The present, at this moment, was play.  What did they play?  He knew roulette, but he knew not if the game was roulette.  He would do as others did.  If he were ridiculed, it was of little importance; and in reality he should desire to be ridiculed.  People remember with pleasure those at whom they have laughed, and he had come here to find some one who would remember him.

When he entered the salon where the playing was going on, he observed that a religious silence reigned there.  Round a large table covered with a carpet of green cloth, which was divided by lines and figures, some men were seated on high chairs, making them appear like officers; others, on lower chairs, or simply standing about the table, pushed or picked up the louis and bank bills on the green cloth, and a strong voice repeated, in a monotonous tone: 

“Messieurs, faites votre jeu!  Le jeu est fait!  Rien ne va plus!”

Then a little ivory ball was thrown into a cylinder, where it rolled with a metallic noise.  Although he had never seen roulette, it required no effort to divine that this was the game.

And, before putting several louis on the table, he looked about him to see how it was played.  But after the tenth time he understood as little as at first.  With the rakes the croupiers collected the stakes of certain players; with these same rakes they doubled, separated, or even paid, in proportions of which he took no account, certain others, and that was all.

But it mattered little.  Having seen how the money was placed on the table, that was sufficient.

He had five louis in his hand when the croupier said: 

“Messieurs, faites votre jeu.”

He placed them on the number thirty-two, or, at least, he believed that he placed them on this number.

“Rien ne va plus!” The ball rolled in the cylinder.

“Thirty-one!” cried the croupier, adding some other words that Saniel did not understand.  So little did he understand roulette that he thought he had lost.  He had placed his stake on the thirty-two, and it was the thirty-one that had appeared; the bank had won.  He was surprised to see the croupier push a heap of gold toward him, which amounted to nearly a hundred louis, and accompany this movement with a glance which, without any doubt, meant to say: 

“For you, sir.”

What should he do?  Since he had lost, he could not take this, money that was given to him by mistake.

In placing his stake on the table, he had leaned over the shoulder of a gentleman whose hair and beard were of a most extraordinary black, who, without playing, pricked a card with a pin.  This gentleman turned toward him, and with an amiable smile, and in a most gracious tone said: 

“It is yours, sir.”

Decidedly, he was mistaken in thinking he had lost; and he must take this heap of louis, which he did, but neglecting to take, also, his first stake.