"Everything is progressing as favorably as I could wish, Monsieur
le Baron, but I must speak with that foreigner whom I met here
this morning."
"Kami-Bey?"
"Yes." And in a few words, Pascal explained the situation.
"Providence is certainly on our side," said the baron,
thoughtfully. "Kami is still here."
"Is it possible?"
"It's a fact. Did you think it would be easy to get rid of this
confounded Turk! He invited himself to breakfast without the
slightest ceremony, and would give me no peace until I promised to
play with him for two hours. I was closeted with him, cards in
hand, when they told me you were here. Come, we'll go and
question him."
They found the interesting foreigner in a savage mood. He had
been winning when the servant came for the baron, and he feared
that an interruption would change the luck. "What the devil took
you away?" he exclaimed, with that coarseness of manner which was
habitual with him, and which the flatterers around him styled
"form." "A man should no more be disturbed when he's playing than
when he's eating."
"Come, come, prince," said the baron, good-naturedly, "don't be
angry, and I'll give you three hours instead of two. But I have a
favor to ask of you."
The foreigner at once thrust his hand into his pocket, with such a
natural gesture, that neither the baron nor Pascal could repress a
smile, and he himself understanding the cause of their merriment
broke into a hearty laugh.
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