saw! Mister Jools simply mistaken the house,--thinkin' it was a
Sabbath-school! No such thing, saw; I _ain't_ bound to bet! Yes, I kin
git out! Yes, without bettin'! I hev a right to my _o_pinion; I reckon
I'm _a white man_, saw! No, saw! I on'y said I didn't think you could
get the game on them cards. 'Sno such thing, saw! I do _not_ know how to
play! I wouldn't hev a rascal's money ef I should win it! Shoot ef you
dare! You can kill me, but you cayn't scare me! No, I shayn't bet! I'll
die first! Yes, saw; Mr. Jools can bet for me if he admires to; I ain't
his mostah."

Here the speaker seemed to direct his words to St.-Ange.

"Saw, I don't understand you, saw. I never said I'd loan you money to
bet for me. I didn't suspicion this from you, saw. No, I won't take any
more lemonade; it's the most notorious stuff I ever drank, saw!"

M. St.-Ange's replies were in _falsetto_ and not without effect; for
presently the parson's indignation and anger began to melt. "Don't ask
me, Jools, I can't help you. It's no use; it's a matter of conscience
with me, Jools."

"_Mais oui!_ 'tis a matt' of conscien' wid me, the same."

"But, Jools, the money's none o' mine, nohow; it belongs to Smyrny, you
know."

"If I could make jus' _one_ bet," said the persuasive St.-Ange, "I would
leave this place, fas'-fas', yes. If I had thing--_mais_ I did not
soupspicion this from you, Posson Jone'--"

"Don't, Jools, don't!"

"No, Posson Jone'!"

"You're bound to win?" said the parson, wavering.

"_Mais certainement!_ But it is not to win that I want; 'tis me
conscien'--me honor!"

"Well, Jools, I hope I'm not a-doin' no wrong. I'll loan you some of
this money if you say you'll come right out 'thout takin' your
winnin's."

All was still. The peeping children could see the parson as he lifted
his hand to his breast-pocket. There it paused a moment in bewilderment,
then plunged to the bottom. It came back empty, and fell lifelessly at
his side. His head dropped upon his breast, his eyes were for a moment
closed, his broad palms were lifted and pressed against his forehead, a
tremor seized him, and he fell all in a lump to the floor. The children
ran off with their infant-loads, leaving Jules St.-Ange swearing by all
his deceased relatives, first to Miguel and Joe, and then to the lifted
parson, that he did not know what had become of the money "except if"
the black man had got it.

* * * * *

In the rea