She had half relapsed into her dreamy state, when a woman who
had been standing in front of her came pushing through the
crowd. Madelon instinctively stepped forward to take her
place, and roused up on finding that she was near enough to
the table to lay down her money. The croupier was counting out
the cards for the next stakes. Madelon waited till that turn
was over, and then, leaning across the back of the chair
before her, threw one of her little gold pieces on the table.
It was on the red she had staked. There was a pause as the
other players made their game; Madelon's languid pulses began
to flutter with a sudden interest, increasing to breathless
excitement as the croupier began to deal out the cards. "_Rouge
perd et la couleur_," and the poor little piece was swept away.
Madelon's heart sank with a sudden pang, and then it beat
faster, and her cheeks flushed, as, with a quick impulse,
without a moment's hesitation, she threw her remaining ten
francs on to the same spot. Another pause--another deal. "_Rouge
perd et la couleur!_" She had lost again, and her last chance
was gone.
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