"Jools," said the parson, stopping in his walk--"Jools, I _don't_ want to lose my niggah." "You will not loose him. With Baptiste he _cannot_ ged loose." But Colossus's master was not reassured. "Now," said he, still tarrying, "this is jest the way; had I of gone to church--" "Posson Jone'--" said Jules. "What?" "I tell you. We goin' to church!" "Will you?" asked Jones, joyously. "_Allons_, come along," said Jules, taking his elbow. They walked down the Rue Chartres, passed several corners, and by-and-by turned into a cross-street. The parson stopped an instant as they were turning, and looked back up the street. "W'at you lookin'?" asked his companion. "I thought I saw Colossus," answered the parson, with an anxious face; "I reckon 'twa'nt him, though." And they went on. The street they now entered was a very quiet one. The eye of any chance passer would have been at once drawn to a broad, heavy, white brick edifice on the lower side of the way, with a flag-pole standing out like a bowsprit from one of its great windows, and a pair of lamps hanging before a large closed entrance. It was a theatre, honeycombed with gambling-dens. At this morning hour all was still, and the only sign of life was a knot of little barefoot girls gathered within its narrow shade, and each carrying an infant relative. Into this place the parson and M. St.-Ange entered, the little nurses jumping up from the sills to let them pass in. A half-hour may have passed. At the end of that time the whole juvenile company were laying alternate eyes and ears to the chinks, to gather what they could of an interesting quarrel going on within. "I did not, saw! I given you no cause of offense, saw! It's not so, saw! Mister Jools simply mistaken the house,--thinkin' it was a Sabbath-school! No such thing, saw; I _ain't_ bound to bet! Yes, I kin git out! Yes, without bettin'! I hev a right to my _o_pinion; I reckon I'm _a white man_, saw! No, saw! I on'y said I didn't think you could get the game on them cards. 'Sno such thing, saw! I do _not_ know how to play! I wouldn't hev a rascal's money ef I should win it! Shoot ef you dare! You can kill me, but you cayn't scare me! No, I shayn't bet! I'll die first! Yes, saw; Mr. Jools can bet for me if he admires to; I ain't his mostah." Here the speaker seemed to direct his words to St.-Ange. "Saw, I don't understand you, saw. I never said I'd loan you money to bet for me. I didn't suspicion this from you, saw. No, I won't take any more lemonade; it's the most notorious stuff I ever drank, saw!" M. St.-Ange's replies were in _falsetto_ and not without effect; for presently the parson's indignation and anger began to melt. "Don't ask me, Jools, I can't help you. It's no use; it's a matter of conscience with me, Jools." "_Mais oui!_ 'tis a matt' of conscien' wid me, the same." "But, Jools, the money's none o' mine, nohow; it belongs to Smyrny, you know."