After the supper, which was noisy as could be, there was gambling. I sat by the side of Olympe and put down my money so recklessly that she could not but notice me. In an instant I had gained one hundred and fifty or two hundred louis, which I spread out before me on the table, and on which she fastened her eyes greedily. I was the only one not completely absorbed by the game, and able to pay her some attention. All the rest of the night I gained, and it was I who gave her money to play, for she had lost all she had before her and probably all she had in the house. At five in the morning, the guests departed. I had gained three hundred louis. All the players were already on their way downstairs; I was the only one who had remained behind, and as I did not know any of them, no one noticed it. Olympe herself was lighting the way, and I was going to follow the others, when, turning back, I said to her: “I must speak to you.” “To-morrow,” she said. “No, now.” “What have you to say?” “You will see.” And I went back into the room. “You have lost,” I said. “Yes. “All that you had in the house?” She hesitated. “Be frank.” “Well, it is true.” “I have won three hundred louis. Here they are, if you will let me stay here to-night.” And I threw the gold on the table. “And why this proposition?” “Because I am in love with you, of course.” “No, but because you love Marguerite, and you want to have your revenge upon her by becoming my lover. You don’t deceive a woman like me, my dear friend; unluckily, I am still too young and too good-looking to accept the part that you offer me.” “So you refuse?” “Yes. “Would you rather take me for nothing? It is I who wouldn’t accept then. Think it over, my dear Olympe; if I had sent someone to offer you these three hundred louis on my behalf, on the conditions I attach to them, you would have accepted. I preferred to speak to you myself. Accept without inquiring into my reasons; say to yourself that you are beautiful, and that there is nothing surprising in my being in love with you.” Marguerite was a woman in the same position as Olympe, and yet I should never have dared say to her the first time I met her what I had said to the other woman. I loved Marguerite. I saw in her instincts which were lacking in the other, and at the very moment in which I made my bargain, I felt a disgust toward the woman with whom I was making it. She accepted, of course, in the end, and at midday I left her house as her lover; but I quitted her without a recollection of the caresses and of the words of love which she had felt bound to shower upon me in return for the six thousand francs which I left with her. And yet there were men who had ruined themselves for that woman.