I was not sorry when I heard the following morning that my mother would
not appear before dinner-hour. I dreaded the chance of any allusion to
Miss Bellow's name requiring explanation on my part; and the more so,
as I myself was utterly lost in conjectures as to the reason of her
singular reception of me.
Julia, too, appeared more out of spirits than usual She pleaded fatigue;
but I could see that something lay heavily on her mind. She conversed
with evident effort, and seemed to have a difficulty in recalling her
faculties to the ordinary topics of the day. A thought struck me that
perhaps De Vere's conduct might have given cause for her depression;
and gradually I drew the conversation to the mention of his name, when I
soon became undeceived on this point. She told me with perfect unconcern
how my father had tracked out the whole line of his duplicity and
calumny regarding me, and had followed the matter up by a representation
to the duke at the head of the army, who immediately commanded his
retirement from the Guards. Later on, his family influence had obtained
his appointment as _attaché_ to the embassy at Paris; but since their
first rupture he had discontinued his visits, and now had ceased to be
acknowledged by them when they met.
My cousin's melancholy not being then attributable to anything connected
with De Vere, I set myself to work to ascertain whence it proceeded; and
suddenly the thought struck me that perhaps my mother's surmise might
have some foundation, and that Julia, feeling an affection for me, might
have been hurt at my evident want of attention towards her since we met.
I have already begged of my reader to separate such suspicions from the
coxcombry of the lady-killer, who deems every girl he meets his victim.
If I did for a moment imagine that my cousin liked me, I did so with a
stronger sense of my own unworthiness to merit her love than if I myself
had sought her affection. I had felt her superiority to myself too early
in life to outlive the memory of it as we grew older. The former feeling
of dread which I entertained of Julia's sarcasm still lived within me,
and I felt keenly that she who knew the weaknesses of the boy was little
likely to forget them in reflecting over the failures of the man; and
thus, if she did care for me, I well knew that her affection must be
checkered by too many doubts and uncertainties to give it that character
of abiding love which alone could bring happiness. I perceived clearly
enough that she disliked O'Grady. Was it, then, that, being interested
for me, she was grieved at my great intimacy with one she herself did
not admire, and who evidently treated her with marked coldness and
reserve?
Harassed with these suspicions, and annoyed that those I had hoped would
regard each other as friends avoided every opportunity of intimacy,
I strolled forth to walk alone, my mind brooding over dark and
disagreeable images, and my brain full of plans all based upon
disappointed hopes and blighted expectations. To my mother's invitation
to dinner for that day O'Grady had returned an apology; he was engaged
to his friend M. Guillemain, with whom he was also to pass the morning;
so that I was absolutely without a companion.
When first I issued from the Place Vendôme, I resolved at all hazards
to wait on the Rooneys, at once to see Miss Bellew, and seek an
explanation, if possible, for her manner towards me. As I hastened on
towards the Chaussée, however, I began to reflect on the impropriety of
such a course, after the evident refusal she had given to any renewal
of acquaintance. 'I did know Mr. Hinton,' were the words she used--words
which, considering all that had passed between us, never could have been
spoken lightly or without reason. A hundred vague conjectures as to
the different ways in which my character and motives might have been
slandered to her occupied me as I sauntered along. De Vere and Burke
were both my enemies, and I had little doubt that with them originated
the calumny from which I now was suffering; and as I turned over in my
thoughts all the former passages of our hatred, I felt how gladly they
would embrace the opportunity of wounding me where the injury would
prove the keenest.
Without knowing it, I had actually reached the street where the Rooneys
lived, and was within a few paces of their house. Strangely enough, the
same scene I had so often smiled at before their house in Dublin was now
enacting here--the great difference being, that instead of the lounging
subs, of marching regiments, the swaggering cornets of dragoons, the
overdressed and underbred crowds of would-be fashionables who then
congregated before the windows or curvetted beneath the balcony, were
now the generals of every foreign service, field-marshals glittering
with orders, powdered diplomatists, cordoned political writers, savants
from every country in Europe, and idlers whose _bons mots_ and smart
sayings were the delight of every dinner-table in the capital; all happy
to have some neutral ground where the outposts of politics might be
surveyed without compromise or danger, and where, amid the excellences
of the table and the pleasures of society, intrigues could be fathomed
or invented under the auspices of that excellent attorney's wife, who
deemed herself meanwhile the great attraction of her courtly visitors
and titled guests.
