Vice has its own ambitions.
Morton.
It was already nigh daybreak. The “bank” had long since been closed, and
none remained of Rica's guests save the most inveterate gamblers,
who were now assembled in a small room in a secret part of the
establishment, presided over by the host himself.
The persons here met were no bad representatives of the “play world,” of
which they formed an important part. They were men, many of them of
the highest rank, who had no other object or pursuit in life than play!
Mingling to a certain extent in public life, they performed before
the world their various parts as soldiers, statesmen, courtiers, or
ambassadors; their thoughts meanwhile travelled but one solitary track.
The only field in which their ambition ranged was the green cloth of the
rouge et noir table. As soldiers they would have lost a battle with
more fortitude than as gamblers they would lose a bet. As statesmen they
would have risked the fate of a kingdom to secure a good “martingale” at
play. Men of highest breeding, in society, abounding in all the graces
that adorn intercourse; here they were taciturn, reserved, almost
morose, never suffering their attention to wander for an instant from
that engrossing theme where gain and loss contended.
Into this society, noiseless and still as stifled feelings and repressed
emotions could make it, Linton entered; a full dress replacing the
clothes he so lately wore, not a trace of unusual agitation on his
features, he seemed in every respect the easy man of fashion for which
the world took him.
A slight nod, a familiar motion of the hand, were all the greetings
which passed between him and such of his acquaintances as deigned to
raise their heads from the game. Linton perceived at once that the play
was high, nor did he need to cast a look at the mountain of gold, the
coinage of every European nation, to know that the “bank” was a winner.
The chief player was a young noble of the king's household, the Duke de
Marsac, a man of originally immense fortune, the greater part of which
he had already squandered at play. His full dress of the Court, for he
had dined the day before at the royal table, contrasted strangely with
the haggard expression of his features, while his powdered hair hung
in stray and dishevelled masses over his temples,--even his deep lace
ruffles, which in his agitation he had torn to very rags,--all bespoke
the abandonment of the loser. Linton, who always passed for a mere
frequenter of the house, unconnected with its interests in any way, saw
at a glance that a perfectly quiet demeanor was imperatively necessary;
that not a word should be uttered, not a syllable let fall, which should
break the spell of that enchantment that was luring on the gambler to
his ruin.
No man was more master of the hundred little artifices by which the
spectator--“the gallery” is the play phrase--can arouse the hopes and
stimulate the expectations of the losing player. He knew to perfection
when to back the unlucky gambler, and how to throw out those
half-muttered words of encouragement so dear and precious to the loser's
heart. But if he knew all this well, he also knew that there are times
when these interferences become impertinent, and when the intense
excitement of the game will not admit of the distraction of sympathy.
Linton, therefore, was silent; he took his seat behind the chair of one
of his intimates, and watched the table attentively.
At the close of a game wherein fortune vacillated for a long time, the
Duke lost above a hundred thousand francs,--a kind of pause, like a
truce, seemed to intervene, and Rica sat with the cards before him, not
making preparations for a new deal.
“Fortune is too decidedly your enemy this evening, my Lord Duke; I am
really ashamed to see you lose thus continuously.”
“There is a certain Château de Marlier, which belongs to me, near St.
Germain,” said the Duke. “It has been valued, with its grounds, at
upwards of seven hundred thousand francs; are you disposed to advance so
much upon it?”
“As loan or purchase?” asked Rica.
“Whichever you prefer. If the choice were mine, I should say as a loan.”
“_Parbleu!_ it is a beautiful spot,” said one of the players. “It was
formerly a hunting-seat of Louis XIV.”
“You are quite correct, sir,” said the Duke. “It was a present from that
monarch to my grandfather, and possesses, amongst its other advantages,
the privilege of giving the owner a ducal coronet. If any man be weak
enough in these days to care for the distinction, he can be Duke de
Marlier on easy terms.”
“Take him,” whispered Linton in Rica's ear. “I accept the venture as my
own.”
“Were I to accept this offer, my Lord Duke,” said Rica, “am I to
understand that no mortgages nor charges of any kind are in existence
against this property?”
“It is perfectly unencumbered,” said the Duke, calmly. “There are some
half-dozen pictures--a Velasquez or two amongst them--which I should
reserve as my own; but everything else would belong to the purchaser.”
“The cost of transferring property in France is considerable, I believe,
and there is some difficulty respecting the right of foreigners to
inherit,” said Rica, again.
“Take him, I say; the risk is mine,” whispered Linton, whose impatience
at the other's caution became each moment stronger.
“Do you accept, Monsieur de Rica?” said the Duke, pushing back his chair
from the table, as though about to rise, “or is there to be an armistice
for the present?”
“It would be ungenerous, my Lord Duke, to refuse you anything in my
power to grant,” said Rica, obsequiously. “As a high-spirited but
unfortunate player--”
“Let not this weigh with you, sir,” said the Duke, proudly; “the chances
are that I leave my estate behind me on this table. That is the only
consideration for you to entertain.”
