his way. In spite of his night on the train, he felt no
fatigue; on the contrary, his mind and body were active. The journey had
calmed the agitation of his nerves, and it was with perfect tranquillity
he looked back upon all that had passed before his departure. In the
state of satisfaction that was his now, he had nothing more to fear from
stupidity or acts of folly; and, since he had recovered his will, all
would go well. No more backward glances, and fewer still before. The
present only should absorb him.

The present, at this moment, was play. What did they play? He knew
roulette, but he knew not if the game was roulette. He would do as
others did. If he were ridiculed, it was of little importance; and in
reality he should desire to be ridiculed. People remember with pleasure
those at whom they have laughed, and he had come here to find some one
who would remember him.

When he entered the salon where the playing was going on, he observed
that a religious silence reigned there. Round a large table covered with
a carpet of green cloth, which was divided by lines and figures, some
men were seated on high chairs, making them appear like officers;
others, on lower chairs, or simply standing about the table, pushed
or picked up the louis and bank bills on the green cloth, and a strong
voice repeated, in a monotonous tone:

"Messieurs, faites votre jeu! Le jeu est fait! Rien ne va plus!"

Then a little ivory ball was thrown into a cylinder, where it rolled
with a metallic noise. Although he had never seen roulette, it required
no effort to divine that this was the game.

And, before putting several louis on the table, he looked about him to
see how it was played. But after the tenth time he understood as little
as at first. With the rakes the croupiers collected the stakes of
certain players; with these same rakes they doubled, separated, or even
paid, in proportions of which he took no account, certain others, and
that was all.

But it mattered little. Having seen how the money was placed on the
table, that was sufficient.

He had five louis in his hand when the croupier said:

"Messieurs, faites votre jeu."

He placed them on the number thirty-two, or, at least, he believed that
he placed them on this number.

"Rien ne va plus!" The ball rolled in the cylinder.

"Thirty-one!" cried the croupier, adding some other words that Saniel
did not understand. So little did he understand roulette that he thought
he