There
must have been about a couple of hundred louis in the bank, which was
held by a dissipated, middle-aged man who, having once been handsome in
a fleshy way, had run to fat. His black hair, cropped short, stood up
like a shoebrush, and when he leaned back in his chair a roll of flesh
rose above his collar. I disliked the fellow for his unhealthiness,
and for the hard mockery in his puffy eyes. The company seemed fairly
homogeneous in its raffishness, though here and there appeared a thin,
aristocratic face, with grey moustache and pointed beard, and the homely
anxious visage of a small tradesman. But in bulk it looked an ugly,
seedy crowd, with unwashed bodies and unclean souls. I noticed an
Italian or two, and a villainous Englishman with a face like that of a
dilapidated horse. A glance at the table plastered with silver and gold
showed me that they were playing with a five-franc minimum.
Anastasius drew a handful of louis from his pocket and staked one. I
staked a five-franc piece. The cards were dealt, the banker exposed a
nine, the highest number, and the croupier's flat spoon swept the table.
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