“Take him at once; it will be too late soon,” whispered Linton again.
“I agree, my Lord,” said Rica, with a slight sigh, as if yielding in
opposition to his inclination. “When is the money to be forthcoming?”
“Now, sir. Here, upon this spot; here, where, before I rise, I am
determined to have my revenge.”
“The bank always closes at daybreak,” said Rica, gravely.
“Upon this occasion it will not,” said the Duke, with an air of command.
“Be it so, my Lord Duke; you shall have everything as you wish it. I
only call these gentlemen to witness that this proceeding is contrary to
my desire, and must form no precedent for the future.”
“Few will be found to ask for such concession,” said the Duke, tartly.
“Let us have no more trifling, but begin.”
“I back the Duke,” said Linton, opening his pocket-book, and taking out
a roll of bank-notes. “Whatever I have touched to-night has gone luckily
with me, and I am sure to bring him good fortune.”
“If I might ask a favor, Monsieur,” said the Duke, “it would be to leave
me to deal single-handed with my destiny.”
“As you please, my Lord,” said Linton, gayly. “If you will not accept me
as ally, you must have me as adversary. Charley, make room for me beside
you,” continued he, addressing a man whose haggard cheek and deep sunken
eye could scarcely recall the features of Lord Charles Frobisher.
“He's in for it,” muttered Frobisher, as Linton seated himself at his
side.
“We shall see,” said Linton, calmly, arranging his notebook before him.
Meanwhile, Rica was busily engaged in counting out to the Duke the heavy
sum of the purchase. This occupied a considerable time, during which
Linton amused the others with a running fire of that gossipry which goes
the round of Parisian society, and takes in the world of politics,
of literature, of art, and of morals. The eventful period was full
of rumors, and none knew better than Linton how to exalt some into
certainty, and degrade others into mere absurdity. “If the bank wins,”
said he, laughingly, at the close of some observation on the condition
of parties, “our friend Rica will be the last Duke in Europe.”
“Bah!” said an officer of the Royal Guard, “grape and canister are just
as effectual as ever they were; there is nothing to be apprehended from
the mob. Two battalions of infantry and a squadron of hussars will carry
the 'ordinances,' if the ministry but give the order.”
“I wish they would begin the game,” said Frobisher, querulously, for he
took no interest in any topic but that of play.
“Has any one given orders that the doors shall be close-barred and
locked?” said another. “The police will be here presently.”
“What should bring the police here, sir?” said Linton, turning suddenly
towards the speaker with a look of almost insolent defiance.
“They are making perquisitions everywhere the last few days,” said the
youth, abashed by the tone and manner of the question.
“Ah! so they are--very true. I beg your pardon,” cried Linton, affecting
a smile. “We are so intent upon our game here, that one actually forgets
what is occurring in the greater game that is playing without.”
“If there 's to be no more play I 'm off to bed,” yawned Frobisher, as
he stretched himself along the chairs. A group had meanwhile gathered
round a table where refreshments and wine were laid out, and were
invigorating themselves for the coming campaign.
“I remember the last _séance_ with closed doors I assisted at,” said
a handsome middle-aged man, with a gray moustache, and short-cut gray
hair, “was in the stable at Fontainebleau. We played for seventeen
hours, and when we separated we discovered that the Empire was at an
end, and the Emperor departed!”
“We might do something of the same kind now, Blancharde,” said another;
“it would be no difficult matter, I fancy, to play an old dynasty out
and a new one in at this moment.”
“Hush, Rozlan! Marsac is not one 'of us,'” whispered the former,
cautiously.
“He 's going the shortest way to become so, notwithstanding. Nothing
enlarges the sphere of political vision like being ruined! One always
becomes liberal, in the political sense, when it is impossible to be so
in any other!”
The chatting now turned on the events that were then impending, a great
diversity of opinion existing as to whether the King would insist upon
carrying the “ordinances,” and a still wider divergence as to what
result would follow. During this discussion, Frobisher's impatience went
beyond all control, and at last he rose, declaring that he would remain
no longer.
“You forget that the doors are locked for twenty-four hours, sir,” said
another, “and neither can any one leave or enter the room before that
time.”
“We are more sacred than a privy council or a chapter of the knights of
St. Louis,” said Rozlan.
“Now then to see who is the next Duc de Marlier!” whispered Linton in
Rica's ear. “Let us begin.”
“One word with you, Linton,” whispered Rica; “don't bet high, it
distracts my attention,--make a mere game of amusement, for this will be
a hard struggle, and it must be the last.”
“So I perceive,” rejoined Linton; “events are coming fast; we must be
off ere the tide overtake us.”
“The game, the game!” cried Frobisher, striking the table with his rake.
“And Maritaña?” whispered Linton, holding Rica by the arm.
