a man who
plays at quinze by a detachment of foot: I must, indeed, confess that you
are already a great soldier."

The next day everything happened as the Chevalier Grammont had planned
it; the unfortunate Cameran fell into the snare. They supped in the most
agreeable manner possible Matta drank five or six bumpers to drown a few
scruples which made him somewhat uneasy. The Chevalier de Grammont shone
as usual, and almost made his guest die with laughing, whom he was soon
after to make very serious; and the good-natured Cameran ate like a man
whose affections were divided between good cheer and a love of play; that
is to say, he hurried down his victuals, that he might not lose any of
the precious time which he had devoted to quinze.

Supper being done, the sergeant La Place posted his ambuscade, and the
Chevalier de Grammont engaged his man. The perfidy of Cerise, and the
high-crowned hat, were still fresh in remembrance, and enabled him to get
the better of a few grains of remorse, and conquer some scruples which
arose in his mind. Matta, unwilling to be a spectator of violated
hospitality, sat down in an easy chair, in order to fall asleep, while
the Chevalier was stripping the poor Count of his money.

They only staked three or four pistoles at first, just for amusement; but
Cameran having lost three or four times, he staked high, and the game
became serious. He still lost, and became outrageous; the cards flew
about the room, and the exclamations awoke Matta.

As his head was heavy with sleep, and hot with wine, he began to laugh
at the passion of the Piedmontese, instead of consoling him. "Faith, my
poor Count," said he, "if I were in your place, I would play no more."
"Why so?" said the other. "I don't know," said he, "but my heart tells
me that your ill-luck will continue." "I will try that," said Cameran,
calling for fresh cards. "Do so," said Matta, and fell asleep again.
It was but for a short time. All cards were equally unfortunate for
the loser. He held none but tens or court-cards; and if by chance he had
quinze, he was sure to be the younger hand, and therefore lost it. Again
he stormed. "Did not I tell you so?" said Matta, starting out of his
sleep. "All your storming is in vain; as long as you play you will lose.
Believe me, the shortest follies are the best. Leave off, for the devil
take me if it is possible for you to win." "Why?" said Cameran, who
began to be impatient. "Do you wish to know?" sai