Such was the remark of the keeper of the table. He had overheard
my counsellor. He felt his losses, and was angry. I saw that, and
it determined me. I took the counsel of the stranger. I was the
more willing to do so, as I reproached myself for my inattention
to my friend. It was time to see what had been his progress, and I
prepared to leave the theatre of my own success. Before doing so,
I turned to my counsellor, and thus addressed him: "Your advice has
made me win; I trust I will not offend a gentleman who has been so
courteous, by requesting him to take my place upon a small capital."
I put twenty pieces into his hand.
"I am but a young beginner," I continued, "and I owe you for my
first lesson."
"You are too good," he said, but his hand closed over the dollars.
The keeper of the table renewed his murmurs of discontent as he
saw me turn away.
"Ah! bah! Petit, what's the use to grumble?" demanded my representative.
"Do you suppose I will give up my sport for yours? When would I
get a sixpence to stake, if it were not that I was kind to young
fellows just beginning? There; growl no more; the twenty Mexicans
upon the red!"
The next minute my gratuity was swallowed up in the great spoon of
the banker. I was near enough, to see the result. I placed another
ten pieces in the hand of the unsuccessful gambler.
"Very good," said he; "very much obliged to you; but if you please,
I will do no more to-night. It's not my lucky night. I've
lost every set."
"As you please--when you please."
"You are a gentleman," he said; "the sooner you go home the better.
A young beginner seldom wins in the small hours."
This was said in another whisper. I thanked him for his further
suggestion, and turned away, leaving him to a side squabble with the
banker, who finally concluded by telling him that he never wished
to see him at his table.
"The more fool you, Petit," said Brinckoff; "for the youngster that
wins comes back, and he does not always win. You finish him in the
end as you finished me, and what more would you have?"
The rest, and there was much more, was inaudible to me. I hurried
from the place somewhat ashamed of my success. I doubt whether
I should have had the like feelings had I lost. As it was, never
did possession seem more cumbrous than the mixed gold, paper, and
silver, with which my pockets were burdened. I gladly thought of
Kingsley, to avoid thinking of myself. It was certain, I fancied,
that he had not lost, else how could he have continued to play? My
anxiety hurried me into the room where I had left him.