players looked up at the old man at first greatly
astonished, but after that they treated him with provoking contempt.
Nevertheless his face never moved a muscle, far less did he utter a
single word of complaint.

"The old man lost; he lost one stake after another; but the higher his
losses rose the more pleased the other players got. And at last, when
the new-comer, who continued to double his stake every time, placed
five hundred _Louis d'or_ at once upon a card and this the very next
moment turned up on the losing side, one of the other players cried
with a laugh, 'Good-luck, Signor Vertua, good-luck! Don't lose heart.
Go on staking; you look to me as if you would finish with breaking the
bank through your immense winnings.' The old man shot a basilisk-like
look upon the mocker and hurried away, but only to return at the end of
half an hour with his pockets full of gold. In the last _taille_ he
was, however, obliged to cease playing, since he had again lost all the
money he had brought back with him.

"This scornful and contemptuous treatment of the old man had
excessively annoyed the Chevalier, for in spite of all his abominable
practices, he yet insisted on certain rules of good behaviour being
observed at his table. And so on the conclusion of the game, when
Signor Vertua had taken his departure, the Chevalier felt he had
sufficient grounds to speak a serious word or two to the mocker, as
well as to one or two other players whose contemptuous treatment of the
old man had been most conspicuous, and whom the Chevalier had bidden
stay behind for this purpose.

"'Ah! but, Chevalier,' cried one of them, 'you don't know old Francesco
Vertua, or else you would have no fault to find with us and our
behaviour towards him; you would rather approve of it. For let me tell
you that this Vertua, a Neapolitan by birth, who has been fifteen years
in Paris, is the meanest, dirtiest, most pestilent miser and usurer who
can be found anywhere. He is a stranger to every human feeling; if he
saw his own brother writhing at his feet in the agonies of death, it
would be an utter waste of pains to try to entice a single _Louis d'or_
from him, even if it were to save his brother's life. He has a heavy
burden of curses and imprecations to bear, which have been showered
down upon him by a multitude of men, nay, by entire families, who have
been plunged into the deepest distress through his diabolical
speculations. He is hated like poison