The other grew lividly pale, and his lip quivered as he said, “Is this
the time, Linton--”
“It is the very time,” rejoined the other, determinedly, “and I will
have my answer now. You cannot equivocate with me.”
“I do not seek to do so. I have told you always what I tell you still--I
cannot coerce her.”
“There will be no need; this dukedom will do the business. I know her
well--better than you do. See, they are watching us yonder. Say the word
at once--it is agreed.”
“Hear me, Linton--”
“I 'll hear nothing; save the one word 'agreed.'”
“Let me but explain--”
“There is nothing to explain. The betrothal you allude to is, as none
knows better than yourself, an idle ceremony; and if she loves the
fellow, so much the more urgent are the reasons for my request. Be
quick, I say.”
“If she consent--”
“She shall. My Lord Duke, a thousand pardons, I beg, for this delay; but
Rica has been tormenting me these ten minutes by the refusal of a petty
favor. He is become reasonable at last; and now for the combat!”
The party seated themselves like men about to witness an exciting event;
and although each had his venture on the game, the Duke was the great
object of interest, and speculation was high as to how the struggle was
to end.
It is no part of our object to follow the changing fortunes of that long
contest, nor watch the vacillating chances which alternately elevated
to hope and lowered to very desperation. Before the day began to dawn,
every player, save the Duke, had ceased to bet. Some, worn out and
exhausted, had sunk to sleep upon the rich ottomans; others, drinking
deep of champagne, seemed anxious to forget everything. Frobisher,
utterly ruined, sat in the same place at the table, mechanically marking
the game, on which he had no longer a stake, and muttering exclamations
of joy or disappointment at imaginary gains and losses, for he still
fancied that he was betting large sums, and participating in all the
varying emotions of a gambler's life.
The luck of the bank continued. Play how he would, boldly “back the
color,” or try to suit the fitful fortunes of the game, the Duke went on
losing.
Were such an ordeal one to evoke admiration, it could scarcely be
withheld from him, who, with an unwearied brain and unbroken temper, sat
patiently there, fighting foot to foot, contesting every inch of ground,
and even in defeat, preserving the calm equanimity of his high breeding.
Behind his chair stood Linton,--a flush of triumph on his cheek as he
continued to behold the undeviating course of luck that attended the
bank, “Another deal like that,” muttered he, “and I shall quarter the
arms of Marlier with Linton.”
The words were scarcely uttered, when a deep sigh broke from the
Duke--it was the first that had escaped him--and he buried his head
between his hands. Rica looked over at Linton, and a slight, almost
imperceptible, motion of his eyebrows signalled that the battle was nigh
over.
“Well! how is the game? Am I betting?--what's the color?” said the Duke,
passing his clammy hand across his brow.
“I am waiting for you, my Lord Duke,” said Rica, obsequiously.
“I am ready--quite ready,” cried the other. “Am I the only player? I
fancied that some others were betting. Where's my Lord Charles?--ah! I
see him. And Mr. Linton--is he gone?”
“He has just left the room, my Lord Duke. Will you excuse me if I follow
him for an instant?” And at the same moment Rica arose, and left the
chamber with hasty steps.
It was at the end of a long corridor, tapping gently at a door, Linton
stood, as Rica came up.
“What! is't over already?” said Linton, with a look of angry impatience.
“This is not fair, Linton!” said Rica, endeavoring to get nearest to the
door.
“What is not fair?” said the other, imperiously. “You told me awhile
ago that she must pronounce, herself, upon her own future. Well, I am
willing to leave it to that issue.”
“But she is unfit to do so at present,” said Rica, entreat-ingly.
“You know well how unsettled is her mind, and how wandering are her
faculties. There are moments when she scarcely knows _me_--her father.”
“It is enough if she remember me,” said Linton, insolently. “Her
intellects will recover--the cloud will pass away; and, if it should
not, still--as my wife, it is an object I have set my heart on; and so,
let me pass.”
“I cannot--I will not peril her chances of recovery by such a shock,”
said Rica, firmly; then changing suddenly, he spoke in accents of
deep feeling: “Remember, Linton, how I offered you _her_ whom you
acknowledged you preferred. I told you the means of coercion in my
power, and pledged myself to use them. It was but two days since I
discovered where they were; to-morrow we will go there together. I
will claim her as my daughter; the laws of France are imperative in the
matter. Mary Leicester shall be yours.”
“I care for her no longer,” said Linton, haughtily. “I doubt, indeed, if
I ever cared for her; she is not one to suit my fortunes. Maritaña is,
or at least may become so.”
“Be it so, but not now, Linton; the poor child's reason is clouded.”
“When she hears she is a duchess,” said Linton, half sneeringly, “it
will dispel the gloomy vapor.”
“I implore you--I entreat--on my knees I beg of you--” said the
distracted father, and, unable to utter more, he sank powerless at
Linton's feet; meanwhile the other opened the door, and, stepping
noiselessly over the prostrate figure, entered the room.