“By playing. I hate to play, but if I do I have an idea I can win. At least I can afford to risk a thousand francs and with that I propose to win back the two thousand you need to take you to Paris.”
“No, no. You mustn’t play. No one ever wins there. You’ll lose everything.”
“Leave it to me. Come on now, it’s decided. That you trust me, is all I ask. Everything will come out right. In six weeks I promise you I’ll send you back to Paris with enough money to start your little shop. Brother and sister,—n’est ce pas?”
She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I am in your hands. You can do with me as you will.”
Again he laughed that boyish laugh. “There! don’t look so tragic. Everything’s lovely. Come on, we’ll get back to the pension.”
They walked in silence through the exotic gardens. The pink clock in the tower of the Casino pointed to half an hour after midnight; the shutters were descending over the entrance doors. He looked at the place with a new interest. Hitherto it had meant nothing to him. Now he saw in it an antagonist. He was looking on a battle-ground where he would win or fall. On the morrow the fight would begin.
So absorbed was he that he forgot the girl by his side. Then a soft sound aroused him. He looked down and saw that she was crying.
END OF BOOK TWO