As I drew near the house I scarcely ventured to look towards the
balcony, in which a number of well-dressed persons were now standing
chatting together. One voice I soon recognised, and its every accent cut
my very heart as I listened. It was Lord Dudley de Vere, talking in his
usual tone of loud assumption. I could hear the same vacant laugh
which had so often offended me; and I actually dreaded lest some chance
allusion to myself might reach me where I stood. There must be something
intensely powerful in the influence of the human voice, when its very
cadence alone can elevate to rapture or sting to madness. Who has not
felt the ecstasy of some one brief word from 'lips beloved,' after long
years of absence; and who has not experienced the tumultuous conflict
of angry passions that rise unbidden at the mere sound of speaking from
those we like not? My heart burned within me as I thought of her who
doubtless was then among that gay throng, and for whose amusement those
powers of his lordship's wit were in all likelihood called forth; and I
turned away in anger and in sorrow.
As the day wore on I could not face towards home. I felt I dare not meet
the searching questions my mother was certain to ask me; nor could I
endure the thought of mixing with a crowd of strangers, when my own
spirits were hourly sinking. I dined alone at a small _café_ in the
Palais Royal, and sat moodily over my wine till past eleven o'clock. The
stillness of the room startled me at length, and I looked up and found
the tables deserted; a sleepy waiter lounged lazily on a bench, and the
un-trimmed candles and disordered look of everything indicated that no
other guests were then expected.
'Where have they gone to?' said I, curious to know what so suddenly had
taken the crowd away.
'To Frescati's, monsieur,' said the waiter; 'the salon is filling fast
by this time.'
A strange feeling of dislike to being alone had taken hold on me, and
having inquired the way to the Rue Richelieu from the servant, I issued
forth.
What a contrast to the dark and gloomy streets of Paris, with their
irregular pavement, was the brilliantly lighted vestibule, with its
marble pillars and spacious stair rising gracefully beyond it, which met
my eyes as I entered Frescati's! Mingling with the crowd of persons who
pressed their way along, I reached a large antechamber where several
servants in rich liveries received the hats and canes of the visitors
who thronged eagerly forward, their merry voices and gay laughter
resounding through the arched roof.
As the wide doors were thrown open noiselessly, I was quite unprepared
for the splendour of the scene. Here were not only officers of rank in
all the gala of their brilliant uniforms, and civilians in full dress,
shining in stars and decorations, but ladies also, with that perfection
of toilette only known to Parisian women, their graceful figures
scattered through the groups, or promenading slowly up and down,
conversing in a low tone; while servants passed to and fro with
champagne and fruit-ices on massive silver salvers, their noiseless
gesture and quiet demeanour in perfect keeping with the hushed and
tranquil look of all around. As I drew closer to the table I could mark
that the stillness was even more remarkable; not a voice was heard but
of the croupier of the table, as with ceaseless monotony he repeated:
'Faites le jeu, messieurs! Le jeu est fait. Noir perd, et couleur gagne.
Rouge perd, et la couleur----' The rattle of the rake and the chink of
the gold followed, a low muttered 'Sacre!' being the only sound that
mingled with them.
But I could mark, that, although the etiquette of ruin demanded this
unbroken silence, passion worked in every feature there. On one side was
an old man, his filmy eyes shaded by his hand from the strong glare of
wax-lights, peering with eagerness and tremulous from age and excitement
as the cards fell from the banker's hands, his blanched lips muttering
each word after the croupier, and his wasted cheek quivering as the
chances inclined against him. Here was a bold and manly face, flushed
and heated, whose bloodshot eye ranged quickly over the board, while
every now and then some effort to seem calm and smile would cross
the features, and in its working show the dreadful struggle that was
maintained within. And then again a beautiful girl, her dark eye dilated
almost to a look of wild insanity, her lips parted, her cheeks marked
with patches of white and red, and her fair hands clenched, while her
bosom heaved and fell as though some pent-up agony was eating at her
very heart.
