When he finally discovered that he was alone, Cherami returned to the private dining-room, sat down at the table, looked into the bowl, where there was still some punch, and poured out a glass, saying to himself:

"After all, I shall have no difficulty in finding them again. The uncle doesn't seem quite so amiable as the nephew; there's a something stiff and cold in his face. He fell in here like a bombshell. It's a pity; I felt just in the mood to kidnap the bride before the noses of the Athenians and of all those hussies who hid their faces with their handkerchiefs. Suppose I go and clean out the whole crowd? No, they're not worth the trouble. I prefer to pay a visit to the Blanquette festivity; there I am known, they won't treat me as an intruder. Sapristi! what a pity that I hadn't the time to borrow a few napoleons from my new friend. He would have loaned them to me; there's no doubt about it. Ah! I waited too long; but I couldn't suspect that an uncle would arrive all of a sudden—just as they do in vaudevilles, to bring about an unexpected dÉnouement. Aha! what do I hear? Music, they're playing a quadrille. Gad! it seems to me that I could make a pretty figure at a little contra-dance. That music puts me right in the mood for it. O power of music! Emollit mores nec sint esse feros. I think I'll go and say that to the bucks who are dancing upstairs! They'd think I was asking them for a cigar.—Pretty music! Sapristi! it shall not be said that I remained alone in this room, like a bear in its cage, while everybody else in the place is enjoying himself. Here goes for a look in at the Blanquette function."

And Cherami jumped to his feet, put his hat on his head, took his little cane, and rushed from the room. When he was in the corridor, he lurched against the wall more than once; but, with the instinct of a man accustomed to frequent over-indulgence, he drew himself up and steadied himself on his legs.

"What does this mean?" he said.—"You stumble for a glass or two of punch? Come, come, Arthur, I shouldn't know you, my boy; you're not drunk, you can't be drunk."

Thereupon the mind steadied the body, and he walked to the stairway with a somewhat less uncertain step. There he could plainly hear the orchestra of the elegant MonlÉard ball. He paused a moment, saying to himself:

"Suppose I should enter abruptly, and make a scene with the perfidious Fanny, in behalf of my young friend Gustave—what a stunning coup! what an effect I would produce!—Yes, but those people don't know me; they don't know that I once had thirty-five thousand francs a year, and that I have been the most popular man in Paris. They would be quite capable of treating me as an intruder! I should talk back—and then, duels! Let's not end in sadness a day so well employed. Dies fasti, as the Romans used to say. It's surprising how the punch brings back my Latin! Let's go up a floor, and join the Blanquette wedding party; there, at all events, I know the bridegroom slightly, and the uncle very well. I owe him four or five hundred francs for cloth—an additional reason why he should receive me well; a man never closes his door to his debtors."

Having arrived on the second floor, Cherami heard the strains of another orchestra; he passed through a large room where he saw nothing but men's hats hanging on hooks, and immediately hung up his own and placed his cane beside it.

"I must show my breeding," he said to himself; "one doesn't appear at a wedding party as at a messroom. Ah! what do I see in that corner? a very fine yellow glove, on my word! Pardieu! it arrives most opportunely! It's for the left hand, but, no matter: I can keep the other in my pocket. It fits me, it really fits me beautifully! What a pity that the man who dropped it didn't drop the right-hand one too! No matter; this one gives a sort of dressed-up, coquettish air, which sets off the wearer. I will keep my right hand under the tail of my coat—nay, I will skilfully hold both tails in my hand, and people will think I'm in full dress. Forward, charge their guns!"

Cherami passed into a second room, which was occupied by card-players: there were two tables of whist and one of ÉcartÉ. With the exception of two elderly women at one of the whist tables, there were only men in the room; and as they were all busily engaged in playing, or watching the play, nobody noticed the arrival of the party in plaid trousers.

Cherami smiled at everybody, although he saw no one whom he knew; there were very few persons about the whist tables—only one or two enthusiasts watching the games—so that one could easily approach them. It was not the same with the ÉcartÉ table; there was a crowd of young men about it, and it was very difficult to see their hands.

Cherami walked about for some minutes, daintily scratching the end of his nose with his gloved hand, and holding the other behind his back, under the skirt of his coat. Suddenly one of the players cried:

"Twenty francs lacking! Come, gentlemen; who'll make it good?"

