A woman on the other side of Emilie rose. She was small and very old and she seemed to stumble a little so that instinctively Mistral put out a hand to help her.

Thank you, my dear, you are very kind,’ she said, speaking French with a foreign accent. ‘Let me take your arm – I would be grateful if you will help me to the door. It is difficult for me to see.’

Mistral offered her arm and, as she did so, she was aware that the little woman was almost blinded by the tears in her eyes.

‘Oh, you are unhappy!’ Mistral exclaimed.

‘Yes, I am unhappy,’ the woman answered, ‘because I have lost! I have lost all my money! Always it is the same, I lose, yes, lose everything.’

But that is terrible,’ Mistral said. ‘What will you do?’ ‘I will go home, my dear. You are kind to help me.’

The tone of the old lady’s voice was piteous and Mistral felt her heart contract at so much suffering.

Slowly, with the blue veined, withered hand trembling on Mistral’s arm, they reached the outside door. By now the tears were running down the wrinkled cheeks, though the old lady made no attempt to wipe them away.

But I cannot let you go like this, Madame,’ Mistral said. ‘It is so terrible for you to lose everything. What will you do?’

But before she was answered, a liveried footman who was waiting outside the open door of the Casino came forward.

‘The carriage is here, Madame,’ he said.

There is someone to take you home then?’ Mistral said in relief.

She had half expected that, having no money, the poor old lady would have to walk destitute in the street.

‘Yes, but I have to go home,’ the old lady said. ‘I have lost everything! How unhappy I am!’

‘Please do not cry!’ Mistral pleaded, wondering if she dared wipe the tears from the old woman’s face.

But before she could do so, there was the sound of horses’ hoofs outside, a carriage drew up at the door, a footman hurried forward to offer the old lady his arm.

‘Thank you, my dear, thank you,’ she said to Mistral. ‘You have been very kind.’

She let the footman help her down the steps, the tears still filling her eyes, and then, as she watched her go, Mistral was startled by a voice from behind her.

‘Surely you are not leaving?’ someone asked.

Mistral turned swiftly to find Sir Robert at her side.

‘No, I am not leaving, but that poor old woman, she has lost everything. What can one do to help her?’

Sir Robert smiled.

‘You need not distress yourself unduly. That is Countess Kisselev. She is an habitué here. She comes regularly for the winter months. She gambles so unrestrainedly that her grandsons allow her only so many louis a day and when she has lost them she has to go home.’