Her age appeared to
be about twenty-eight; she had dark eyes, full lips, and a distinctly
Jewish nose. She was handsome, but her beauty was of that
forbidding, sinister order which is often called Junoesque. This
woman was the centre of attraction. People said to each other that
she had won a hundred and sixty thousand francs that day at the
table.
'You were right,' Prince Aribert whispered to Theodore Racksole;
'that is the Berlin lady.'
'The deuce she is! Has she seen you? Will she know you?'
'She would probably know me, but she hasn't looked up yet.'
'Keep behind her, then. I propose to find her a little occupation.' By
dint of a carefully-exercised diplomacy, Racksole manoeuvred
himself into a seat opposite to the lady in the red hat. The fame of
his success at the other table had followed him, and people
regarded him as a serious and formidable player. In the first turn
the lady put a thousand francs on double zero; Racksole put a
hundred on number nineteen and a thousand on the odd numbers.
Nineteen won. Racksole received four thousand four hundred
francs. Nine times in succession Racksole backed number nineteen
and the odd numbers; nine times the lady backed double zero.
Nine times Racksole won and the lady lost. The other players,
perceiving that the affair had resolved itself into a duel, stood back
for the most part and watched those two. Prince Aribert never
stirred from his position behind the great red hat.
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