"Not I, by a long shot!" said a young man, turning toward Cherami; "they're having extraordinary luck! They have passed six times over there! But I know Minoret; he's a lucky dog! When he sets about it, he's quite capable of passing twenty times in succession."

"Still twenty francs lacking," the same voice repeated; "who makes it good?"

"I," cried Cherami, in a loud voice. "I make it good; I trust to Monsieur Minoret's luck."

This remark attracted general attention to Cherami. The young men scrutinized him, then smiled, and said to one another:

"Who the deuce is this fellow?"

"What an extraordinary figure!"

"And his dress is even more extraordinary. Who ever heard of going to a wedding in plaid trousers and waistcoat!"

"And they're far from new."

"He wasn't at the supper, I'm sure."

"No. I would like right well to know who he is. He seems to know Minoret."

A moment later, the player addressed as Minoret spoke again:

"Well! who is it who makes good the twenty francs? Why doesn't he put up the money?"

"I am the man, monsieur, who makes it good," replied Cherami, still louder than before; "and, sapristi! when I say that I make it good, it seems to me that it's the same thing as if I had put up the money! But perhaps you'll give me time to find my purse, which has slipped into the lining of my waistcoat."

The tone in which Cherami spoke imposed silence upon all those who surrounded the ÉcartÉ table. It rarely happens that one cannot, by talking loud enough, produce that effect on the multitude; and if the victory on the battlefield almost always remains with the greatest numbers, so in a discussion it almost always remains with the loudest voices.

So the card-players concluded to deal the cards and go on with the game. Meanwhile, Cherami went through a very curious pantomime. Having decided to withdraw his right hand from behind his back, he plunged it into one pocket of his waistcoat, then into the other, then into his trousers-pockets, pretending to be in search of something which he was very sure of not finding; but he went about it with a zeal which deceived the most incredulous, interspersing his investigations with such ejaculations as:

"Where the devil have I put my purse! It's inconceivable—as soon as you begin to look for a thing, you can't remember what you did with it! I certainly had it just now when I paid my cabman. Can I have dropped it beside my pocket, thinking that I put it inside? Let's try this side; it seems to me that I feel something. Yes—I have it at last. Oh! the devil! it isn't my purse, it's my cigar-case!—I believe I haven't looked in this pocket."

But, as our bettor hoped, the game came to an end before he had finished his search; and ere long these words reached his ears, and filled his heart with joy:

"I was sure of it; Minoret has won again!"

Cherami instantly rushed to the table, extended his left hand, closed, to the player on whom he had bet, and said:

"I have just found my purse: here's the twenty francs I bet on you, monsieur."

"You don't need to put up the money, monsieur, as we have won," replied Minoret; "on the contrary, here's twenty francs that belongs to you."

As he spoke, the player handed Cherami a twenty-franc piece; but in order to take it, he would have had to open the hand which he held tightly closed, and then they would have seen that he had nothing in it. Like the shrewd man he was, he realized the peril of his position, and boldly solved the difficulty by replying in his turn:

"Very good, monsieur; keep the twenty francs; I will bet on you again."

To those who consider that it was very imprudent for a man who had not a sou, to risk upon one deal the twenty francs he had just won, we reply that, as a general rule, those who are most in need of money play for the highest stakes. Moreover, in this instance, Cherami was excused by the embarrassing position in which he was placed.

Monsieur Minoret's luck did not change; he won six times more, and was not beaten until the seventh; and Cherami, who had continued to bet on the same side, found himself in possession of one hundred and twenty francs when he left the table, at which he had taken his place without a sou. There was a fitting occasion to speak Latin; and our gambler, after the sacramental "I have my cue," did not fail to add: "Audaces fortuna juvat!" Never was maxim more fittingly applied; indeed, one might perhaps consider that on this occasion Cherami was something more than audacious.

"I must confess that I did well to bet!" said Cherami to himself, jingling in his pockets the gold pieces he had won. "Pardieu! I am tempted to go and buy a right-hand glove. Bah! what's the use? I may well have lost the other. The first owner of this one must find himself in the same predicament. Let's go to the ballroom; I feel in the mood for a polka, and if there's any susceptible female there, I will fascinate her by my glances."