THE GYPSY WITCH CARDS
So that evening Danby Force consented to have his fortune told. Being a
practical young man who thought in terms of dollars and cents, and
seldom found time for dreaming, he was not likely to take the matter
seriously. Why did he consent? Perhaps it was because he liked Petite
Jeanne and wished to please her. And then again there may have been in
his nature, as there is in many another practical person’s, a feeling
for the mysterious, the thing that cannot be entirely explained. And who
can say that this race of wanderers, these gypsies, may not have hidden
away in their breasts some secrets unknown to others? Surely, as we have
seen, they could make a cape of royal purple such as is known among no
other people. Whatever the reason, Danby Force consented to have his
fortune told.
That night the great lounge of the hunting lodge presented to Jeanne a
setting both weird and wonderful. She loved it. Flames in the great
fireplace sent shadows chasing one another from beam to beam of the
ceiling. Two candles, one at each end of the long table, casting each
its yellow gleam, brought out the handsome smiling face of Danby Force,
but left Madame Bihari in all but complete darkness. From the mantel
above the fire came the slow tick-tock of a clock. Once, from without,
the girl thought she caught the challenging cry of some wild thing,
perhaps a wolf.
“There,” said Madame Bihari, looking up at Danby Force, “are the cards.
You shall shuffle them, my young friend. You shall cut them with your
left hand. Then you shall place them on the table in positions I shall
tell you of.” Madame Bihari talked at this moment just as Jeanne had
always imagined a wooden man might talk, each word spoken in the same
low, slow tone.
“There are the cards,” Jeanne thought to herself. Yes, there they were.
How many times she had watched Madame Bihari tell fortunes from those
cards! As she closed her eyes she could see some rich and dignified
dame, at the steps of a castle in France, spread out those same cards,
then sit intent, motionless, expectant as Madame Bihari told her
fortune.
“And how cleverly she tells them!” Jeanne whispered to herself. “There
was the Chateau Buraine. Madame said, ‘It will be destroyed by fire.’
Two months later it was in ashes. And the gypsies did not set the fire.
_Mais_ no! No! They were all away at the Paris Fair.”
“Now—” Madame was speaking once more to Danby. “Now you have shuffled,
you have cut the cards. You shall now lay them face-up in rows, six in
the first row, then eight in a row for five rows, and last, six in a
row.”
Jeanne watched fascinated as the cards were turned up. She knew those
cards by heart. Each had its number. On each card was a different
picture, a serpent, a sun, a moon, children at play, a house, a cloud, a
tree, a mouse, a bear; yes, yes, there were pictures and each picture
had its meaning, a good prophecy or a bad one. Health, happiness,
riches, love, enemies, failure, deception, sickness, death—all these and
many more were prophesied by these pictures.
Most important of all was one card, the picture of a gentleman in
evening coat and tall, starched collar. His number was 19. It was this
card that, in the next moment or two, would stand for the young man,
Danby Force. Would he be surrounded by cards telling of success, love
and happiness, or by those telling of dire misfortune? She held her
breath as Danby, his fingers trembling slightly, dealt the cards.
Did Jeanne believe in all this? Had you asked her, she would perhaps
have found no reply. She had lived long with the gypsies, had Petite
Jeanne. How could she escape believing? And, after all, who would wish
to escape? Who is there in all the world that cares to say, “I know all
about these things. There is no truth in them?”
Anyway, here was Madame Bihari, Danby Force, Petite Jeanne. Here were
the dancing shadows. There were the cards. And there—Jeanne caught her
breath. Yes, there was the man in evening dress. There was card number
19. Every card placed close to him must have a very special meaning.
Leaning back into the shadows, she waited. When all the cards were down,
Madame Bihari would study them. There would be a silence, three minutes,
four, five minutes long, then Madame would speak.
In her eagerness to catch every word, Jeanne moved close up beside Danby
Force.
Silence followed, such a silence as makes a roar of the wind singing
down the chimney. From the mountainside there came the whisper of spruce
trees. Torn, twisted, and tangled by storms, those trees stood there
like horrible dwarfs whispering of love and life, of hatred and death.
Once Jeanne, moved by who knows what impulse, went tip-toeing from her
place to press her nose against the glass and peer into that darkness.
Then, as if all the gnarled trees had been shaking fists at her, she
sprang back to her place close to Danby Force.
When at last Madame Bihari broke the silence, she spoke in a deep
melodious tone:
“Ah. The snake!”
“The snake!” Jeanne murmured low. She shuddered.
“But he is not too near.” There was a measure of relief in Madame’s
tone. “And see! Between Monsieur and the snake is the Book. Ah! That is
good! The Book stands for mystery that shall be solved. And the Eye!”
Her tone became animated.
“Oh! The Eye!” Jeanne was smiling now, for well she knew that the Eye
betokened great interest taken by friends.
“Friends,” she whispered to Danby Force, when Madame had told of the
Eye, “Friends, they are everything!”
“Yes.” Danby’s tone was full of meaning. “Friends, loyal friends, they
are worth more than all else in this life! And, thank God, I have many
friends!”
“And see!” Madame exclaimed. “Here is the Moon. A very good sign.
“But the fox! Ah, this is bad! This speaks of distrust. There are those,
Monsieur, whom you must not trust too much—perhaps some who are very
close to you.”
“Yes, I—”
Madame did not permit the young man to finish. “The Sun!” Her face
darkened. “The Sun tells of future vexation.”
“I shouldn’t wonder.” Danby Force laughed. “Indeed I have had quite a
lot of that already. But come! I shall be having the jitters from all
this evil prophecy. Let’s get our little blonde-haired friend to make us
a steaming cup of chocolate, and please put in just one spoonful of
malted milk and a marshmallow.” He touched Jeanne’s golden locks gently.
“But one moment!” Madame protested. “Here is the pig close at hand. He
tells of great abundance.”
“Perhaps that means that I am to have two cups of chocolate.” Danby
laughed once more.
“But yes!” Jeanne joined him in the laugh. “Three if you say so.”
“One moment more, I pray you!” Madame’s tone was very earnest. “I read
in these cards that there is one who calls himself your friend. He has
dark and curly hair. He smiles. He dances. He is very much alive. But
ah! He is a rascal! You must beware!”
“I shall beware. Thank you,” Danby said soberly.
“And now!” exclaimed Jeanne, springing to her feet, “Our cup of cheer!”
When their light repast was over, when Madame sat nodding by the fire
that had burned low, Jeanne spoke to Danby Force in words of exceeding
soberness. “You must not treat too lightly Madame’s forecast with the
cards. Indeed you must not! She is old. She has told fortunes since she
was a child. The rich and the very great, they have listened often to
her fortunes. Truly they have.
“Once—” her voice dropped to a whisper. “Once she said to a man, a very
great man who lived in a castle on a hill: ‘You shall die. In two months
you will be dead.’ And in two months his heart stopped. He was dead,
dead.”
For some time after that she sat staring at the fire. When she spoke
again it was in a changed tone:
“But you, my friend, you did not have a bad fortune. Indeed not! There
were troubles. They come to all. You will overcome them. There were
those you must not trust. You will discover that they are traitors. In
the end you shall have honor, perhaps much money, and always I am sure—”
her voice dropped, “Always you shall have many, many friends.”
“Ah yes,” he whispered. “Please, dear little French girl, many friends!”
After that, for a long time, with the fire gleaming brightly before them
and the murmur of the wild out-of-doors coming down the chimney to them,
they sat reading their own fortunes in the flames.