Regnard sat to himself for the portrait of Valere. The wild and fascinating excitement of play, the gambler's exultation when he is successful, his furious curses on his bad luck when he loses, his superstitious veneration for his winnings, are drawn from the life. When Fortune smiles, Valere neglects Angelique, his rich _fiancee_; when he is penniless, his love revives, and he is at her feet until his valet devises some new plan of raising money. He swears, if she will forgive him, never again to touch dice or cards, and five minutes afterward pledges for a thousand crowns a miniature set in diamonds she has just given him to bind their reconciliation, and hurries back to the gaming-table. He wins, but thinks his gains too sacred to pay away, even to redeem the portrait of Angelique. "Rien ne porte malheur comme de payer ses dettes," is his answer to the prudent Hector,--a maxim current among many who never play. At last comes a reverse of fortune so sweeping that he cannot conceal it. Angelique might have forgiven him his broken promises, but the pawnbroker enters with her picture and demands the thousand crowns. This is too much. She rejects him and gives her hand to his rival. His indignant father casts him off forever. But no feeling of regret or of repentance arises in the mind of the gambler. He turns coolly upon his heel, and calls to his valet,-- "Va! va! consolons-nous, Hector,--et quelque jour Le Jeu m'acquittera des pertes de l'amour." Richard is the name of this prince of rascally and quick-witted valets; but he calls himself Hector, after the knave of spades, because he serves a gambler. He has good sense as well as ingenuity; for he gives his master the best advice, while he strains his invention and his impudence to help him on to destruction. Nerine, maid to Angelique, declares open war against Valere, and vows that her mistress shall not throw herself away upon a silly dandy, an insipid puppet, with nothing to recommend him but his fine clothes and his swagger. "True enough," laughs Hector, "but "C'est le gout d'a present; tes cris sont superflus, Mon enfant." "And Valere is a spendthrift, an inveterate gambler, who will bring her to misery and want." "What of that? "Tant que tu voudras, parle, preche, tempete, Ta maitresse est coiffee,... Elle est dans nos filets." "And such an outrageous _roue_ that he cannot live in his father's house." "We do not deny it," Hector answers. "It is no fault of ours. "Valere a deserte la maison paternelle, Mais ce n'est point a lui qu'il faut faire querelle; Et si Monsieur son pere avait voulu sortir, Nous y serions encore;... Ces peres, bien souvent, sont obstines en diable."