The more she won, the more she made other people win, the more miserable Sylvia felt, and as she saw Count Paul’s heap of notes and gold diminishing, she grew unutterably wretched.  Eight hundred pounds?  What an enormous lot of money to risk in an evening!

Then there came a change.  For a few turns of the game luck deserted her, and Sylvia breathed more freely.  She glanced up into Count Paul’s impassive face.  He looked worn and tired, as well he might be after his long journey from Brittany.

Then once more magic fortune came back.  It seemed as if only good cards—­variations on the fateful eights and nines—­could be dealt her.

Suddenly she pushed her chair back and got up.  Protesting murmurs rose on every side.

“If Madame leaves, the luck will go with her!” she heard one or two people murmur discontentedly.

Chester was looking at her with amused, sarcastic, disapproving eyes.

“Well!” he exclaimed.  “I don’t wonder you enjoy gambling, Sylvia!  Are you often taken this way?  How much of that poor fellow’s money have you won?”

“Ninety pounds,” she answered mechanically.

“Ninety pounds!  And have you ever lost as much as that, may I ask, in an evening?” he was still speaking with a good deal of sarcasm in his voice.  But still, “money talks,” and even against his will Chester was impressed.  Ninety pounds represents a very heavy bill of costs in a country solicitor’s practice.

Sylvia looked dully into his face.

“No,” she said slowly.  “No, the most I ever lost in one evening was ten pounds.  I always left off playing when I had lost ten pounds.  That is the one advantage the player has over the banker—­he can stop playing when he has lost a small sum.”

“Oh!  I see!” exclaimed Chester drily.

And then they became silent, for close by where they now stood, a little apart from the table, an angry altercation was going on between Monsieur and Madame Wachner.  It was the first time Sylvia had ever heard the worthy couple quarrelling in public the one with the other.

“I tell you I will not go away!” L’Ami Fritz was saying between his teeth.  “I feel that to-night I am in luck, in great luck!  What I ask you to do, Sophie, is to go away yourself, and leave me alone.  I have made a thousand francs this evening, and at last I have an opportunity of trying my new system.  I am determined to try it now, to-night!  No—­it is no use your speaking to me, no use reminding me of any promise I made to you.  If I made such a promise, I mean to break it!”

Sylvia looked round, a good deal concerned.  Madame Wachner’s face was red, and she was plainly very angry and put out.  But when she saw that she and her husband had attracted the attention of their English friends, she made a great effort to regain her self-control and good humour.

“Very well,” she said, “Very well, Fritz!  Do not speak to me as if I were an ogress or a dragon.  I am your wife; it is my duty to obey you.  But I will not stay to see you lose the good money you have made with the help of our kind friend, Madame Sylvia.  Yes, I will go away and leave you, my poor Fritz.”