He is struck by the Countess's personal appearance, in which beauties and defects are fantastically mingled in the most attractive manner.

He watches the Countess's game, and places his money where he sees her deposit her own little stake.

She looks round at him, and says, "Don't trust to my colour; I have been unlucky the whole evening.

Place your stake on the other colour, and you may have a chance of winning." My Lord (a true Englishman) blushes, bows, and obeys.

The Countess proves to be a prophet.