An elderly foreign gentleman was leaning on his arm, and he led him straight up to the host, and introduced him.
"Friend Kecskerey--Monsieur Griffard, the banker." Fresh bowings and scrapings and shaking of hands.
"Pardon me, honoured host, for my indecent haste in introducing among the _elite_ of your distinguished guests as if he were a bosom friend, such a cosmopolitan celebrity, who, only this very hour, has unexpectedly arrived here from Paris." Oh, as for that, Mr.Kecskerey, so far from granting his pardon, expressed himself obliged and gratified a thousand times over at having been afforded the felicity of an introduction to such a distinguished personage.

And all this took place with as much solemnity as if Abellino was not in reality the host of the evening, and as if everybody did not know it! As a matter of fact, the worthy banker had come all the way from Paris (and there was no railway communication between the two places then, remember) on purpose to convince himself with his own eyes, whether the old Nabob, on whose skin he had staked such a pile of money, was really going to die or not?
Mr.Kecskerey lavished his most delicate attentions upon the eminent stranger, conducting him into the society of the most charming women, his principal object therein being to relieve Abellino of this incubus.
As for Abellino, he withdrew, meanwhile, with a few young bucks of his own age, into the card-room, where he was likely to pass the time most agreeably until the arrival of Fanny.
A good many people were already seated round the green table, amongst them being Abellino's rival, Fennimore, at the sight of whom Abellino burst into a noisy impertinent laugh.
"Ah, Fennimore!" cried he.

"You certainly ought to have mighty good luck at cards to-day, for, so far as love is concerned, everything is going against you.

Diable! you will have to win a jolly lot, for you've lost a thousand ducats to me already.

You laid a wager that I would not win the girl, eh?
You shall see presently.