DOI issue:
November 12, 1892
DOI Page / Citation link: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0222
Novembeb 12, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 217
Mr. C. We really ought to be dancing—but I'll try my luck
once more on No. 4. I shall put on two francs this time.
Miss D. Shall you ? How reckless! I heard someone say just
now that No. 1 hasn't won for a long time.
Mr, C. I took your advice once too often< There—4 's going to
win—see how he 's going rotind—no, he 's passed.
[_A horse ivith a yellow flag, labelled No. 1, stops close to the post.
Croupier. L'As, impair, etjaune!
Miss D. Didn't I tell you so ?
Mr. C. You only said 1 hadn't won— not that he would. If you
had spoken more plainly-! I don't think much of this game—
I've dropped four francs already. How about that dance ?
Miss I), [ironically). It would be rather a pity to go away without
getting all that money back, wouldn't it ?
Mr. C. {seriously). Perhaps it would. You're sure yofi're in no
hurry about this dance ?
Miss D. On the contrary !
Mr. C. Well, look here, I'm going to put on' a five-franc piece
THE GAME OF THE LITTLE HORSES.
(A Sketch at the Casino, Dinard.)
On either side of the circular Race-course, with its revolving metal
horses, is a Green Table, divided into numbered squares, around
which the Players, who are mostly English, are sitting or stand-
ing. A Croupier with his rake presides at each table. In an
obscure corner of the balcony outside, Miss Dainteee and her
Married Sister have just established themselves. There is a Ball
at the Casino, and the Orchestra are heard tuning up for the
next dance.
The Married Sister. But Sylvia, why have you dragged_ me out
here to sit in the dark ? I thought you were engaged for this ?
Miss Daintree. So I am—to such a horrid little man. That's why
I fled. He won't think of coming here after me !
The M. S. What made you give him a dance at all ?
Miss D. Jack brought him up to me—so naturally I thought he
was a dear friend of his, but it seems he only sat next to him at table
d'hote, and Jack says he pestered him so for an introduction, he had this time—so be careful what you advise,
to do it—to get rid of him. So like a brother, wasn't it ? . . . Oh, Miss D. Oh, I really couldn't undertake such a responsibility.
Amy, he's coming—what shall I do P I know he ,, u mwi , i«, 1/ ih , ,i j ., Mr. C. I shall follow this man then, and back
can't dance a little bit! I watched him trying. MH^-' ' ' five. {He does; the horses spin round, and the
The M. S. Can't vou ask him to sit it out ? i \\\\ I jjijjl'!, mBSu^fM^w > race ™ won a horse with a tricoloured -flag
MissD. That's worse! Let's hope he won't [!('/ / IjkfHBMfVIII labelled No. £.) There, I've done it without
notice us.—Ah—he has! \\ "i J11' M|k you, you see. [The Croupier pushes a heap of
[Mr. Cubson, a podgy young man with small ;'j | ; ; : .j'.jr Ij^tf "^w.r ''l' f j ivory counters towards him, which he takes up
eyes (i)id a scrubby moustache, wearing a tail- I '• SmUw^^^ ' with trembling hands.) I say, I scooped in
less evening-coat and a wrinkled white waist- ; :f H thirty-five francs over that! Not bad, is it?
coat, advances. f1/; ::' j JHlflf ^CTlT W I'm glad I waited !
Mr. Cubson. Our dance, I believe? [The \ I HMmp ^ ml''. \ Miss J). Yes, it's better fun than dancing,
Orchestra strikes tip.) Isn't that the Pas de 1 '-:I flBjffi^m''',\\ isn't it ?
