s all, the all
of a young man sent up to Paris to make his fortune, with a horse, his
sword, and a bag of crowns--the latter saved for him by a father's stern
frugality, a mother's tender self-denial. A week ago he had never seen a
game of chance. Then he had seen; the dice had fallen in his way, the
devil of play, cursed legacy of some long-forgotten ancestor, had awoke
within him, and this was the end. "I accept," he said slowly.

His opponent, still with his secretive smile, took up the caster. But a
short, sturdy man, who was standing at his elbow, and who wore the
colours of the Duke of Guise, intervened. "No, Michel," he said, with a
good-natured glance at the young player. "Let the lad choose his bones,
and throw first or last as he pleases."

"Right," said Berthaud, yawning. "It is no matter. My star is in the
ascendant to-night. He will not win."

The young man took up the box, shook it, hesitated, swallowed, and threw
seven!

Berthaud threw carelessly--seven!

Some shouted, some drew a deep breath, or whispered an oath. These wild
spirits, who had faced death often in one form or another, were still
children, and still in a new thing found a new pleasure.

"Your star may be in the ascendant," the man muttered who had intervened
before, "but it--well, it twinkles, Michel."

Berthaud did not answer. The young man made him a sign to throw. He
threw again--eight.

The young man threw with a hand that scarcely dared to let the dice go.
Seven! He had lost.

An outburst might have been expected, some cry of violence, of despair.
It did not come. And a murmur passed round the circle. "Berthaud will
recruit him," growled one. "A queer game," muttered another, and thought
hard. Nor did the men go back to their tables. They waited to see what
would follow, what would come of it. For the young man who had lost sat
staring at the table like one in a dream; until presently his opponent
reaching out a hand touched his sleeve. "Courage!" Berthaud said, a
flicker of triumph in his eye, "a word with you aside. No need of
despair, man. You have but to do what I ask, and you will see sixty
yet."

Obedient to his gesture the young man rose, and the other drawing him
aside began to talk to him in a low voice. The remaining players
loitering about the deserted table could not hear what was said; but one
or two by feigning to strike a sudden blow, seemed to pass on their
surmises to those round them. One thing was clear.