“But the rules do not allow of more than 120 gülden being staked upon zero at a time.”
“How ‘do not allow’? Surely you are wrong? Monsieur, monsieur—” here she nudged the croupier who was sitting on her left, and preparing to spin—“ combien zero? Douze? Douze? ”
I hastened to translate.
“ Oui, Madame ,” was the croupier’s polite reply. “No single stake must exceed four thousand florins. That is the regulation.”
“Then there is nothing else for it. We must risk in gülden.”
“ Le jeu est fait! ” the croupier called. The wheel revolved, and stopped at thirty. We had lost!
“Again, again, again! Stake again!” shouted the old lady. Without attempting to oppose her further, but merely shrugging my shoulders, I placed twelve more ten-gülden pieces upon the table. The wheel whirled around and around, with the Grandmother simply quaking as she watched its revolutions.
“Does she again think that zero is going to be the winning coup?” thought I, as I stared at her in astonishment. Yet an absolute assurance of winning was shining on her face; she looked perfectly convinced that zero was about to be called again. At length the ball dropped off into one of the notches.
“Zero!” cried the croupier.
“Ah!!!” screamed the old lady as she turned to me in a whirl of triumph.
I myself was at heart a gambler. At that moment I became acutely conscious both of that fact and of the fact that my hands and knees were