I am
intensely amused."
"Good! My philosopher is captivated."
"Not captivated, but interested, I confess." Then, in the tone of
good-humor which was habitual to him, he added: "As for being the
sage you call me, that's all nonsense. And to prove it, I'm going
to risk my louis with the rest."
M. de Coralth seemed amazed, but a close observer might have
detected a gleam of triumph in his eyes. "You are going to play--
you?"
"Yes. Why not?"
"Take care!"
"Of what, pray? The worst I can do is to lose what I have in my
pocket--something over two hundred francs."
The viscount shook his head thoughtfully. "It isn't that which
one has cause to fear. The devil always has a hand in this
business, and the first time a man plays he's sure to win."
"And is that a misfortune?"
"Yes, because the recollection of these first winnings is sure to
lure you back to the gaming-table again. You go back, you lose,
you try to recover your money, and that's the end of it--you
become a gambler."
Pascal Ferailleur's smile was the smile of a man who has full
confidence in himself. "My brain is not so easily turned, I
hope," said he. "I have the thought of my name, and the fortune I
must make, as ballast for it."
"I beseech you not to play," insisted the viscount. "Listen to
me; you don't know what this passion for play is; the strongest
and the coldest natures succumb--don't play."
He had raised his voice, as if he intended to be overheard by two
guests who had just approached the sofa.
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