Each of these urns contained ten numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 0, representing the units, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands of the number one million.

There was no seventh urn, for the million column, because it had been agreed that six ciphers drawn simultaneously should represent one million, as in this way the chances of success would be equally divided among all the numbers.
It had also been settled that the numbers should be drawn in succession from the urns, beginning with that to the left of the audience.

The winning number would thus be formed under the very eyes of the spectators, first by the figure in the column of hundreds of thousands, then in the columns of tens of thousands, and so on until the column of units was reached, and the reader can judge with what emotion each person watched his chances of success increase with the drawing of each figure.
As the clock struck three, the president waved his hand, and declared the drawing begun.
The prolonged murmur that greeted the announcement lasted several minutes, after which quiet was gradually established.
The president rose, and though evidently much excited, made a short speech suited to the occasion, in which he expressed regret that there was not a prize for each ticket-holder; then he ordered the drawing of the first series of prizes, which consisted, as we have before remarked, of ninety prizes, and which would therefore consume a considerable length of time.
The six little girls began to perform their duties with automaton-like regularity, but the audience did not lose patience for an instant.

It is true, however, that as the value of the prizes increased with each drawing, the excitement increased proportionately, and no one thought of leaving his seat, not even those persons whose tickets had been already drawn, and who had consequently nothing more to expect.
This went on for about an hour without producing any incident of particular interest, though people noticed that number 9672 had not been drawn, which would have taken away all chance of its winning the capital prize.
"That is a good omen for Sandgoist!" remarked one of the professor's neighbors.
"It would certainly be an extraordinary thing if a man like that should meet with such a piece of good luck, even though he has the famous ticket," remarked another.
"A famous ticket, indeed!" replied Sylvius Hogg; "but don't ask me why, for I can't possibly tell you." Then began the drawing of the second series of prizes, nine in number.
This promised to be very interesting--the ninety-first prize being one of a thousand marks; the ninety-second, one of two thousand marks, and so on, up to the ninety-ninth, which was one of nine thousand.

The third class, the reader must recollect, consisted of the capital prize only.
Number 72,521 won a prize of five thousand marks.