Quatref To tell you the truth, I'm not very I1 fij(HBSflL i> \m\ C. Oh, lots—at least I didn't mean that
well up in these new steps, so I shall trust to you fSMuBS^^iS'}-' •• ||fjf*lf> j quite-
to pull me through—soon get into it, y'know. flHRQHffl^r /SPm ■'■ Miss j). Didn't you? J did. What are you
Miss J). (to herself). If I could only get out j //? \\ going to back next ?
of it! (She rises with a look of unite appeal to '^^m^BsiitS l^&#\ \ Jfr. C. Well, I must just have one more turn,
her Sister.) We can go through this room. ' ^B^m^m^^^UB^^^k, and then we'11 go and get that dance over. I'm
('They pass into the Salle des Petits Chevaux.) \ \^^^0v^SBM^^mF^ going to plunge this time. (He spreads his
Stop one minute—I just want to see which horse t^BmBp^W^m^} counters about the board.) There, I've put live
wins. Don't you call this a fascinating game ? ^SBBBSkUWuSBL francs on each colour and ten each on 8 and 9.
Mr. C. Well, I don't understand the way ^^H^»Bs//H™M1^S ^ou see, by hedging like that, you 're bound to
they play it here—too complicated for me, you ,■ , \ K illifflfflii^ffill^P I™-^ °^ something
know! |1'' nHHM k^pfWiF Miss I). (as the horses spin round). All the
Miss D. (to herself). Anything to gain time ! ' ! HgHHU HflnEDt. yellow flags are out of it.
(Aloud.) Oh, it's quite simple—you just put i i ; ■ Ijjjffllfflrfl IflKMiwM Mr. C. Doesn't matter, 9 's red, and he's
your money down on any number you choose, jM, «HHm|MHHyHi||^ goina: first-rate—nothing to beat him !
and say " Sur le"—whatever it is, and, if it 'jjjj! nHlIIjf/1 IHffifflSfp Miss D. Unless it's 5, and then you lose,
wins, you get seven times your stake. H MHHjijur ^^Smllk (No. 5 wins again.) ITow unfortunate for you.
Croupier. Tous sont payes—faites vos jeux, M^fflf/fl ^^^wf'iffl ^ generally docs win twice running, some-
Messieurs,—les jeux sont partis! MfflSifff t y^^mmn how.
3Iiss j). I know what I should do—I should i-^'^lf iMBkM ^' (w^1 reproach). If you had thought of
hack 7 this time. I've a presentiment he '11 win. BHMH I^MmM that a little sooner, I shouldn't have lost twenty
Mr. C. Then why don't you hack him ? ■Hnl mBSBKj francs ! ( A player rises, and Mr. C. secures the
Miss I). Because I don't happen to have HHK fluD vacant chair.) More comfortable sitting down,
brought any money with me. VHfflj|Mi A&^flH I must get that back before I go. I've got
Mr. C. Oh, I daresay I can accommodate you Hmfli ^^^S t^v\ a^out twenty francs left. I'll put five on
with a franc or two, if that's all. 8BU|w (fflMffly j yellow, and ten on 9. (He does. Croupier.
Miss I). Thank you, I won't trouble you : but ^^^Sl /P"'J$T "Deux, pair, et rouge !") Only five left! I'll
do back him yourself, just to see if I'm not right. ■HwSu\ W^m^ back yellow again, as red won last. (He does.
Croupier. Les jeux sont faits. Bien ne va ^==J»wffl fUsBllifiSite' Croupier. " Quatre, pair, et rouge 1" He tarns
plus! ~" ^"^^ffiHgT ^™' to Miss D.for sympathy.) I say, did you ever
Mr. C. (throwing a franc on the table). Sur le "^i^gja see such beastly bad-?
sept! (To Miss D.) I say, he's raked it in. . _ , Tw s Frenchman (behind him). Plait-il?
What's that for ? " 0ur dlim'°> 1 believe? Mr. C. (confused). Oh, rien. I wasn't speak.
Miss D. For the Bank, or Charity, or something—they always do
that if you stake too late
Mr. C. Swindle, J call it. And I should have won, too—it is 7.
I've had. enough of this—suppose we go and dance ?
Miss D. Why, you're not going to give in already—after so
nearly winning, too ?
Mr. C. Ah, weU, I'11 have just one more go—and then we'll be
off. I'm going to try the 9 this time. \He stakes.
