"Let us make a bet on it."

"We will; we will bet the supper."

"All right."

All the guests began to clap, and my fair neighbour blushed with
pleasure. I ordered Le Duc to tell my coachman that I should not be going
till the next day.

"It is my business," said the lady, "to order the supper."

"Yes, you are right; for he who pays, orders. My part will be to oppose
you to the knife, and if I eat as much as you I shall be the winner."

"Very good."

At the end of dinner, the individual who had addressed me before called
for cards, and made a small bank of faro. He put down twenty-five
Piedmontese pistoles, and some silver money to amuse the
ladies--altogether it amounted nearly to forty louis. I remained a
spectator during the first deal, and convinced myself that the banker
played very well.

Whilst he was getting ready for the second deal, the lady asked me why I
did not play. I whispered to her that she had made me lose my appetite
for money. She repaid this compliment with a charming smile.

After this declaration, feeling myself entitled to play, I put down forty
louis, and lost them in two deals. I got up, and on the banker saying
very politely that he was sorry for my loss, I replied that it was a mere
nothing, but that I always made it a rule never to risk a sum of money
larger than the bank. Somebody then asked me if I knew a certain Abbe
Gilbert.

"I knew a man of that name," said I, "at Paris; he came from Lyons, and
owes me a pair of ears, which I mean to cut off his head when I meet
him."

My questioner made no reply to this, and everybody remained silent, as if
nothing had been said. From this I concluded that the abbe aforesaid must
be the same whose place I had occupied at dinner. He had doubtless seen
me on my arrival and had taken himself off. This abbe was a rascal who
had visited me at Little Poland, to whom I had entrusted a ring which had
cost me five thousand florins in Holland; next day the scoundrel had
disappeared.

When everybody had left the table, I asked Le Duc if I were well lodged.

"No," said he; "would you like to see your room?"

He took me to a large room, a hundred paces from the inn, whose sole
furniture consisted of its four walls, all the other rooms being
occupied. I complained vainly to the inn-keeper, who said,

"It's all I can offer you, but I will have a good bed, a table, and
chairs taken there."

I had to content myself with it, as there was no choice.