"Who wants cards?" Koukou demanded.
"Not I," said the Hetman.
"Served," said Sydya.
The cook drew a four.
"Nine," he said.
"That card was meant for me," cursed the count. "And five, I had a
five. If only I had never promised his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon II
never to cut fives! There are times when it is hard, very hard. And
look at that beast of a Negro who plays Charlemagne."
It was true. Koukou swept in three-quarters of the chips, rose with
dignity, and bowed to the company.
"Till to-morrow, gentlemen."
"Get along, the whole pack of you," howled the Hetman of Jitomir.
"Stay with me, Lieutenant de Saint-Avit."
When we were alone, he poured out another huge cupfull of liqueur. The
ceiling of the room was lost in the gray smoke.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"After midnight. But you are not going to leave me like this, my dear
boy? I am heavy-hearted."
He wept bitterly. The tail of his coat spread out on the divan behind
him like the apple-green wings of a beetle.
"Isn't Aguida a beauty?" he went on, still weeping. "She makes me
think of the Countess de Teruel, though she is a little darker. You
know the Countess de Teruel, Mercedes, who went in bathing nude at
Biarritz, in front of the rock of the Virgin, one day when Prince
Bismarck was standing on the foot-bridge. You do not remember her?
Mercedes de Teruel."