Miss D. I should have gone on the 4—it's time one of the even
numbers won again.
Mr. C. Oh, would you? All right, then. (To Cr.) Pas sur le
neuf—le quatre. (The Croupier transfers the franc to 4.) They're
off—can't tell the winner yet. Now they're slower—4's good—
4's very good. See where he 's stopped, not an inch from the post!
This isn't half a bad game.
[Ahorse ivith a red flag at his head,'labelled No. 9, creeps
slowly up, and stops just ahead of 4.
Croupier. Neuf, impair, et rouge !
Mr. C. It's 9 after all—and I backed him first. (In an injured
tone.) I should have won if you hadn't said that about 4!
Miss D. (with secret delight). I won't advise any more What
are you going to back ?
ing to you, M'soo. (To himself.) Where on earth has that girl
got to ? She might have waited ! She's gone back to the balcony !
(He goes out in pursuit of her.) Oh, I say, Miss—er—Daintree, if
you're ready for that " Pas de Quatre" I am. Hope I haven't
kept you waiting.
MissD. (sweetly). Not .in the very least. Are you sure you've
quite finished playing ?
Mr. C. As I've lost all I'd won and a lot on the top of that, I
should rather think I had finished playing.
Miss D. So has the Orchestra—quite a coincidence, isn't it ? You
were so absorbed, you see!—No, I won't keep you "out here, thanks;
my sister will take care of me.
Mr. C. (to himself, as he departs rather sheepishly). I 'reoffended
that girl—I could see she was wild at missing that Barn Dance. I
wish I had danced it, I'm sure,—it would have saved me several
francs. It was all her own fault. However, I '11 ask her for a waltz
anothor evening, and make it up to her that way. Confound those
Petits Chevaux .'
3Iiss D. Amy, he's gone,—and I haven't danced and I haven't sat
out with him—and he can't say it's my fault either! (She kisses
her hand to the Petits Chevaux inside.) Thanks, ever so much, you
dear little beasts!
vot. cm.
u
Mr. C. We really ought to be dancing—but I'll try my luck
once more on No. 4. I shall put on two francs this time.
Miss D. Shall you ? How reckless! I heard someone say just
now that No. 1 hasn't won for a long time.
Mr, C. I took your advice once too often< There—4 's going to
win—see how he 's going rotind—no, he 's passed.
[_A horse ivith a yellow flag, labelled No. 1, stops close to the post.
Croupier. L'As, impair, etjaune!
Miss D. Didn't I tell you so ?
Mr. C. You only said 1 hadn't won— not that he would. If you
had spoken more plainly-! I don't think much of this game—
I've dropped four francs already. How about that dance ?
Miss I), [ironically). It would be rather a pity to go away without
getting all that money back, wouldn't it ?
Mr. C. {seriously). Perhaps it would. You're sure yofi're in no
hurry about this dance ?
Miss D. On the contrary !
Mr. C. Well, look here, I'm going to put on' a five-franc piece
THE GAME OF THE LITTLE HORSES.
(A Sketch at the Casino, Dinard.)
On either side of the circular Race-course, with its revolving metal
horses, is a Green Table, divided into numbered squares, around
which the Players, who are mostly English, are sitting or stand-
ing. A Croupier with his rake presides at each table. In an
obscure corner of the balcony outside, Miss Dainteee and her
Married Sister have just established themselves. There is a Ball
at the Casino, and the Orchestra are heard tuning up for the
next dance.
The Married Sister. But Sylvia, why have you dragged_ me out
here to sit in the dark ? I thought you were engaged for this ?
Miss Daintree. So I am—to such a horrid little man. That's why
I fled. He won't think of coming here after me !
The M. S. What made you give him a dance at all ?
Miss D. Jack brought him up to me—so naturally I thought he
was a dear friend of his, but it seems he only sat next to him at table
d'hote, and Jack says he pestered him so for an introduction, he had this time—so be careful what you advise,
to do it—to get rid of him. So like a brother, wasn't it ? . . . Oh, Miss D. Oh, I really couldn't undertake such a responsibility.
