It seemed so
natural to be standing there watching the play--the expectant
silence, the clink of the coin, the monotonous drone of the
croupier, were all so familiar, that for a minute she quite
forgot that she had any special object in view; and then, with
one of those starts of realization with which from time to
time she seemed to waken up out of some confused dream, she
remembered why she was there, and what she had to do. It was
only then, that on taking out her purse with its cherished
contents, so as to be ready when her turn should come, it
flashed across her mind that she had intended to ask Madame
Bertrand to change the two ten-franc pieces that formed her
capital, into pieces of five francs, which would have given
her two chances more. Well--it could not be helped now, and,
after all, had she not more than enough? "_Dix francs, et je
ferai fortune--dix francs, et je ferai fortune_--" The old words
seemed to set themselves to a tune in Madelon's head, chiming
in with the croupier's perpetual "_Rouge gagne et la couleur_,"
"_Rouge perd et la couleur_," whilst the two precious coins grew
warm in the little hand that was clasped so tightly over them.
Pages:
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386