At the end of the table was a vacant chair, beside which an officer in
a Prussian uniform was standing, while before him was a small
brass-clasped box. Curious to know what this meant, I turned to see
to which of those about me I might venture to address a question, when
suddenly my curiosity became satisfied without inquiry. A loud voice
talking German with a rough accent, the heavy tramp of a cavalry boot
clanking with large spurs, announced the approach of some one who cared
little for the conventional silence of the rooms; and as the crowd
opened I saw an old man in blue uniform, covered with stars, elbow his
way towards the chair. His eyebrows of shaggy grey almost concealed
his eyes as effectually as his heavy moustache did his mouth. He walked
lame, and leaned on a stick, which, as he took his place in the chair,
he placed unceremoniously on the table before him. The box, which was
opened the moment he sat down, he now drew towards him, and plunging his
hand into it drew forth a handful of napoleons, and, without waiting to
count, he threw on the table, uttering in a thick guttural voice the one
word 'Rouge.' The impassive coldness of the croupier as he pronounced
his habitual exordium seemed to move the old man's impatience, as he
rattled his fingers hurriedly among the gold and muttered some broken
words of German between his teeth. The enormous sum he betted drew
every eye towards his part of the table--of all which he seemed totally
regardless, as he raked in his winnings, or frowned with a heavy
lowering look as often as fortune turned against him. Marshal
Blucher--for it was he--was an impassioned gambler, and needed not the
excitement of the champagne, which he drank eagerly from time to time,
to stimulate his passion for play.
As I turned from the _rouge et noir_ table, I remarked that every now
and then some person left the room by a small door, which, concealed by
a mirror, had escaped my attention when I entered. On inquiry I found
that this passage led to a secret part of the establishment, which only
a certain set of players frequented, and where the tables were kept open
during the entire day and night. Curious to see the interior of this
den of greater iniquity, I presented myself at it, and on opening found
myself in a narrow corridor, where a servant demanded my billet. Having
informed him that I was merely there from motives of curiosity, I
offered him a napoleon, which speedily satisfied his scruples. He
conducted me to the end of the gallery, where, touching a spring, the
door opened, and I found myself in a room considerably smaller than
the salon, and, with the exception of being less brilliantly lighted,
equally splendid in its decorations. Around on all sides were small
partitions, like the cells in a London coffee-house, where tables were
provided for parties to sup at. These were now unoccupied, the greater
attraction of high play having drawn every one around the table, where
the same monotonous sounds of the croupier's voice, the same patter of
the cards, and the same clinking of the gold continued unceasingly. The
silence of the salon was as nothing to the stillness that reigned here.
Not a voice save the banker's was ever heard; each player placed his
money on the red or black square of the table without speaking, and the
massive rouleaus were passed backwards and forwards with no other sound
save the noise of the rake. I remarked, too, that the stakes seemed far
heavier; crumpled rolls of _billets de banque_ were often thrown down,
and from the muffled murmur of the banker I could hear such sums as
'seven thousand francs,' 'ten thousand francs,' called out.
It was some time before I could approach near enough to see the play;
at last I edged my way to the front, and obtained a place behind the
croupier's chair, where a good view of the table was presented to me.
The different nations, with their different costumes, tongues, and
expressions so strangely congregated, were a study that might have
amused me for a long time, had not a chance word of English spoken close
by me drawn off my attention.
Immediately in front, but with their backs towards me, sat two persons,
who seemed, as was often the habit, to play in concert. A large heap of
gold and notes lay before them, and several cards, marked with pin-holes
to chronicle the run of the game, were scattered about. Unable to see
their faces, I was struck by one singular but decisive mark of their
difference in condition and rank. The hands of one were fair and
delicate almost as a woman's--the blue veins circling clearly through
them, and rings of great price and brilliancy glittering on the fingers;
those of the other were coarse, brown-stained, and ill cared for--the
sinewy fingers and strong bony knuckles denoting one accustomed to
laborious exertions. It was strange that two persons, evidently so wide
apart in their walks in life, should be thus associated; and feeling
a greater interest from the chance phrase of English one of them had
dropped, I watched them closely. By degrees I could mark that their
difference in dress was no less conspicuous; for although the more
humble was well and even fashionably attired, he had not the same
distinctive marks which characterised his companion as a person of
class and condition. While I looked, the pile of gold before them had
gradually melted down to some few pieces; and as they bent down their
heads over the cards, and concerted as to their play, it was clear that
by their less frequent ventures they were becoming more cautious.
'No, no I' said he, who seemed to be the superior, 'I'll not risk it.'
'I say yes, yes!' muttered the other, in a deeper voice; 'the _rouge_
can't go on for ever: it has passed eleven times.'
'I know,' said the former bitterly; 'and I have lost seventeen thousand
francs.'
'_You_ have lost!' retorted the other savagely, but in the same low
tone; 'why not _we?_ Am _I_ for nothing in all this?'
'Come, come, Ulick, don't be in a passion!'
The name and the tone of the speaker startled me. I leaned forward;
my very head reeled as I looked. It was Lord Dudley de Vere and Ulick
Burke. The rush of passionate excitement that ran through me for a
minute or two, to be thus thrown beside the two only enemies I had ever
had, unnerved me so far that I could not collect myself. To call them
forth at once, and charge them with their baseness towards me; to dare
them openly, and denounce them before that crowded assembly--was my
first rapid thought. But from this wild thrill of anger I was soon
turned, as Burke's voice, elevated to a tone of passion, called out--
'Hold! I am going to bet!'
