Madame did not look up. Her face darkened as she cut and dealt the cards.
Hugo appeared to understand, for he said in a quiet tone, “I would like my fortune told.”
Madame looked up. Something like a dark frown passed over her face. Madame had lived long and in many lands. There were faces that to her were like an open book in a bright light. She read them with greatest ease.
“Today,” she said slowly, “we have traveled far.”
Then she shuffled and dealt once more.
Hugo grew impatient. He opened his lips to utter harsh words, when Madame said:
“Cross my palm with silver.”
Carelessly, Hugo threw a silver half dollar on the rug. The frown on Madame’s face deepened.
“Here are the cards,” she said in an even tone. “You must sit down before me. You must shuffle them well. You will cut them with your left hand—this is very important, then you will deal them six in a row, then eight in a row for five rows, after that six in a row once more. All must be face up with pictures toward me. To deal wrongly is sure to bring bad fortune.”
Hugo’s hand trembled as he cut and dealt the cards. Darkness had fallen. Only the glimmer of a small fire lighted up the cards and Madame’s dark face. Despite his care, he turned the picture of a snake toward himself.