The bustling and shuffling eagerness of the figures in the background is exceedingly well rendered. 'As a whole, the _Tapis Vert_ is a very fine illustration of real life, as met with in most of the leading German watering-places.'(75) (75) 'Illustrated Times.' 'At the present moment,' says another authority, writing more than a year ago, 'there are three very bold female gamblers at Baden. One is the Russian Princess ----, who plays several hours every day at _Rouge et Noir_, and sometimes makes what in our money would be many hundreds, and at others goes empty away. She wins calmly enough, but when luck is against her looks anxious. The second is the wife of an Italian ex-minister, who is well known both as an authoress and politician. She patronizes _Roulette_, and at every turn of the wheel her money passes on the board. She is a good gambler--smirking when she wins, and smirking when she loses. She dresses as splendidly as any of the dames of Paris. The other night she excited a flutter among the ladies assembled in the salons of the "Conversation" by appearing in a robe flaming red with an exaggerated train which dragged its slow length along the floor. But the greatest of the feminine players is the Leonie Leblanc. When she is at the _Rouge et Noir_ table a larger crowd than usual is collected to witness her operation. The stake she generally risks is 6000 francs (L240), which is the maximum allowed. Her chance is changing: a few days back she won L4000 in one sitting; some days later she lost about L2000, and was then reduced to the, for her, indignity of playing for paltry sums--L20 or thereabouts.' Among the more recent chronicles, the _Figaro_ gives the following account of the close of the campaign of a gaming hero, M. Edgar de la Charme, who, for a number of days together, never left the gaming-room without carrying off the sum of 24,000 francs. 'The day before yesterday, M. de la Charme, reflecting that there must be an end even to the greatest run of luck, locked his portmanteau, paid his bill, and took the road to the railway station, accompanied by some of his friends. On reaching the wicket he found it closed; there were still three-quarters of an hour to pass before the departure of the train. "I will go and play my parting game," he exclaimed, and, turning to the coachman, bade him drive to the Kursaal. His friends surrounded him, and held him back; he should not go, he would lose all his winnings. But he was resolute, and soon reached the Casino, where his travelling dress caused a stir of satisfaction among the croupiers. He sat down at the _Trente-et-quarante_, broke the bank in 20 minutes, got into his cab again, and seeing the inspector of the tables walking to and fro under the arcades, he said to him, in a tone of exquisite politeness, "I could not think of going away without leaving you my P.P.C."' SPA.