feat him but not discountenance
him.

"Certainly," he was saying presently. "The right of choice is yours,
Carigny. Ecarte, since you wish it, by all means."

Dupontel, to whom he had explained himself, knew what that handshake
had meant. In the move toward the card-table, he caught his eye. The
Prince smiled at him. "You see how useless it is to strive," he
seemed to say.

The pretence that the onlookers were present by chance was gone when
the Prince and his adversary sat down opposite to each other at the
little green table. The onlookers thronged about them, frankly
curious. The young man, Carigny's son, stood leaning over his
father's shoulder. Dupontel was at the back of his friend. He saw the
green table across the Prince's white head. The deal fell to the
Prince.

He had the pack in his hand when he spoke across to Carigny.

"Carigny," he said. The blind man lifted his face to listen. "The
last game was a short one."

The other nodded. "Make it as short as you like," he said. "Make it
one hand, if it pleases you, Monpavon. I shall be satisfied."

"One hand!"

"Certainly; if that is short enough for you," said Carigny. "But the
stakes you remember them?"

He asked the question as if he would warn his adversary, and as if he
himself were certain of the issue. He had the demeanor of a man who
undertakes a problem of which he knows the answer.

"Be careful," breathed Dupontel at the Prince's back.

"You lost, let me see!" replied the Prince, unheeding Dupontel's
whisper. "It was four hundred thousand francs, I think."

The bearded face opposite him smiled. "You have not forgotten, I
see!"

The Prince nodded. "One hand, then!"

He proceeded to deal. He was certain of losing, or he would not have
consented to such an outrage upon the game's refinements. And yet, he
had hopes; the spirit that presides over cards is capricious.

The young man had sorted the cards and placed them in his father's
hands, and was whispering in his ear. Then he stood upright. The
Prince waited.

"You propose?" he inquired.

"No," said the other; "I play."

There was a movement among the spectators as some shifted in an
endeavor to see the cards. Dupontel was edged from his post for a
moment. When he had shouldered his way back to it, the play had
already begun. It seemed to him almost indecent that such an affair
should rest on a single hand of cards; it was making free with
matters of importance. As he gained a sig