"And I a hundred and twenty. I am a long way behind. Do we count the fifteen hundred?"
"To be sure; when you get three béziques, they count fifteen hundred. But, in order to count them, you must still have the first two in hand."
"Yes, yes, I know that. What is it they're singing now? Something else from La Dame Blanche, I think."
"It's your play, monsieur le comte."
"Yes, so it is; I beg your pardon. It's that man's voice that confuses me, or rather stuns me. Oh! what a squealer! Poor girl! she has a stock of patience."
"I declare a royal marriage!"
"You are counting all the time, Monsieur Batonnin; you are very lucky to be able to attend to your game."
"I try not to listen.—Single bézique!"
It was difficult not to hear the young singer, who at that moment was shouting, with all the force of his lungs:
"'Thith hand, thith hand tho lovely!'"