At first the old lady did no more than watch the gamblers, and ply me, in a half-whisper, with sharp-broken questions as to who was so-and-so. Especially did her favour light upon a very young man who was plunging heavily, and had won (so it was whispered) as much as 40,000 francs, which were lying before him on the table in a heap of gold and banknotes. His eyes kept flashing, and his hands shaking; yet all the while he staked without any sort of calculation⁠—just what came to his hand, as he kept winning and winning, and raking and raking in his gains. Around him lackeys fussed⁠—placing chairs just behind where he was standing⁠—and clearing the spectators from his vicinity, so that he should have more room, and not be crowded⁠—the whole done, of course, in expectation of a generous largesse. From time to time other gamblers would hand him part of their winnings⁠—being glad to let him stake for them as much as his hand could grasp; while beside him stood a Pole in a state of violent, but respectful, agitation, who, also in expectation of a generous largesse, kept whispering to him at intervals (probably telling him what to stake, and advising and directing his play). Yet never once did the player throw him a glance as he staked and staked, and raked in his winnings. Evidently, the player in question was dead to all besides.