The heaps of gold on his right hand increased; the Polish mamma entered into partnership with him already, and the flaxen-haired daughter was much inclined to follow her example, but her neighbour and protector, the son of the Kommerzienrath, in the _Kneiphöf Lang-gasse_, beneath whose pennon her _louis d'ors_ ventured out to sea, would never have given his consent; he looked askant at the augmenting treasures of the Pole. Baluzzi also became uneasy, because Mierowski steadily increased his stakes. At last that state of feverish excitement set in which always precedes any great crisis. The battle only raged between the banker and Mierowski; all others as it were merely paid the entrance money with their small stakes, in order to be present at this performance. The victory suddenly seemed to incline to Baluzzi's side; twice following he swept in heavy amounts. But the Pole doubled and trebled the stake in order to break the bank, "_Le jeu est fait_," rang forth; with beating hearts the little circle awaited the result which the weird, rolling ball should bring. Beate had become pale as death, she knew that this ball would once more pierce another's heart. "_Va banque_," rang the Pole's cry of victory; all sprang up in tumultuous excitement, so that the heaps of gold were scattered in all directions, and some _louis d'ors_ rolled upon the ground. With apparent composure Baluzzi said-- "For to-day I acknowledge myself conquered, but the fortune of war changes." At the same time he cast a venomous glance at the victorious Pole. Beate took advantage of the tumult to retire unnoticed, and to await the Italian in a side room, so that her lengthy stay might not arouse observation. Mierowski's glances sought her in vain, as he rushed away with his treasures; he was possessed with a violent passion for little Beate, and was in a very liberal humour; he longed for another champagne orgie, and the Hebe for it had been found, and was lost. Outside, he enquired of the half-witted porteress, for the little black lady from Italy. Kätchen stared at him with astonished eyes, and several times repeated the word, "Gone!" with pantomimic gesture. In so doing she was obeying no injunction of Beate, but only her own instinct. The whole party broke up noisily; the Polish women lighted their cigarettes, the pink Berlin lady disappeared in a grey sack-like winter cloak, which suited her flaxen hair better. The gentlemen eagerly discussed the last decisive battle, and were so excited and absorbed that Kätchen picked up several _louis d'ors_ at the garden gate, as perquisites. In the house itself all had suddenly become silent; a tired lacquey snored upon the bench in the hall; no one remembered to extinguish the lamps and candles; a current of air blew in through the open doors; several lights flickered and went out; others burned down and filled the air with their odour.