“The Burgundy, like one of your Lordship's _bons mots_, is perhaps appreciated the more highly because of its rarity.” “Very true, Heffernan,” replied Lord Drogheda; “we should keep our wit and wine only for our best friends.” “Faith, then,” whispered the red-whiskered squire who spoke before, “if the liquor does not gain more by keeping than the wit, I'd recommend Con to drink it off a little faster.” “Or, better still,” interposed the Knight, “only give it to those who understand its flavor. But we are, if I mistake not, losing very valuable time. What say you to the small room off the library, or will your Lordship remain here?” “Here, if equally agreeable to you. We are both of us too old in the harness to care much for being surrounded by spectators.” “Is it true, Con,” said a friend in Heffernan's ear, “that Darcy has laid fifty thousand on this party?” “I believe you are rather under than over the mark,” whispered Heffernan. “The wager has been off and on these last eight or ten years. It was made at Hutchinson's one evening when we all had drunk a good deal of wine. At first, whist was talked of; but Drogheda objected to Darcy's naming Vicars as his partner.” “More fool he! Vicars is a first-rate player, but confoundedly unlucky.” “Be that as it may, they fixed on piquet as the game, and, if accounts be true, all the better for Darcy. They say he has beaten the best players in France.” “And what is really the stake? One hears so many absurd versions of it.” “The Ballydermot property.” “The whole of it?” “Every acre, with the demesne, house, plate, pictures, carriages, wine,--begad! I 'm not sure if the livery servants are not included,--against fifty thousand pounds. You know Drogheda has lent him a very large sum on a mortgage of that property already, and this will make the thing about double or quits.” “Well, Heffernan,” cried the Knight, “are you making your book there? When you've quite finished, let me have a pinch of that excellent snuff of yours.” “Why not try mine?” said Lord Drogheda, pushing a magnificently jewelled box, containing a miniature, across the table. “'T would be a bad augury, my Lord,” said Darcy, laughing. “If I remember aright, you won this handsome box from the Duke de Richelieu.” “Ah! you know that story, then?” “I was present at the time, and remember the circumstance perfectly. The King was leaning over the Duke's chair, watching the game--” “Quite true. The Duke affected not to know that his Majesty was there, and when he placed the box on the table, cried, 'A thousand louis against the portrait of the King!' There was no declining such a wager at such a moment, although, intrinsically, the box was not worth half the sum. I accepted, and won it.” “And the Duke then offered to give you twice the money for it back again?”