Amy, he's coming—what shall I do P I know he ,, u mwi , i«, 1/ ih , ,i j ., Mr. C. I shall follow this man then, and back
can't dance a little bit! I watched him trying. MH^-' ' ' five. {He does; the horses spin round, and the
The M. S. Can't vou ask him to sit it out ? i \\\\ I jjijjl'!, mBSu^fM^w > race ™ won a horse with a tricoloured -flag
MissD. That's worse! Let's hope he won't [!('/ / IjkfHBMfVIII labelled No. £.) There, I've done it without
notice us.—Ah—he has! \\ "i J11' M|k you, you see. [The Croupier pushes a heap of
[Mr. Cubson, a podgy young man with small ;'j | ; ; : .j'.jr Ij^tf "^w.r ''l' f j ivory counters towards him, which he takes up
eyes (i)id a scrubby moustache, wearing a tail- I '• SmUw^^^ ' with trembling hands.) I say, I scooped in
less evening-coat and a wrinkled white waist- ; :f H thirty-five francs over that! Not bad, is it?
coat, advances. f1/; ::' j JHlflf ^CTlT W I'm glad I waited !
Mr. Cubson. Our dance, I believe? [The \ I HMmp ^ ml''. \ Miss J). Yes, it's better fun than dancing,
Orchestra strikes tip.) Isn't that the Pas de 1 '-:I flBjffi^m''',\\ isn't it ?
Quatref To tell you the truth, I'm not very I1 fij(HBSflL i> \m\ C. Oh, lots—at least I didn't mean that
well up in these new steps, so I shall trust to you fSMuBS^^iS'}-' •• ||fjf*lf> j quite-
to pull me through—soon get into it, y'know. flHRQHffl^r /SPm ■'■ Miss j). Didn't you? J did. What are you
Miss J). (to herself). If I could only get out j //? \\ going to back next ?
of it! (She rises with a look of unite appeal to '^^m^BsiitS l^&#\ \ Jfr. C. Well, I must just have one more turn,
her Sister.) We can go through this room. ' ^B^m^m^^^UB^^^k, and then we'11 go and get that dance over. I'm
('They pass into the Salle des Petits Chevaux.) \ \^^^0v^SBM^^mF^ going to plunge this time. (He spreads his
Stop one minute—I just want to see which horse t^BmBp^W^m^} counters about the board.) There, I've put live
wins. Don't you call this a fascinating game ? ^SBBBSkUWuSBL francs on each colour and ten each on 8 and 9.
Mr. C. Well, I don't understand the way ^^H^»Bs//H™M1^S ^ou see, by hedging like that, you 're bound to
they play it here—too complicated for me, you ,■ , \ K illifflfflii^ffill^P I™-^ °^ something
know! |1'' nHHM k^pfWiF Miss I). (as the horses spin round). All the
Miss D. (to herself). Anything to gain time ! ' ! HgHHU HflnEDt. yellow flags are out of it.
(Aloud.) Oh, it's quite simple—you just put i i ; ■ Ijjjffllfflrfl IflKMiwM Mr. C. Doesn't matter, 9 's red, and he's
your money down on any number you choose, jM, «HHm|MHHyHi||^ goina: first-rate—nothing to beat him !
and say " Sur le"—whatever it is, and, if it 'jjjj! nHlIIjf/1 IHffifflSfp Miss D. Unless it's 5, and then you lose,
wins, you get seven times your stake. H MHHjijur ^^Smllk (No. 5 wins again.) ITow unfortunate for you.
Croupier. Tous sont payes—faites vos jeux, M^fflf/fl ^^^wf'iffl ^ generally docs win twice running, some-
Messieurs,—les jeux sont partis! MfflSifff t y^^mmn how.
