V. page 20
 A kind of game long since out of fashion, and now almost
forgotten; it seems to have been a compound of Loo and Commerce--
the _Quinola_ or _Pam_ was the knave of hearts.
`He was so good as to say I was a partner in his play, by
which I got a very convenient and agreeable place. I saluted the
king in the way you taught me, which he returned as if I had been
young and handsome--I received a thousand compliments--you know
what it is to have a word from everybody! This agreeable
confusion without confusion lasts from three o'clock till six.
If a courtier arrives, the king retires for a moment to read his
letters, and returns immediately. There is always some music
going on, which has a very good effect; the king listens to the
music and chats to the ladies about him. At last, at six
o'clock, they stop playing--they have no trouble in settling
their reckonings--there are no counters--the lowest pools are
five, six, seven hundred louis, the great ones a thousand, or
twelve hundred; they put in five each at first, that makes one
hundred, and the dealer puts in ten more--then they give four
louis each to whoever has Quinola--some pass, others play, but
when you play without winning the pool, you must put in sixteen
to teach you how to play rashly: they talk all together, and for
ever, and of everything. "How many hearts?" "Two!"
have three!" "I have one!" "I have four!" "He
only three!" and Dangeau, delighted with all this prattle, turns
up the trump, makes his calculations, sees whom he has against
him, in short--in short, I was glad to see such an excess of
skill. He it is who really knows "le dessous des cartes."
`At ten o'clock they get into their carriages: _THE KING, MADAME
DE MONTESPAN_, the Duke of Orleans, and Madame de Thianges, and
the good Hendicourt on the dickey, that is as if one were in the
upper gallery. You know how these calashes are made.