"
Pause, ten seconds.
"Le jeu est fait, messieu.
Pause, two seconds.
"Rien ne va plus."
The _tailleur_ dealt, and the croupier intoned, "La'! Rouge gagne et
couleur perd:" the mechanical raking and dexterous chucking followed.
This, with a low buzzing, and the deadened jingle of gold upon green
cloth, and the light grating of the croupiers' rakes, was the first
impression upon Zoe's senses; but the mere game did not monopolize her
attention many seconds. There were other things better worth noting: the
great varieties of human type that a single passion had brought together
in a small German town. Her ear was regaled with such a polyglot murmur
as she had read of in Genesis, but had never witnessed before.
Here were the sharp Tuscan and the mellow Roman; the sibilation of
England, the brogue of Ireland, the shibboleth of the Minories, the twang
of certain American States, the guttural expectoration of Germany, the
nasal emphasis of France, and even the modulated Hindoostanee, and the
sonorous Spanish, all mingling.
The types of face were as various as the tongues.
Here were the green-eyed Tartar, the black-eyed Italian, and the
gray-eyed Saxon; faces all cheek-bones, and faces no cheek-bones; the red
Arabian, the fair Dane, and the dark Hindoo.
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