"You certainly ain't on your game, old man. I've got six francs to eat up; that's not bad, and I don't want you to ruin yourself treating us."
Sans-Cravate took Jean Ficelle's place, after asking Laboussole:
"Have you had enough?"
"I! nonsense! do I ever cry baby? I'm always on deck when a friend proposes a game. Besides, as I said just now, luck may come my way; she's a female, so she ought to change often. What are we playing for?"
"Whatever you say."
"A thirty-sou piece——"
"The devil! that's rather high!"
"We must make the game interesting."
"All right; thirty sous it is."
The game began; Jean Ficelle took his stand behind Sans-Cravate. Monsieur Laboussole frequently looked up into the air, as if to invoke Fortune and implore her to smile upon him; but his eyes always met Jean Ficelle's, who signalled to him with his fingers.