The banker stopped; the cards still rested in his hands.
'I say, sir, I will do it,' said Burke, turning to De Vere, whose
cheek was now pale as death, and whose disordered and haggard air was
increased by his having torn off his cravat and opened the collar of his
shirt. '_I_ say I will; do _you_ gainsay me?' continued he, laying on
the words an accent of such contemptuous insolence that even De Vere's
eye fired at it. 'Vingt mille francs, noir,' said Burke, placing his
last billet on the table; and the words were scarce spoken when the
banker cried out--
'Noir perd et passe.'
A horrible curse broke from Burke as he fixed his staring eyeballs on
the outspread cards, and counted over the numbers to himself.
'You see, Burke,' said De Vere.
'Don't speak to me, now, damn you!' said the other, with clenched teeth.
De Vere pushed back his chair, and rising, moved through the crowd
towards an open window. Burke sat with his head buried between his hands
for some seconds, and then starting up at the banker s call, cried out--
'Dix mille, noir!'
A kind of half-suppressed laugh ran round the table at seeing that he
had no funds while he still offered to bet. He threw his eyes upon the
board, and then as quickly turned them on the players. One by one his
dark look was bent on them, as if to search out some victim for his
hate; but all were hushed. Many as reckless as himself were there, many
as utterly ruined, but not one so lost to hope.
'Who laughed?' said he in French, while the thick veins of his forehead
stood out like cordage; and then, as none answered to his challenge, he
rose slowly, still scowling with the malignity of a demon.
'May I have your seat, monsieur?' said a dapper little Frenchman, with a
smile and a bow, as Burke moved away.
'Yes, take it,' said he, as lifting the strong chair with one hand he
dashed it upon the floor, smashing it to pieces with a crash that shook
the room.
The crowd, which made way for him to pass out, as speedily closed again
around the table, where the work of ruin still went forward. Not a
passing glance was turned from the board to look after the beggared
gambler.
The horrible indifference the players had shown to the sufferings of
this wretched man so thoroughly disgusted me that I could no longer bear
even to look on the game. The passion of play had shown itself to me now
in all its most repulsive form, and I turned with abhorrence from the
table.
My mind agitated by a number of emotions, and my heart now swelling with
triumphant vengeance, now filled with pity for the sake of him who had
ruined my fortunes for ever, I sat in one of the small boxes I have
mentioned, which, dimly lighted, had not yet been sought by any of the
players to sup in. A closely drawn curtain separated the little place
I occupied from the adjoining one, where from time to time I heard the
clink of glasses and the noise of champagne corks. At first I supposed
that some other solitary individual had established himself there to
enjoy his winnings or brood over his losses, when at last I could hear
the low muttering of voices, which ere long I recognised as belonging to
Burke and De Vere.
Burke, who evidently from his tone and manner possessed the mastery over
his companion, no longer employed the insulting accents I had witnessed
at the table; on the contrary, he condescended to flatter--affected
to be delighted with De Vere's wit and sharpness, and more than once
insinuated that with such an associate he cared little what tricks
fortune played them, as, to use his own phrase, 'they were sure to come
round.'
De Vere's voice, which I could only hear at rare intervals, told that
he had drunk deeply, and that between wine and his losses a kind of
reckless desperation had seized him, which gave to his manner and words
a semblance of boldness which his real character lacked completely.
When I knew that Burke and De Vere were the persons near me, I rose
to leave the spot; the fear of playing the eavesdropper forbade my
remaining. But as I stood up, the mention of my name, uttered in a tone
of vengeance by Burke, startled me, and I listened.
'Yes,' said he, striking his hand upon the table, and confirming his
assertion with a horrible oath. 'Yes; for him and through him my uncle
left me a beggar. But already I have had my revenge; though it shan't
end there.'
'You don't mean to have him out again? Confound him, he's a devilish
good shot; winged you already--eh?'
Burke, unmindful of the interruption, continued--
'It was I that told my uncle how this fellow was the nephew of the man
who seduced his own wife. I worked upon the old man so that he
left house and home, and wandered through the country, till mental
irritation, acting on a broken frame, became fever, and then death.'
'Died--eh? Glorious nephew you are, by Jove! What next?'
