looked like the vignette of a keepsake, who received him with manners
and graces the like of which was neither in the memory nor the
imagination of a young clerk rigidly brought up. After admiring the
splendors of the apartment and the beautiful women there displayed, who
had all outdone each other in their dress for this occasion, Oscar was
taken by the hand and led by Florentine to a vingt-et-un table.

"Let me present you," she said, "to the beautiful Marquise d'Anglade,
one of my nearest friends."

And she took Oscar to the pretty Fanny Beaupre, who had just made
herself a reputation at the Porte-Saint-Martin, in a melodrama entitled
"La Famille d'Anglade."

"My dear," said Florentine, "allow me to present to you a charming
youth, whom you can take as a partner in the game."

"Ah! that will be delightful," replied the actress, smiling, as she
looked at Oscar. "I am losing. Shall we go shares, monsieur?"

"Madame la marquise, I am at your orders," said Oscar, sitting down
beside her.

"Put down the money; I'll play; you shall being me luck! See, here are
my last hundred francs."

And the "marquise" took out from her purse, the rings of which were
adorned with diamonds, five gold pieces. Oscar pulled out his hundred in
silver five-franc pieces, much ashamed at having to mingle such ignoble
coins with gold. In ten throws the actress lost the two hundred francs.

"Oh! how stupid!" she cried. "I'm banker now. But we'll play together
still, won't we?"

Fanny Beaupre rose to take her place as banker, and Oscar, finding
himself observed by the whole table, dared not retire on the ground that
he had no money. Speech failed him, and his tongue clove to the roof of
his mouth.

"Lend me five hundred francs," said the actress to the danseuse.

Florentine brought the money, which she obtained from Georges, who had
just passed eight times at ecarte.

"Nathan has won twelve hundred francs," said the actress to Oscar.
"Bankers always win; we won't let them fool us, will we?" she whispered
in his ear.

Persons of nerve, imagination, and dash will understand how it was that
poor Oscar opened his pocket-book and took out the note of five
hundred francs which Desroches had given him. He looked at Nathan, the
distinguished author, who now began, with Florine, to play a heavy game
against the bank.

"Come, my little man, take 'em up," cried Fanny Beaupre, signing to
Oscar to rake in the two hundred francs which Nathan a