She trembled all over, as if she were going to fall. She could hardly
believe that she had heard aright, until Madame d'Ambre exclaimed close
to her ear: "You have won! I told you that I would bring you luck!"

The actress, petulant with persistent ill fortune, got up muttering, and
pushed back her chair. Mechanically Mary dropped into it. A pile of
money, notes and gold, was moved toward her by the croupier's rake.
People were staring. She was young and beautiful, and evidently half
fainting with excitement. Besides, she had won a large sum. It was
always a good thing to win on a number _en plein_. But to win the
maximum on a number! That somehow did not often happen except to Russian
grand dukes and American millionaires.

Mary, confused, and quivering like a struck violin, took her winnings,
but, supposing all the money on her side of the table to be hers also,
earned by the nine louis, began gayly to gather in with small,
white-gloved hands everything within reach.

A cry of protest went up, half laughing, half indignant. Groups of
non-players who had been chatting or strolling round the rooms hurried
to the table to see "what was the row," any sensation, big or small,
being an event to receive thankfully.

"Mais, Mademoiselle!"

The small, predatory hands were arrested: quickly it was explained that
when a player wins he has not won all the money on the table. There are
others also in luck. Mary, abashed, but too excited to be deeply shamed,
apologized in pretty French. Those she would unwittingly have robbed
were disarmed by soft eyes and the appeal of dimples. Even hawklike old
women ceased to glare. "It is her first seance," was the forgiving
whisper. The neat piles of money which she had reduced to ruin and
confusion were sorted out again between croupiers and players, while the
game obligingly waited. If the offender had been old and dowdy, every
one would have grumbled angrily at the bother and delay, but as it was,
men grinned and women were tolerant. After three minutes' halt play was
ready to begin again.

"Better come away now, Mademoiselle. It is I who counsel you," advised
Madame d'Ambre. "It is not well to trust such luck too far. Or else,
play with a few five-franc pieces to amuse yourself. If you win, so much
to the good. If you lose, what matter? You have still the _gros lot_."

"I couldn't do that. I must trust my luck. I am going on. I shall play
on twenty-four again. I wish there were m