3Iiss j). I know what I should do—I should i-^'^lf iMBkM ^' (w^1 reproach). If you had thought of
hack 7 this time. I've a presentiment he '11 win. BHMH I^MmM that a little sooner, I shouldn't have lost twenty
Mr. C. Then why don't you hack him ? ■Hnl mBSBKj francs ! ( A player rises, and Mr. C. secures the
Miss I). Because I don't happen to have HHK fluD vacant chair.) More comfortable sitting down,
brought any money with me. VHfflj|Mi A&^flH I must get that back before I go. I've got
Mr. C. Oh, I daresay I can accommodate you Hmfli ^^^S t^v\ a^out twenty francs left. I'll put five on
with a franc or two, if that's all. 8BU|w (fflMffly j yellow, and ten on 9. (He does. Croupier.
Miss I). Thank you, I won't trouble you : but ^^^Sl /P"'J$T "Deux, pair, et rouge !") Only five left! I'll
do back him yourself, just to see if I'm not right. ■HwSu\ W^m^ back yellow again, as red won last. (He does.
Croupier. Les jeux sont faits. Bien ne va ^==J»wffl fUsBllifiSite' Croupier. " Quatre, pair, et rouge 1" He tarns
plus! ~" ^"^^ffiHgT ^™' to Miss D.for sympathy.) I say, did you ever
Mr. C. (throwing a franc on the table). Sur le "^i^gja see such beastly bad-?
sept! (To Miss D.) I say, he's raked it in. . _ , Tw s Frenchman (behind him). Plait-il?
What's that for ? " 0ur dlim'°> 1 believe? Mr. C. (confused). Oh, rien. I wasn't speak.
Miss D. For the Bank, or Charity, or something—they always do
that if you stake too late
Mr. C. Swindle, J call it. And I should have won, too—it is 7.
I've had. enough of this—suppose we go and dance ?
Miss D. Why, you're not going to give in already—after so
nearly winning, too ?
Mr. C. Ah, weU, I'11 have just one more go—and then we'll be
off. I'm going to try the 9 this time. \He stakes.
Miss D. I should have gone on the 4—it's time one of the even
numbers won again.
Mr. C. Oh, would you? All right, then. (To Cr.) Pas sur le
neuf—le quatre. (The Croupier transfers the franc to 4.) They're
off—can't tell the winner yet. Now they're slower—4's good—
4's very good. See where he 's stopped, not an inch from the post!
This isn't half a bad game.
[Ahorse ivith a red flag at his head,'labelled No. 9, creeps
slowly up, and stops just ahead of 4.
Croupier. Neuf, impair, et rouge !
Mr. C. It's 9 after all—and I backed him first. (In an injured
tone.) I should have won if you hadn't said that about 4!
Miss D. (with secret delight). I won't advise any more What
are you going to back ?
ing to you, M'soo. (To himself.) Where on earth has that girl
got to ? She might have waited ! She's gone back to the balcony !
(He goes out in pursuit of her.) Oh, I say, Miss—er—Daintree, if
you're ready for that " Pas de Quatre" I am. Hope I haven't
kept you waiting.
MissD. (sweetly). Not .in the very least. Are you sure you've
quite finished playing ?
Mr. C. As I've lost all I'd won and a lot on the top of that, I
should rather think I had finished playing.
Miss D. So has the Orchestra—quite a coincidence, isn't it ? You
were so absorbed, you see!—No, I won't keep you "out here, thanks;
my sister will take care of me.
Mr. C. (to himself, as he departs rather sheepishly). I 'reoffended
that girl—I could see she was wild at missing that Barn Dance. I
wish I had danced it, I'm sure,—it would have saved me several
francs. It was all her own fault. However, I '11 ask her for a waltz
anothor evening, and make it up to her that way. Confound those
Petits Chevaux .'
3Iiss D. Amy, he's gone,—and I haven't danced and I haven't sat
out with him—and he can't say it's my fault either! (She kisses
her hand to the Petits Chevaux inside.) Thanks, ever so much, you
dear little beasts!
vot. cm.
u