Alas! the whole thing was only an infamous conspiracy to ruin the young man. The Belgian capitalist, this count apparently so respectable, was only an expert card-sharper whom Chauvignac had brought from Paris to play out the vile tragi-comedy, the denouement of which would be the ruin of the unfortunate Olivier. At the moment when the latter left the card-table to go to Chauvignac, the pretended millionnaire changed the pack of cards they had been using for two other packs. Supper went off very pleasantly. They drank very moderately, for the head had to be kept cool for what had to follow. They soon sat down again at the card-table. 'Now,' said the Parisian card-shaper, on resuming his seat, 'I should like to end the matter quickly: I will stake the twenty thousand francs in a lump.' Olivier, confident of success after his previous achievement, readily assented; but, alas, the twenty thousand francs of which he made sure was won by his adversary. Forty thousand francs went in like manner. Olivier, breathless, utterly prostrate, knew not what to do. All his manoeuvres were practised in vain; he could give himself none but small cards. His opponent had his hands full of trumps, and HE dealt them to him! In his despair he consulted Chauvignac by a look, and the latter made a sign to him to go on. The wretched young man went on, and lost again. Bewildered, beside himself, he staked fabulous sums to try and make up for his losses, and very soon found, in his turn, that he owed his adversary one hundred thousand francs(L4166)! At this point the horrible denouement commenced. The pretended count stopped, and crossing his arms on his breast, said sternly--'Monsieur Olivier de ----, you must be very rich to stake so glibly such enormous sums. Of course you know your fortune and can square yourself with it; but, however rich you may be, you ought to know that it is not sufficient to lose a hundred thousand francs, but that you must pay it. Besides, I have given you the example. Begin, therefore, by putting down the sum I have won from you; after which we can go on.' . . . 'Nothing can be more proper, sir,' stammered out young Olivier, 'I am ready to satisfy you; but, after all, you know that . . . . gaming debts . . . . my word . . . .' 'The d--l! sir,' said the pretended count, giving the table a violent blow with his fist--'Why do you talk to me about your WORD. Gad! You are well entitled to appeal to the engagements of honour! Well! We have now to play another game on this table, and we must speak out plainly. Monsieur Olivier de ----, you are a rogue . . . Yes, a rogue! The cards we have been using are biseautees and YOU brought them hither.' 'Sir! . . You insult me!' said Olivier. 'Indeed? Well, sir, that astonishes me!' replied the false Belgian ironically. 'That is too much, sir. I demand satisfaction, and that on the very instant. Do you understand me? Let us go out at once.'