Cherami passed into a second room, which was occupied by card-players: there were two tables of whist and one of écarté. With the exception of two elderly women at one of the whist tables, there were only men in the room; and as they were all busily engaged in playing, or watching the play, nobody noticed the arrival of the party in plaid trousers.
Cherami smiled at everybody, although he saw no one whom he knew; there were very few persons about the whist tables--only one or two enthusiasts watching the games--so that one could easily approach them. It was not the same with the écarté table; there was a crowd of young men about it, and it was very difficult to see their hands.
Cherami walked about for some minutes, daintily scratching the end of his nose with his gloved hand, and holding the other behind his back, under the skirt of his coat. Suddenly one of the players cried:
"Twenty francs lacking! Come, gentlemen; who'll make it good?"
"Not I, by a long shot!" said a young man, turning toward Cherami; "they're having extraordinary luck! They have passed six times over there! But I know Minoret; he's a lucky dog! When he sets about it, he's quite capable of passing twenty times in succession."
"Still twenty francs lacking," the same voice repeated; "who makes it good?"
"I," cried Cherami, in a loud voice. "I make it good; I trust to Monsieur Minoret's luck."
This remark attracted general attention to Cherami. The young men scrutinized him, then smiled, and said to one another:
"And his dress is even more extraordinary. Who ever heard of going to a wedding in plaid trousers and waistcoat!"
"No. I would like right well to know who he is. He seems to know Minoret."
A moment later, the player addressed as Minoret spoke again:
"Well! who is it who makes good the twenty francs? Why doesn't he put up the money?"
"I am the man, monsieur, who makes it good," replied Cherami, still louder than before; "and, sapristi! when I say that I make it good, it seems to me that it's the same thing as if I had put up the money! But perhaps you'll give me time to find my purse, which has slipped into the lining of my waistcoat."
The tone in which Cherami spoke imposed silence upon all those who surrounded the écarté table. It rarely happens that one cannot, by talking loud enough, produce that effect on the multitude; and if the victory on the battlefield almost always remains with the greatest numbers, so in a discussion it almost always remains with the loudest voices.