Brag; the principle being that the players increase the stakes without
seeing each other's cards, till one refuses to go on and throws up, or
shows his point. Raymond was left in at last with one adversary; the
stakes had mounted up to a sum that was fearful, and it was his choice
to double or _abattre_. Of course, it was of the last importance to
discover whether the antagonist was strong or not; but the Frenchman's
face gave not the slightest sign. He was _beau joueur s'il en fût_, and
had lost two fair fortunes at play. Raymond hesitated, looking steadily
into his opponent's eyes. All at once he smiled and doubled instantly.
The other dared not go on; he showed his point, and lost. They asked
Raymond afterward how he could have detected any want of confidence to
guide him in a face that looked like marble.

"I saw three drops of perspiration on his forehead," he said; "and I
knew my own hand was strong."

Lady Catharine was resting on a sofa: she looked tired and paler than
usual, not in the least available for conversation. Miss Raymond had
nestled herself into the recesses of a huge arm-chair close to the
fire--she was as fond of warmth, when she could not get sunshine, as a
tropical bird--and Forrester was lounging on an ottoman behind her, so
that his head almost touched her elbow. When I caught scraps of their
conversation it seemed to be turning on the most ordinary subjects; but
even in these I should have felt lost--I had been so long away from
England--so I contented myself with watching them, and wondering why
discussions as to the merits of operas and inquiries after mutual
acquaintances should make the fair cheeks hang out signals of distress
so often as they did that evening.

I lingered in the smoking-room about midnight for a moment after