Mangogul followed Mirzoza’s advice, and visited Manilla about seven. Her women were going to put her to bed. He judged by the sadness predominant in her countenance, that she had play’d with bad luck. She walk’d to and fro, stopp’d, lifted her eyes to heaven, stamp’d with her foot, cover’d her eyes with her hands, and muttered somewhat, which the Sultan could not understand. Her women, who were undressing her, followed all these motions in panics; and if they at length compassed getting her into bed, it was not done without receiving harsh language and something worse. Now Manilla is in bed, having made no other night prayer, but some curses against a damned ace, which came seven times successively to her loss. Scarcely had she closed her eyes, when Mangogul levell’d his ring at her. Instantly her Toy exclaimed in a sorrowful tone: “Now I am repiqued and capotted.” The Sultan smiled to hear that everything about Manilla, even to her Toy, spoke gaming. “No,” continued the Toy, “I will never play against Abidul: he knows nothing but tricking. Speak to me no more of Dares: with him one runs the risk of some unlucky hits. Ismal is a pretty fair player, but everybody has him not that would. Mazulim was a treasure, before he fell into the hands of Crissa. I don’t know a more whimsical player than Zulmis.