“What sort of bet is that—two sous!” exclaimed La Thomassinière contemptuously; “do you suppose that I play for copper? It’s vulgar enough to play for a crown. Take that away, monsieur, it’s covered with verdigris.”
“It’s my two sous, monsieur; I bet them.”
“No one wants them, monsieur.”
“What! have I won already?”
“Here, I’ll fix that,” said Destival, taking a ten-sou piece from his pocket; “I’ll add eight sous to make up Monin’s bet. So I stake three francs forty, and you, my dear fellow, three francs ten. My neighbor is prudent, you see, and yet he is very rich, in very comfortable circumstances. His nest is well feathered, the rascal!”
“Then how can he propose to bet two sous?” said La Thomassinière; “it’s beyond belief.—Ace, ace, and ace. You are robbed.”
“What! does he admit that he has robbed us?” Monin asked his neighbor in an undertone.
“That means that we have lost.—Well, now for our revenge.—Aren’t you betting, Madame Destival?”
“No, monsieur, I prefer to listen to the singing.”
“Betting won’t prevent you, madame; I don’t lose a note while I am playing.”