficulty in persuading our charming friends to return,” said he; “Mademoiselle Dorville was determined that some one should escort her to her own house.”
“You, perhaps, Desvanneaux,” said Henri, twisting up the ends of his moustache.
“Not at all,” said Fanny; “I wished Heloise to go with me. I have noticed that when I am here you always lose. I fear I have the evil eye.”
“Say, rather, that you have no stomach,” said Heloise. “Had you made your debut, as I made mine, with Frederic Lemaitre in ‘Thirty Years in the Life of an Actor’”
“It certainly would not rejuvenate her,” said Henri, finishing the sentence.