nd, opposite him, the
dealer, equally impassive. Unlike faro--the popular New Orleans
game--no deal box was needed, the dealer holding the cards in his
hand, while a cavity in the center of the table contained a basket,
where the cards, once used, were thrown. A large chandelier cast a
brilliant light upon the scene.

"_Messieurs, faites vos jeux_," drawled the monotonous voice of the
dealer, and expectation was keenly written on the faces of the double
circle of players--variously disclosed, but, nevertheless, apparent in
all; a transformation of the natural expression of the features; an
obvious nervousness of manner, or where the countenance was impassive,
controlled by a strong will, a peculiar glitter of the eyes,
betokening the most insatiable species of the gambler. As the dealer
began to shuffle together six packs of cards and place them in a row
on the table, he called out:

"Nothing more goes, gentlemen!"

The rapidity with which the cashier counted the winnings at a distance
and shoved them here and there with the long rake was amazing and
bewildering to the novice risking a few gold pieces for the first time
on the altar of chance. Sorting the gold pieces in even bunches, the
cashier estimated them in a moment; shoved them together; counted an
equal amount of fives with his fingers; made a little twirl in the
pile on the table; pushed it toward the winning pieces and left them
tumbled up together in pleasing confusion.

"_Messieurs, faites vos_--"

And the clinking went on, growing louder and louder, the clinking of
gold, which has a particularly musical sound, penetrating,
crystalline as the golden bells of Exodus, tinkling in the twilight of
the temple on the priest's raiment. The clinking, clinking, that
lingers in the brain long after, drawing the players to it night after
night; an intoxicating murmur, singing the desires that dominate the
world; the jingling that makes all men kin!

"Oh, dear!" said a light feminine voice, as the rapacious rake
unceremoniously drew in a poor, diminutive pile of gold. "Why did I
play? Isn't it provoking?"

"You have my sympathy, Mistress Susan," breathed a voice near her.

Looking around, she had the grace to blush becomingly, and approached
Mauville with an expressive gesture, leaving Adonis and Kate at the
table.

"Don't be shocked, Mr. Mauville," she began, hurriedly. "We were told
it was among the sights, and, having natural curiosity--"

"I understand