"Each person puts in a chip when everyone passes, and you keep putting in one as long as they pass." "The devil! that may mount up pretty high, messieurs! why, you are playing an infernal game!" "Does it frighten you, Monsieur Tobie?" "I don't say that. What's the stake?" "Five francs." The stout youth felt in his pocket, where he found only enough for one stake and half of another. However, he assumed a self-assured air as he took the seat vacated by Célestin, while the artist replaced the jovial Mouillot. "Célestin has made his little pile!" laughed Albert. "I? oh, no! I have made myself good, that's all!--Come, Balivan, to return to your pretty neighbor,--do you want to bet my portrait that I don't succeed in seducing her?" "Yes. But let us understand each other: if I lose, I'll paint your portrait for nothing." "Just so." "But if I win?" "Then I'll pay you for the portrait." "Indeed! what a generous youth! Where do I gain anything in that, I wonder?" "Messieurs," said Mouillot, "I'll bet something much more agreeable for the company. I'll bet that I get the little neighbor to come down here." "Ah! that's something like." "You said that she lived overhead, Balivan?" "Yes." "Very good! just give me a hammer; I'll demolish the ceiling, and then the fascinating grisette will fall through." "Ha! ha! a famous method!" Young Tobie, who had already lost his stake, and had taken money from the pool to make up the second one, was no longer in the mood for laughing. "I say, messieurs," he cried, "just because you're not playing now, you prevent other people from playing. Leave us in peace, will you? I have lost a pile of money already. I keep making mistakes; I have _misty_, and don't see it." "Bah! a pile of money! he's lost his stake once." "Besides, my dear fellow, a man can't expect luck in everything. You have just come from a tête-à-tête in which a pretty woman has crowned you with myrtle! you can afford to lose your money." Tobie bit his lips in vexation and made no reply. "And then, too, he pinched Crevette's leg!" laughed Mouillot. "And he has a swollen nose," added Célestin. "The fellow is lucky on all sides.--Some punch, messieurs?" "With pleasure. I bet twenty francs." "I take it," said Tobie. "And I. Show down." The hands were placed on the table. Monsieur Varinet, who had followed Tobie, had _misty_; but the stout youth, who had three aces, pounced on the money, thinking that he had won. His white-eyebrowed antagonist checked him with the utmost coolness, saying: "What are you doing? don't you see that I have _misty_?" "And don't you see that I have three aces?" "Your three aces amount to nothing, as we're not playing the _brelan_." "Oh! mon Dieu! I had quite forgotten that; I never thought of it! It's a mistake, messieurs; the hand ought to be thrown out."