t
so much as thinking of Contarini as a possible helper in trouble. But it
was almost impossible not to feel a sort of artistic surprise at
Jacopo's extraordinary beauty of face and figure, if not at the splendid
garments in which he delighted to array himself.

It was with a slight condescension that he greeted the group of players,
some of whom at once made a place for him at the table. They had been
ready enough to stand by Venier against him in Zorzi's defence, but
unless Venier led the way, there was not one of them who would think of
opposing him, or taking him to task for what was very like a betrayal.
Venier returned his greeting with some coldness, which Contarini hardly
noticed, as his reception by the others had been sufficiently
flattering. Then they began to play.

Jacopo won from the first. Foscari bent his heavy eyebrows and tugged at
his beard angrily, as he lost one throw after another; the cold sweat
stood on Mocenigo's forehead in beads, as he risked more and more, and
Loredan's hand trembled when it was his turn to take up the dice box
against Contarini; for they played a game in which each threw against
all the rest in succession.

"You cannot say that the dice are loaded," laughed Contarini at last,
"for they are your own!"

"The delicacy of the thought is only exceeded by the good taste that
expresses it," observed Venier.

"You are sarcastic, my friend," answered Jacopo, shaking the dice. "It
is your turn with me."

Jacopo threw first. Venier followed him and lost.

"That is my last throw," he said, as he pushed the remains of his small
heap of gold across to Contarini. "I have no more money to-day, nor
shall I have to-morrow."

"Hossein has plenty," suggested Foscari, who hoped that Contarini's luck
would desert him before long.

"At this rate you will need all he has," returned Venier with a careless
laugh.

Before long more than one of the players was obliged to call in the
ever-complacent Persian merchant, and the heap of gold grew in front of
Jacopo, till he could hardly keep it together.

"It is true that you have been losing for years," said Mocenigo, trying
to laugh, "but we did not think you would win back all your losses in a
day."

"You shall have your revenge to-night," answered Contarini, rising. "I
am expected at a friend's house at this hour."

His large wallet was so full of gold that he could hardly draw the
strong silken strings together and tie them.

"A fri