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Updated: May 25, 2025
Then the croupiers first raked in the players' losses with vast expedition; next, the croupiers in charge of the funds chucked the precise amount of the winnings on to each stake with unerring dexterity and the indifference of machines; and the chant recommenced, "Faites le jeu, messieu." Pause, ten seconds. "Le jeu est fait, messieu. Pause, two seconds. "Rien ne va plus."
"All 'same," she said, "Messieu Waylan', he telephone Messieu MacDonal' come 'mine help him t'-morrow!" "Telephone my father? Why, how could he? I have been right here, Calamity?" "You go see Missy Villam, leetle gurl," explained Calamity. "Messieu Waylan' he ride down hog back trail woods all night, 'lone! He ring ting ling says he go 'samin mine."
Messieu MacDonal' He help me! I help heem! I go see," and before Eleanor had grasped the import of the words, the woman had darted out into the dark; and a moment later, Eleanor heard the basement door clang.
Playing many hours every day in the year but Good-Friday, and always with other people's money, these men had parted with passion, and almost with sensation; they had become skillful automata, chanting a stave, and raking up or scattering hay-cocks of gold, which to them were counters. It was with the monotonous voice of an automaton they intoned: "Faites le jeu, messieu, messieu."
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