then Sylvia saw her stake and that of the Count doubled. There were
now four gold pieces where two had been.

"Leave your money on, and see what happens," whispered Anna. "After all
you are only risking twenty francs!"

And Sylvia obediently followed the advice.

Again there came a little pause; once more the words which she had not
yet learnt to understand rang out in the croupier's monotonous voice.

She looked round her; there was anxiety and watchful suspense on all the
eager faces. The Comte de Virieu alone looked indifferent.

A moment later four gold pieces were added to the four already there.

"You had better take up your winnings, or someone may claim them,"
muttered Anna anxiously.

"Oh, but I don't like to do that," said Sylvia.

"Of course you must!"

She put out her hand and took up her four gold pieces, leaving those of
the Count on the table. Then suddenly she put back the eighty francs on
the cloth, and smiled up at him; it was a gay little shame-faced smile.
"Please don't be cross with me, kind friend,"--that is what Sylvia's
smile seemed to say to Paul de Virieu--"but this is so _very_ exciting!"

He felt stirred to the heart. How sweet, how confidingly simple she
looked! And--and how very beautiful. He at once loved and hated to see
her there, his new little "_amie Anglaise_!"

"Are you going to leave the whole of it on this time?" whispered Anna.

"Yes, I think I will. It's rather fun. After all, I'm only risking twenty
francs!" whispered back Sylvia.

And once more she won.

"What a pity you didn't start playing with a hundred francs! Think of how
rich you would be now," said Anna, with the true gambler's instinct. "But
it is clear, child, that you are going to do well this evening, and I
shall follow your luck! Take the money off now, however."

Sylvia waited to see what the Count would do. Their eyes asked and
answered the same question. He gave an imperceptible nod, and she took up
her winnings--eight gold pieces!

It was well that she had done so, for the next deal of the cards favoured
the banker.

Then something very surprising happened to Sylvia.

Someone--she thought it was Monsieur Wachner--addressed the croupier
whose duty it was to deal out the cards, and said imperiously, "_A Madame
la main!_"

Hardly knowing what she was doing, Sylvia took up the cards which had
been pushed towards her. A murmur of satisfaction ran round the table,
for there lay what even she ha