Brought up in the midst of modern civilization, these young persons
cared little for five sous a game, and on such occasions the stakes
went higher. Those were evenings of great emotion to the old blind
sister. The baroness would give her sundry hints by pressing her foot
a certain number of times, according to the size of the stake it was
safe to play. To play or not to play, if the basket were full, involved
an inward struggle, where cupidity fought with fear. If Charlotte de
Kergarouet, who was usually called giddy, was lucky in her bold throws,
her aunt on their return home (if she had not won herself), would be cold
and disapproving, and lecture the girl: she had too much decision in her
character; a young person should never assert herself in presence of
her betters; her manner of taking the basket and beginning to play was
really insolent; the proper behavior of a young girl demanded much
more reserve and greater modesty; etc.

It can easily be imagined that these games, carried on nightly for
twenty years, were interrupted now and then by narratives of events in
the town, or by discussions on public events. Sometimes the players
would sit for half an hour, their cards held fan-shape on their
stomachs, engaged in talking. If, as a result of these inattentions, a
counter was missing from the basket, every one eagerly declared that
he or she had put in their proper number. Usually the chevalier made
up the deficiency, being accused by the rest of thinking so much of
his buzzing ears, his chilly chest, and other symptoms of invalidism
that he must have forgotten his stake. But no sooner did he supply the
missing counter than Zephirine and Jacqueline were seized with
remorse; they imagined that, possibly, they themselves had forgotten
their stake; they believed--they doubted--but, after all, the
chevalier was rich enough to bear such a trifling misfortune. These
dignified and noble personages had the delightful pettiness of