It would be difficult to describe the expression of his valiant companion's face while Cédrille was speaking. Chevalier Passedix, ordinarily yellow, became green one moment, then violet, then ash-colored; his features seemed to lengthen, his cheeks to sink in more than usual; his eyes flashed fire, and he muttered, clenching his fists:
"This passes all bounds! He hasn't a sou, and he wants to enjoy himself in Paris! What an ignorant fool!—Ah! if you were not your cousin's cousin! what pleasure it would give me to thrash you, knave! to teach you to hang on my arm when your pockets are empty!—But the omelet will soon be here, and they will take it away again! That will be an outrage! Vertuchoux! at embarrassing moments one must be bold; fortune favors the brave!—another proverb. Let us stake all to win all!"
And Passedix, turning to his neighbors the dice throwers, suddenly exclaimed:
"Twelve! that's a good throw, but, damn the odds! I will stake six livres tournois against monsieur!"
The bourgeois who had just thrown the dice stared at the chevalier and rejoined:
"You don't know the game; we have three dice, and the one who throws nearest to fifteen wins; I have thrown twelve; I have a great many chances in my favor, for anything above fifteen loses."
"I know the game as well as the man who invented it; that doesn't prevent my saying that I will stake six livres tournois against you."
"Very good! I take your bet."
"All right! agreed!—Now, it's your turn, monsieur, on whom I am betting."
The other gambler, after casting a surprised glance at the Gascon, took the dicebox and shook it, saying: