“Oh, pardon me. You Americans are so impetuous. Cultivate calmness, my friend—English phlegm, if you will. It is a most valuable asset in any game.” “That’s as may be, Marquis, but I play no more games with you.” “Pardon me again,” he returned coolly; “we play yet one more hand, Monsieur, and I have the deal.” “What are you driving at?” “I told you there was a way by which you could discharge your obligations.” “Declare it then, and let us close this transaction!” “You are doubtless unaware, and I speak to you in confidence, that my large estates are greatly encumbered. I have a passion for play. I do not always enjoy the fortune I have had with you, and—” He laughed as he spoke. “In short, I find myself in very straitened circumstances.” “I suppose you want your money and want it quick?” I burst out. “I can understand and I promise you——” “There you go again, Monsieur. I want money, it is true. I was born wanting money, I have lived wanting money, and, I suppose, I shall die wanting money.” You won’t have any use for it after that, I thought, but all I said was: “Proceed, Monsieur.” “You are doubtless unaware, also, that Mademoiselle Gabrielle de Rivau, Comtesse de Villars in her own right, granddaughter of the Duc de Rivau-Huet, is my cousin?” “I have never heard of the young lady, but I recognize the honor of the relationship,” I said coldly. The Marquis was not devoid of wit. His eye flashed, but he proceeded deliberately: “Quite so. Her grandfather is my grandfather also. She is one of the richest women in France. Our respective parents arranged a marriage between us when we were children. The carrying out of that contract depends entirely on three people, the young lady, the Duc de Rivau-Huet and myself. It was stipulated that no constraint was to be used, and that, when she reached her twentieth year, she was to give her consent without pressure, freely and willingly. If she did so, and her grandfather interposed no objection, and I desired it, we were to be married. If not”—he shrugged his shoulders—“I lose.” “Lose what?” “The lady and, incidentally, her fortune.” I confessed to a very languid interest in the love affairs of the Marquis and the lady, but for politeness’ sake I asked him another question. “Permit me, since you have broached the subject, does the lady consent or refuse?” “She consents, but the Duke refuses.” “Ah!” “But I hope that his refusal is not irrevocable.” “For your sake I trust so,” I replied. “Yet I fail to see how this concerns me.” “You shall learn directly. Mademoiselle de Villars is one of the Queen’s maids of honor. She usually resides at the Court at Versailles. For this week, however, she is on leave of absence, I have learned, and is in residence at the Hôtel de Rivau-Huet in Paris.” “Yes?” I said interrogatively. I was beginning to have some curiosity as to whither all this tended. “As I said, the Duke seems insensible to the advantage of an alliance with me.”