the one regarding the croupiers of the other
as men quite of an inferior class, I will give
precedence to trente et quarante in this
narrative.  I sit down on a sofa ten minutes
before the hour at which that game
commences in the evening, and observe what
follows.

Firstly, there enters, in the livery of the
administration, a servant, carrying with
difficulty—for it is very heavy—a square,
brass-bound, mahogany box, secured with
three locks.  The box looks like a large and
rather shabby dressing-case.  It contains
money.  Closely following the box there
marches in a little man, jovial of aspect,
respectably dressed in black, with his neck
slightly bowed as if under the weight of his
great watch chain: this is the cashier.  The
three locks having been unfastened, and the
contents of the box poured out upon the
table, the treasurer proceeds, with a dexterity
of fingers only to be acquired by long
familiarity with rouleaus and pieces of five
francs, to arrange the bank in a form
admirably calculated for the easy reckoning of
the amount by the gaming-master.  That
individual, who next makes his appearance,
runs rapidly over the heavy squares of five-
franc pieces, detached divisions of rouleaus,
and reserve battalions of bank-notes, touching
each separate mass as he counts it with a
precision truly extraordinary.  This important
review over, the whole disposable force
is rearranged, in the manner most convenient
for disbursing, in front of the four places
occupied by the croupiers.  The four croupiers
then sit down, each brandishing his rake, and
several plain, white-backed packs of cards
made into one large pack, are placed before
them.  So they sit, like four black spiders in
the middle of a large green web, quietly
waiting for the flies to come to them.

It is worthy of remark, that hardly any of
the players come to the table thus spread for
them with anything like an air of determination
to engage in play.  They generally
lounge towards it in a state of abstraction;
and then, after staring vacantly about them
for a few seconds, drop into a seat, as if with
a complete unconsciousness of what they
are about.  When once seated, however,
their hesitation usually vanishes, and they
arrange their cards for pricking the different
events of red and black in a business-like
way.  Everything being settled, the senior
croupier, or, as he is commonly called, the
dealer, after offering the entire mass of cards
to be cut by some one of the players—
generally a lady, if there is one seated at the
table—proceeds to deal two lines of cards
upon a prepared leather surface just before
him.  The first line is dealt for the black,
and the second for the red.

The object sought is, in each colour, a
chance succession of cards making as near
thirty, but over it, as possible.  Thus, if the
first line of cards, which are, irrespective of
their individual colour, dealt to represent the
colour black, should consist of three tens
and an ace, three court cards and an ace, or
any other combination of numbers that
together make up the sum of thirty-one, the
black will assuredly win; unless the second
line of cards, dealt to represent the colour
red, should be composed also of thirty-one
points; in which case, the coup, or event,
becomes what is called a trente et un après
—or thirty-one repeated.  Now, this is the
particular event fixed upon by the proprietors
of the bank as that which shall afford them
the advantage they take over the players to
ensure their profit in the undertaking.  This
advantage is as follows: on the occasion of
trente et un après, no money previously
staked upon the table can be withdrawn by
a player without the permission of the bank,
the price of which favour is half the amount
staked, whatever it may be.  Should the
player not choose to divide his stake with the
bank, it is what is termed imprisoned until
after the next deal, when the money upon
the winning colour is not paid as it would be
under ordinary circumstances, but merely set
free, so that the owners are at liberty to take
it if they please; whilst, on the other hand,
the money staked upon the other colour is
all taken by the bank.  This advantage of
picking up gains on one side without being
responsible for losses on the other, is calculated
to be worth to the bank half the amount
of all money staked at the moment when a
trente et un après occurs.

At the first glance it would appear that
the circumstance of both lines of cards forming
each thirty-one at the same deal, could
not frequently occur: experience, however,
proves that the average frequency of its
occurrence is about once in every thirty-eight deals.
Now, the game of trente et quarante is
played at three separate times or sittings
every day, for a period of two hours at each
sitting.  There are four packs dealt every
hour, and twenty-nine deals in each pack.
Thus, during every two hours of play, trente
et un après occurs, on the average, six times,
or eighteen times a-day.  So many times
a-day the bank picks up without risk half
the money staked upon the table.  It has
also, generally, a more than equal chance of
beating its antagonists on the ordinary events
of the game, by virtue of its superior
nonchalance, experience, and capital.  One of the
greatest advantages possessed by the bank
over ordinary players, consists in the
unmoved placidity with which it wins or loses.
The croupiers, being simply paid servants
of the company, and having very little or no
personal interest in the result of each deal—
though at Spürt it is whispered to the contrary
—perform their duty of paying and
receiving with the utmost unconcern; in
fact, as nearly after the manner of automatons
as possible.

The bank at Spürt is not courageous.