"Does it frighten you, Monsieur Tobie?"
"I don't say that. What's the stake?"
"Five francs."
The stout youth felt in his pocket, where he found only enough for one stake and half of another. However, he assumed a self-assured air as he took the seat vacated by Célestin, while the artist replaced the jovial Mouillot.
"Célestin has made his little pile!" laughed Albert.
"I? oh, no! I have made myself good, that's all!—Come, Balivan, to return to your pretty neighbor,—do you want to bet my portrait that I don't succeed in seducing her?"
"Yes. But let us understand each other: if I lose, I'll paint your portrait for nothing."
"Just so."
"But if I win?"
"Then I'll pay you for the portrait."