And having picked up the three dice and put them in his box, he played, and threw only five.
Passedix was radiant; his face lighted up, and he began to laugh uproariously, opening his enormous mouth and showing his sharp fangs.
"I have lost," said the shopkeeper; "well, we are just where we started.—I think it's time to go home, compère."
But at that moment the odor of cooked eggs reached their nostrils. Poussinet appeared, carrying in both hands a pewter platter upon which was the enormous omelet; under one arm he had a jug of wine, and under the other a round loaf.
The waiter gazed admiringly at the omelet, but he walked with slow and measured steps, like a person who expects a catastrophe, or one who is marching to the sacrifice.
The odor of the dish so eagerly coveted dilated the chevalier's nostrils; he seized the shopkeeper by his doublet as he was about to leave the table, and said:
"Well! are we to stop at that? Don't you know that among gentlemen, when each wins a game, the rubber is always played?"
"The rubber! the rubber! But it is late, and I ought to be at home."
"You will be there a few minutes late! What a misfortune! But we cannot afford to play like children, with no result; everyone would laugh at us! Come! it will take but a minute!"
And Passedix retained his hold on the tradesman's doublet, which he was very careful not to release, for Poussinet had already said twice: