The Duchess de Berry could receive them, they were told, on asking; and the gentleman usher opened the inner door, and gave access to a large and handsome room, wherein about two dozen ladies and gentlemen were seated at a table, playing cards. A much larger number stood round the room, close to the walls, watching the players. Lady Ingram made her way to a very young girl who sat at one end of the lansquenet-table, and who, Celia thought, was scarcely seventeen. This surely could be the wife of nobody, she mentally decided. The girl certainly looked very young. Celia, on consideration, doubted if she were seventeen. A soft, bright, innocent face she had, laughing eyes, and a blooming complexion. She looked up with a smile as Lady Ingram approached her, and said a few words in a low tone. Lady Ingram took off her gloves, and sat down quietly at the lansquenet-table, having apparently forgotten her companions. "Are we to remain here?" asked Celia of Philip, in a tone inaudible to any one but himself. "Wait a minute, till I see the result of her first venture," answered Philip, biting his lip. Celia looked back at the card-table. She was accustomed to see Squire Passmore play cards, but never for money, except when he received or went into company; and even then, a few half-crowns were all that changed hands. She gazed with surprise on the piles and rouleaux of gold which lay upon this table, and the quantity of loose pieces scattered about. Hands were constantly extended with a dozen or two of louis in them, and one lady in particular Celia noticed, who piled up her gold until the tower would go no higher, and each time staked the heap on a single card. "Who is that girl next my Lady Ingram, at the end of the table?" Celia next inquired of her brother. "That is the Duchess de Berry," said he. "That the Duchess! Why, Philip! she is scarce more than a child!" "She is the mother of two children herself," replied Philip. "Perhaps you guess her younger than she is--eighteen." "She looks so young and innocent," said Celia. "Young, yes--but innocent! My dear, this girl of eighteen is already one of the worst women in France. Deuce-ace--ah! She will go on. We may go." Philip slipped round the table to his mother's side, and whispered a few words to her, to which she responded without turning her head. Coming back to Celia, he gave her his hand and led her out of the room. "Is my Lady not coming?" she asked, glancing back. "Not when she has thrown deuce-ace," said Philip, dryly. "She considers that her lucky number, and always goes on playing when it comes at the first throw. Now come with me for half-an-hour. You will see a little of Court-life, and you shall go home when you are tired. We will visit the great drawing-room."