For an hour longer, the game was very brisk. At the end of that time, Albert, who had lost twelve hundred francs, threw himself on the couch, saying:
"I've had enough, messieurs; I am going to sleep here till daylight."
The other four young men continued the game for some time. At last, Célestin, who had won largely and had no desire to lose what he had won, pretended that he too was sleepy, and lay down on the divan. Mouillot, Balivan, and Varinet played on for a considerable time, until Balivan, having lost heavily, left the table, saying:
"I am going to bed."
"Now it's between us," said Mouillot to the young man with white eyebrows; "a brûlot."
"What! can two play bouillotte?"
"Oh, yes! and it's very interesting. It's for the one whose turn it is to bet, to speak; if he sees nothing in his hand, he puts in a chip, and the other does the same. It's a game you can play a long while without saying a word, as you pass very often."
Varinet consented to play; but Mouillot, who was decidedly lucky at two-handed bouillotte, and who played a very shrewd game, soon won all his opponent's money; Varinet had nothing left but the olive, and he proposed to stake that; but Mouillot, who was not anxious to win it, preferred to follow the example of the others and take a little nap. He lay down beside Célestin on the divan.
The young man with white eyebrows reclined in an easy-chair, and soon everybody was asleep in the artist's studio, where the most absolute quiet had succeeded the noisy outbursts of merriment engendered by the fumes of the punch.