The gaming room was very long and narrow. A huge table, almost level
with the floor and surrounded with cushions on which a dozen natives
were lying, was the chief article of furniture. Two engravings on the
wall gave evidence of the happiest broadmindedness in taste; one of da
Vinci's St. John the Baptist, and the _Maison des Dernières
Cartouches_ of Alphonse de Neuville.
On the table were earthenware goblets. A heavy jar held palm liqueur.
I recognized acquaintances among those present; my masseur, the
manicure, the barber, and two or three Tuareg who had lowered their
veils and were gravely smoking long pipes. While waiting for something
better, all were plunged in the delights of a card game that looked
like "rams." Two of Antinea's beautiful ladies in waiting, Aguida and
Sydya, were among the number. Their smooth bistre skins gleamed
beneath veils shot with silver. I was sorry not to see the red silk
tunic of Tanit-Zerga. Again, I thought of Morhange, but only for an
instant.
"The chips, Koukou," demanded the Hetman, "We are not here to amuse
ourselves."
The Zwinglian cook placed a box of many-colored chips in front of him.
Count Bielowsky set about counting them and arranging them in little
piles with infinite care.
"The white are worth a _louis_," he explained to me. "The red, a
hundred francs. The yellow, five hundred. The green, a thousand. Oh,
it's the devil of a game that we play here. You will see."
"I open with ten thousand," said the Zwinglian cook.
"Twelve thousand," said the Hetman.
"Thirteen," said Sydya with a slow smile, as she seated herself on the
count's knee and began to arrange her chips lovingly in little piles.
"Fourteen," I said.
"Fifteen," said the sharp voice of Rosita, the old manicure.
"Seventeen," proclaimed the Hetman.
"Twenty thousand," the cook broke in.
He hammered on the table and, casting a defiant look at us, repeated:
"I take it at twenty thousand."
The Hetman made an impatient gesture.
"That devil, Koukou! You can't do anything against the beast. You will
have to play carefully, Lieutenant."
Koukou had taken his place at the end of the table. He threw down the
cards with an air which abashed me.
"I told you so; the way it was at Anna Deslions'," the Hetman murmured
proudly.
"Make your bets, gentlemen," yelped the Negro. "Make your bets."
"Wait, you beast," called Bielowsky. "Don't you see that the glasses
are empty? Here, Cacambo."
The goblets were filled immediately by the jolly masseur.
"Cut," said Koukou, addressing Sydya, the beautiful Targa who sat at
his right.
The girl cut, like one who knows superstitions, with her left hand.
But it must be said that her right was busy lifting a cup to her lips.
I watched the curve of her beautiful throat.
"My deal," said Koukou.
We were thus arranged: at the left, the Hetman, Aguida, whose waist he
had encircled with the most aristocratic freedom, Cacambo, a Tuareg
woman, then two veiled Negroes who were watching the game intently. At
the right, Sydya, myself, the old manicure, Rosita, Barouf, the
barber, another woman and two white Tuareg, grave and attentive,
exactly opposite those on the left.
"Give me one," said the Hetman.
Sydya made a negative gesture.
Koukou drew, passed a four-spot to the Hetman, gave himself a five.
"Eight," announced Bielowsky.
"Six," said pretty Sydya.
"Seven," broke in Koukou. "One card makes up for another," he added
coldly.
"I double," said the Hetman.
Cacambo and Aguida followed his example. On our side, we were more
careful. The manicure especially would not risk more than twenty
francs at a time.
"I demand that the cards be evened up," said Koukou imperturbably.
"This fellow is unbearable," grumbled the count. "There, are you
satisfied?"
Koukou dealt and laid down a nine.
"My country and my honor!" raged Bielowsky. "I had an eight."
I had two kings, and so showed no ill temper. Rosita took the cards
out of my hands.
I watched Sydya at my right. Her heavy black hair covered her
shoulders. She was really very beautiful, though a bit tipsy, as were
all that fantastic company. She looked at me, too, but with lowered
eyelids, like a timid little wild animal.
"Oh," I thought. "She may well be afraid. I am labelled 'No
trespassing.'"