“At least be kind enough to take me to the fountain.”

“I think not.  If you take me for a freshman, you make a mistake, and I don’t care to give the impression that I am pleased when I am displeased.  You can get whomsoever you please to take you to the fountain, but as for me I must beg to be excused.  Farewell, madam.”

With these words I went out, paying no attention to her efforts to recall me.

I found the inn-keeper, and told him that I must leave at three o’clock without a fail.  The lady, who was at her window, could hear me.  I went straight to the fountain where the chevalier asked me what had become of his wife, and I answered that I had left her in her room in perfect health.  In half an hour we saw her coming with a stranger, who was welcomed by a certain M. de St. Maurice.  Madame Zeroli left him, and tacked herself on to me, as if there had been nothing the matter.  I could not repulse her without the most troublesome consequences, but I was very cold.  After complaining of my conduct she said that she had only been trying me, that if I really loved her I should put off my departure, and that I should breakfast with her at eight o’clock the next day.  I answered coolly that I would think it over.  I was serious all dinner-time, and said once or twice that I must go at three o’clock, but as I wanted to find some pretext for staying on account of the nun, I let myself be persuaded into making a bank at faro.

I staked all the gold I had, and I saw every face light up as I put down about four hundred louis in gold, and about six hundred francs in silver.  “Gentlemen,” said I, “I shall rise at eight o’clock precisely.”  The stranger said, with a smile, that possibly the bank might not live so long, but I pretended not to understand him.  It was just three o’clock.  I begged Desarmoises to be my croupier, and I began to deal with due deliberation to eighteen or twenty punters, all professional gamblers.  I took a new pack at every deal.

By five o’clock I had lost money.  We heard carriage wheels, and they said it was three Englishmen from Geneva, who were changing horses to go on to Chamberi.  A moment after they came in, and I bowed.  It was Mr. Fox and his two friends, who had played quinze with me.  My croupier gave them cards, which they received gladly, and went ten louis, playing on two and three cards, going paroli, seven and the ‘va’, as well as the ‘quinze’, so that my bank was in danger of breaking.  However, I kept up my face, and even encouraged them to play, for, God being neutral, the chances were in my favour.  So it happened, and at the third deal I had cleared the Englishmen out, and their carriage was ready.

While I was shuffling a fresh pack of cards, the youngest of them drew out of his pocket-book a paper which he spewed to his two companions.  It was a bill of exchange.  “Will you stake the value of this bill on a card, without knowing its value?” said he.