The cards were brought, and the Chevalier began to fight his battle over again; but could not satisfy Mr. St. George. “You see, there was the bet with the Governor, and the pips, as I said before, with the Archbishop of Warsaw.” “My dear De Boeffleurs, let’s no more of this. If you like to have a game of ecarté with St. George, well and good; but as for quarrelling the whole evening about some blundering lie of Salvinski’s, it really is too much. You two can play, and I can talk to Don Vivian, who, by-the-bye, is rather of the rueful countenance to-night. Why, my dear fellow, I have not heard your voice this evening: frightened by the fate of the Archbishop of Warsaw, I suppose?” “Ecarté is so devilish dull,” said St. George; “and it is such a trouble to deal.” “I will deal for both, if you like,” said De Boeffleurs; “I am used to dealing.” “Oh! no, I won’t play ecarté; let us have something in which we can all join.” “Rouge-et-noir,” suggested the Chevalier, in a careless tone, as if he had no taste for the amusement. “There is not enough, is there?” asked St. George. “Oh! two are enough, you know; one deals, much more four.” “Well, I don’t care; rouge-et-noir then, let us have rouge-et-noir. Von Konigstein, what say you to rouge-et-noir? De Boeffleurs says we can play it here very well. Come, Grey.” “Oh! rouge-et-noir, rouge-et-noir,” said the Baron; “have not you both had rouge-et-noir enough? Am I not to be allowed one holiday? Well, anything to please you; so rouge-et-noir, if it must be so.” “If all wish it, I have no objection,” said Vivian. “Well, then, let us sit down; Ernstorff has, I dare say, another pack of cards, and St. George will be dealer; I know he likes that ceremony.” “No, no; I appoint the Chevalier.” “Very well,” said De Boeffleurs, “the plan will be for two to bank against the table; the table to play on the same colour by joint agreement. You can join me, Von Konigstein, and pay or receive with me, from Mr. St. George and Grey.” “I will bank with you, if you like, Chevalier,” said Vivian. “Oh! certainly; that is if you like. But perhaps the Baron is more used to banking; you perhaps don’t understand it.” “Perfectly; it appears to me to be very simple.” “No, don’t you bank, Grey,” said St. George. “I want you to play with me against the Chevalier and the Baron; I like your luck.” “Luck is very capricious, remember.” “Oh, no, I like your luck; don’t bank.” “Be it so.”