The gambler concluded his discourse by slapping the pocket which contained his money; and the workingman, bewildered by that torrent of words poured forth without pausing to take breath, made up his mind to try his luck; he followed with his eyes the three cards which Jean-Pierre moved about on the table, from right to left and left to right, with a rapidity which made the eyes ache; then, believing that he was sure of his card, he placed upon it all the money he had received for his week's wages, which was all that his family had to live upon. "Will you take all that at once?" he cried excitedly. "Why not, monsieur? Jean-Pierre never weakens; he takes whatever you choose--your clothes or your handkerchiefs, if you haven't any money! Jean-Pierre will do anything to please you." "Let her go, then; that one's _biribi_! Turn it over." The gambler turned the card--the workman had lost; he was crestfallen and speechless with dismay, and the peasant, who also had been stripped, laughed stupidly and said: "He ain't any smarter than I am, he ain't." Meanwhile, spurred on by Jean Ficelle, who claimed to be certain that he could tell him how to win, Sans-Cravate was about to give way to the temptation to try his hand at _biribi_, when a confederate ran up; he had sighted a police officer on the horizon. In an instant, the games were folded up and carried off by the Jean-Pierres, who ran as fast as their legs would carry them; while their dupes remained behind, feeling in their empty pockets, and trying to decide--one of them, whether he should return to his village without the proceeds of the sale of his produce; the other, whether he dared face his children, who would ask him for money with which to buy bread. Sans-Cravate and Jean Ficelle walked away. "We arrived too late," said the latter; "it's too bad! I have an idea that we would have broken the bank, and then what a spree we'd have had! we wouldn't have worked for a week!" "For my part, I am glad I didn't play," said Sans-Cravate; "the money goes too fast that way; and then, too, gambling's a miserable business!" "Oh! _ouiche!_ as if a man mustn't have some fun out of life! weren't we born to enjoy ourselves? Only sneaks, like Paul, talk that way. For my part, I claim that gambling's the spice of life; look you, I'll give you a comparison----" "Pshaw! there's a wine shop yonder; I like that better than your _biribi_." As the two friends were about to enter the wine shop, a man behind them hailed them: "So you're too proud to speak to a friend, eh?" They both turned, and Jean Ficelle uttered a joyful exclamation. "Why, it's Laboussole!" he said; "old Laboussole! Well, this is a surprise!"