"Hush, monsieur, and attend to your game, as you're so fond of gambling. Is it piquet they're playing there?" "No, Bichette, écarté." "What? écarté? And how long have you known écarté, monsieur?" "I don't know it, but I was just going to tell you, I'm betting on it." "Ah! you're betting, are you? Well, I trust that you are modest at least, and don't play for big stakes?" "Oh, no! never fear, Bichette!" "You have lost your forty sous, Monsieur Monin!" exclaimed Destival at that moment, heaving a deep sigh. "Forty sous!" shouted Madame Monin, jumping from her chair with a violence that made all the furniture in the room tremble; "what's that? Monsieur Monin betting forty sous! Why, that is horrible! For heaven's sake, neighbor, what did you give him to drink at dinner?--What is the meaning of such extravagance, Monsieur Monin? Have you gone crazy?" "No, Bichette, it's a mistake; I assure you that I didn't bet but two sous." "You put forty sous on the table, monsieur," said La Thomassinière, "and they're lost." "I had won a lot, you see," whispered Monin to his wife; "that was just my winnings." "You must admit that I am playing in hard luck," said Destival; "that makes seven times that I have been responsible for Monin's losing." "Seven times, monsieur! have you bet seven times in succession?" cried Madame Monin, glaring at her husband with the expression of a cat about to pounce upon a mouse. "Why, no, Bichette; you know perfectly well that I am incapable of such a thing!" "Here's the duet from _Armide_," said Madame Destival; "come, Monsieur Dalville, sing it with madame." "I don't know it," said Auguste. "Nonsense! you are enough of a musician to sing it at sight." "I'll prompt you in your passages, monsieur," said Madame Monin, removing her hat lest it should interfere with her voice. Madame Monin began. Her voice was almost enough to set one's teeth on edge. Monin applauded every measure. Suddenly a chord broke. The vivacious Athalie ran her fingers over the keys and seemed excited by the fire with which she was playing. Soon a second chord broke, then a third, and it was impossible to go on. Athalie left her seat, saying: "What a pity! it was going so well!" "That's the disadvantage of your pianos," said Madame Monin testily, as she put on her shepherdess's hat; "Monsieur Monin's little flute's the thing; there's no danger of that ever breaking, at all events." "Do you want me to go and get it, Bichette?" "Upon my word, this is a pretty time of night to make such a suggestion! We must go home to bed, monsieur; that will be much better than your little flute." Destival left the card-table, red as a turkey-cock. "I can't stand it any longer!" he cried. "That makes twelve times that he has passed! I've lost at least forty francs!" "Oh! how can anyone risk so much money?" said Madame Monin. "If you should ever lose forty francs, Monsieur Monin, I'd have a separation at once."