"And you see," said Jean Ficelle, "there is people who say that you never win at cards. But that's all nonsense! and the proof is that I might have made my fortune if I hadn't been a coward." "But to say that she wasn't pretty, that there wasn't something alluring about her--I should lie, if I denied it. But all women have that. Parbleu! you only have to be in love to find it out." "Look you, I'll give you a comparison: You haven't got any money, and you stake what you have--then you win! But if you have anything, you're afraid of losing it; so you won't risk it, and you miss the chance of making a fortune." "And that fellow who's always looking at me, and acts as if he wanted to speak to me. Oh! just let him come--I'll give him a warm reception! It ain't that I've seen him with Bastringuette. No, I'll have to admit that; since that day on Rue Barbette, when we met Paul dressed like a swell, and Bastringuette a little farther on--I've never seen him with her, and they do well to keep out of sight! For if they should act as if they meant to laugh at me--why, by heaven! it would go hard with 'em!" "And then, you see, there's some who are mighty smart--they always win. I know one fellow--and he's a great swell--who makes six francs a day with _biribi;_ that's a trade that would suit me down to the ground!" Suddenly Jean Ficelle put his hand on his comrade's arm and stopped him, saying: "Look, they're already at it, the rascals! They go to work early, they're no sluggards!" The messengers had reached the river bank, near a game of _table-basse_, run by a tall fellow whose tongue was never at rest; he bewildered his audience by his incessant chatter. A number of men of somewhat forbidding aspect were gathered about the game. But as two countrymen approached, the spectators made room for them; and the sharper offered them a dicebox with some little balls, crying: "Come, messieurs, try your luck! every throw wins something, and it's only twenty sous a throw; and for twenty sous, if you choose, you can win a magnificent silver repeating watch, or a cover of the same metal, which you can have the pleasure of presenting to your good wife; or a thimble,--also of the same metal,--with which you can do homage to your venerable mother, if you are fortunate enough to possess her still." The peasants could not resist the temptation; one of them took the dicebox and threw the balls, and Jean-Pierre counted. (_Jean-Pierre_ is the sobriquet by which these charlatans call one another.) He counted with amazing facility and dexterity; his addition always seemed perfectly fair, but no one ever won prizes worth more than two or three sous. "Come, messieurs, keep on, try your luck again," cried Jean-Pierre; "that throw turned out well for Jean-Pierre, but the luck will change; you'll win the big prizes, messieurs! and Jean-Pierre will be in the hole. But he will always be only too happy to fulfil his engagements with the honorable company."