I shall never forget my first sight of the famous gaming-tables in the outer rooms—for we were not venturing into the inner at present. Aside from the glamour of the crowd—which was as impressive as an opera first night—and the decorative quality of the room which was unduly rich and brilliant, I was most vividly impressed by the vast quantities of money scattered so freely over the tables, small piles of gold louis, stacks of eight, ten, fifteen and even twenty-five franc pieces, layers of pale crisp bank-notes whose value was anywhere from one hundred to one thousand francs. It was like looking through the cashier’s window of an immense bank. The mechanism and manipulation of the roulette wheel I did not understand at first nor the exact duties of the many croupiers seated at each table. Their cry of “Rien ne va plus!” and the subsequent scraping together of the shining coin with the little rakes or the throwing back of silver, gold and notes to the lucky winner gripped my attention like a vise. “Great God!” I thought, “supposing I was to win a thousand pounds with my fifteen. I should stay in Europe an entire year.”
Like all beginners I watched the process with large eyes and then seeing Barfleur get back five gold louis for one placed on a certain number I ventured one of my own. Result: three louis. I tried again on another number and won two more. I saw myself (in fancy) the happy possessor of a thousand pounds. My next adventure cost me two louis, whereupon I began to wonder whether I was such a fortunate player after all.
“Come with me,” Barfleur said, coming around to where I stood adventuring my small sums with indescribable excitement and taking my arm genially. “I want to send some money to my mother for luck. I’ve just won fifteen pounds.”
“Talk about superstition,” I replied, coming away from the table, “I didn’t believe it of you.”
“I’m discovered!” he smiled philosophically; “besides I want to send some sweets to the children.”
We strolled out into the bright afternoon sun finding the terrace comparatively empty, for the Casino draws most of the crowd during the middle and late afternoon. It was strange to leave these shaded, artificially lighted rooms with their swarms of well-dressed men and women sitting about or bending over tables all riveted on the one thrilling thing—the drop of the little white ball in a certain pocket—and come out into the glittering white world with its blazing sun, its visible blue sea, its cream-colored buildings and its waving palms. We went to several shops—one for sweets and one for flowers, haut parisiennes in their atmosphere—and duly dispatched our purchases. Then we went to the post-office, plastered with instructions in various languages, and saw that the money was sent to Barfleur’s mother. Then we returned to the Casino and Barfleur went his way, while I wandered from board to board studying the crowd, risking an occasional louis, and finally managing to lose three pounds more than I had won. In despair I went to see what Scorp was doing. He had three or four stacks of gold coin in front of him at a certain table, all of five hundred dollars. He was risking these in small stacks of ten and fifteen louis and made no sign when he won or lost. On several occasions I thought he was certain to win a great sum, so lavishly were gold louis thrown him by the croupier, but on others I felt equally sure he was to be disposed of, so freely were his gold pieces scraped away from him.
“How are you making out?” I asked.
“I think I’ve lost eight hundred francs. If I should win this though, I’ll risk a bee-a.”
“What’s a bee-a?”
“A thousand franc note.”