'I'll tell you. I forged a letter in his handwriting to Louisa, written
as if on his death-bed, commanding as his last prayer that she should
never see Hinton again; or if by any accident they should meet, that she
should not recognise him nor know him.'
'Devilish clever, that; egad, a better martingale than that you invented
a while ago. I say, pass the wine! red fourteen times--wasn't it
fourteen?--and if it had not been for your cursed obstinacy I'd have
backed the red. See, fifty naps! one hundred, four, eight, sixteen,
thirty-four, or six--which is it? Oh, confounded stupidity!'
'Come, come, Dudley! better luck another time. Louisa's eyes must have
been too kindly bent on you, or you 'd have been more fortunate.'
'Eh, you think she likes me?--Capital champagne that!--I always thought
she did from the first. That's what I call walking inside of Hinton. How
he'll look! Ha! ha! ha!'
'Yes, how he'll look!' echoed Burke, endeavouring to join the laugh.
'But now one thing is yet wanting.'
'You mean those despatches,' replied De Vere suddenly. 'You always come
back to that. Well, once for all, I say no!'
'Just hear me, Dudley! Nothing is easier; nothing incurs less risk.'
'Less risk! what do you mean? No risk for me to steal the papers of the
embassy, and give them to you to hand over to that scoundrel at the head
of the secret police? Devilish green I may be, but not so green as that,
Master Burke!'
'Guillemain will give us forty thousand francs. Forty thousand! with
half that, and your luck, De Vere, we'll break every bank in Paris. I
know you don't wish to marry Louisa.'
'No; hang it, that's always the wind-up. Keep that for the last throw,
eh?--There's heavy play there; see how silent they are.'
'Ay; and with forty thousand francs we might join them,' said Burke, as
if musing; 'and so safely it may be done.'
'I say no!' replied De Vere resolutely.
'What do you fear? Is it me?'
'No, not you! I believe you are true enough. Your own neck will be
in the rope too; so you'll say nothing. But I won't do it!--pass the
champagne!--there's something so devilish blackguard in stealing a man's
papers.'
Burke started, as if the tones of his companion's voice had stung him
like an adder.
'Have you thought over your present condition?' said Burke firmly. 'You
have not a guinea left; your debts in Paris alone, to my knowledge, are
above forty thousand francs!'
'I'll never pay a franc of them--damned swindlers and Jew
money-lenders!' was the cool reply.
'Might not some scrupulous moralist hint there was something blackguard
in that?' said Burke, with slow and distinct articulation.
'What!' replied De Vere; 'do you come here to tutor me--a low-bred
horse-jockey, a spy? Take off your hands, sir, or I'll alarm the room;
let loose my collar!'
'Come, come, my lord, we 're both in fault,' said Burke, smothering his
passion with a terrible effort; 'we of all men must not quarrel. Play is
to us the air we breathe, the light we live in. Give me your hand.'
'Allow me to draw on my glove first,' said De Vere, in a tone of
incomparable insolence.
'Champagne here!' said Burke to the waiter as he passed, and for some
minutes neither spoke.
The clock chimed a quarter to two, and Burke started to his feet.
'I must be going,' said he hastily; 'I should have been at the Porte St.
Martin by half-past one.'
'Salute the Jacobite Club, _de ma part_,' said De Vere, with an
insulting laugh, 'and tell them to cut everybody's throat in Paris save
old Lafitte's; he has promised to do a bill for me in the morning.'
'You 'll not need his kindness so soon,' replied Burke, 'if you are
willing to take my advice. Forty thousand francs----'
'Would he make it sixty, think you?'
'Sixty!' said Burke, with animation; 'I'm not sure, but shall I say for
sixty you 'll do it?'
'No, I don't mean that; I was only anxious to know if these confounded
rigmaroles I have to copy sometimes could possibly interest any one to
that amount.'
Burke tried to laugh, but the hollow chuckle sounded like the gulping of
a smothering man.
'Laugh out!' said De Vere, whose voice became more and more indistinct
as his courage became stronger; 'that muttering is so devilish like a
spy, a rascally, low-bred----'
A heavy blow, a half-uttered cry, followed, and De Vere fell with a
crash to the floor, his face and temples bathed with blood, while Burke,
springing to the door, darted downstairs and gained the street before
pursuit was thought of. A few of the less interested about the table
assisted me to raise the fallen man, from whose nose and mouth the blood
flowed freely. He was perfectly senseless, and evinced scarcely a sign
of life as we carried him downstairs and placed him in a carriage.
'Where to?' said the coachman, as I stood beside the door.
'I hesitated for a second, and then said, 'No. 4 Place Vendôme.'