Prince Fortunatus Part 48

"Take it--and give it to the organ-grinder!" she called, in the madness of her rage.

He did not even look whither the ring had rolled. Without a single word he quite calmly turned and opened the door and pa.s.sed outside. Nay, he was so considerate as to leave the door open for her; for he knew she would be wanted on the stage directly. He himself went up into the wings--in his gay costume of satin and silk and powdered wig and ruffles.

Had the audience only known, during the last act of this comedy, what fierce pa.s.sions were agitating the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the two chief performers in this pretty play, they might have looked on with added interest. How could they tell that the gallant and dashing Harry Thornhill was in his secret heart filled with anger and disdain whenever he came near his charming sweetheart? how could they divine that the coquettish Grace Mainwaring was not thinking of her wiles and graces at all, but was on the road to a most piteous repentance? The one was saying to himself, "Very well, let the vixen go to the devil; a happy riddance!" and the other was saying, "Oh, dear me, what have I done?--why did he put me in such a pa.s.sion?" But the public in the stalls were all unknowing. They looked on and laughed, or looked on and sat solemn and stolid, as happened to be their nature; and then they slightly clapped their pale-gloved hands, and rose and donned their cloaks and coats. They had forgotten what the piece was about by the time they reached their broughams.

Later on, at the stage-door, whither a four-wheeler had been brought for her, Miss Burgoyne lingered. Presently Lionel came along. He would have pa.s.sed her, but she intercepted him; and in the dusk outside she thrust forth her hand.

"Will you forgive me, Lionel? I ask your forgiveness," she said, in an undertone that was suggestive of tears. "I don't know what made me say such things--I didn't mean them--I'm very sorry. See," she continued, and in the dull lamp-light she showed him her ungloved hand, with the engagement-ring in its former place--"I have put on the ring again. Of course, you are hurt and offended; but you are more forgiving than a woman--a man should be. I will never say a word against her again; I should have remembered how you were companions before she came to England; and I can understand your affection for her, and your--your regret about her going away. Now will you be generous?--will you forgive me?"

"Oh, yes, that's all right," he said--as he was bound to say.

"But that's not enough. Will you come now and have some supper with Jim and me, and we'll talk about everything--except that one thing?"

"No, thanks, I can't; I have an engagement," he made answer.

She hesitated for a moment. Then she offered him her hand again.

"Well, at all events, bygones are to be bygones," she said. "And to-morrow I'm going to begin to knit a woollen vest for you, that you can slip on before you come out. Good-night, dearest!"

"Good-night," he said; and he opened the door of the cab for her and told the cabman her address; then--rather slowly and absently--he set out for the Garden Club.

The first person he beheld at the Garden Club was Octavius Quirk--of course at the supper-table.

"Going to Lady Adela's on the 3d?" said the bilious-looking Quirk, in a gay manner.

"I should want to be asked first," was Lionel's simple rejoinder.

"Ah!" said the other, complacently, "I heard you had not been much there lately. A charming house--most interesting--quite delightful to see people of their station so eagerly devoted to the arts. Music, painting, literature--all the elegancies of life--and all touched with a light and graceful hand. You should read some of Lady Adela's descriptions in her new book--not seen it?--no?--ah, well, it will be out before long for the general world to read. As I was saying, her descriptions of places abroad are simply charming--charming. There's where the practised traveller comes in; no heavy and laborious work; the striking peculiarities. .h.i.t off with the most delicate appreciation: the _fine fleur_ of difference noted everywhere. Your bourgeois goes and rams his bull's head against everything he meets; he's in wonderment and ecstacy almost before he lands; he stares with astonishment at a fisherwoman on Calais pier and weeps maudlin tears over the masonry of the Sainte Chapelle. Then Lady Adela's style--marvellous, marvellous. I give you my word as an expert! Full of distinction; choice; fastidious; penetrated everywhere by a certain _je ne sais quoi_ of dexterity and apt.i.tude; each word charged with color, as a critic might say. You have not seen any of the sheets?" continued Mr. Quirk, with his mouth full of steak and olives. "Dear me! You haven't quarrelled with Lady Adela, have you?

I did hear there was some little disappointment that you did not get Lady Sybil's 'Soldiers' Marching Song' introduced at the New Theatre; but I dare say the composer wouldn't have his operetta interfered with.

Even you are not all-powerful. However, Lady Adela is unreasonable if she has taken offence: I will see that it is put right."

"I wouldn't trouble you--thanks!" said Lionel, rather coldly; and then, having eaten a biscuit and drank a gla.s.s of claret and water, he went up-stairs to the card-room.

There were two tables occupied--one party playing whist, the other poker; to the latter Lionel idly made his way.

"Coming in, Moore?"

"Oh, yes, I'll come in. What are you playing?"

"Usual thing: sixpenny ante and five-shilling limit."

"Let's have it a shilling ante and a sovereign limit," he proposed, as they made room for him at the table, and to this they agreed, and the game began.

At first Lionel could get no hands at all, but he never went out; sometimes he drew four cards to an ace or a queen, sometimes he took the whole five; while his losses, if steady, were not material. Occasionally he bluffed, and got a small pot; but it was risky, as he was distinctly in a run of bad luck. At last he was dealt nine, ten, knave, queen, ace, in different suite. This looked better.

"How many?" asked the dealer.

"I will take one card, if you please," he said, throwing away the ace.

He glanced at the card, as he put it into his hand: it was a king; he had a straight. Then he watched what the others were taking. The player on his left also asked for one--a doubtful intimation. His next neighbor asked for two--probably he had three of a kind. The dealer threw up his cards. The age had already taken three--no doubt he had started with the common or garden pair.

It was Lionel's turn to bet.

"Well," said he, "I will just go five shillings on this little lot."

"I will see your five shillings and go a sovereign better," said his neighbor.

"That's twenty-five shillings for me to come in," said he who had taken two cards. "Well, I'll raise you another sovereign."

The age went out.

"Two sovereigns against me," said Lionel "Very well, then, I'll just raise you another."

"And another."

This frightened the third player, who incontinently retired. There were now left in only Lionel and his antagonist, and each had drawn but one card. Now the guessing came in. Had the player been drawing to two pairs, or to fill a flush or a straight; had he got a full hand; or was he left with his two pairs; or, again, had he failed to fill, and was he betting on a perfectly worthless lot? At all events the two combatants kept hammering away at each other, until there was a goodly pile of gold on the table, and the interest of the silent onlookers was proportionately increased. Were both bluffing and each afraid to call the other? Or was it that cruel and horrible combination--a full hand betting against four of a kind?

"I call you," said Lionel's enemy, at length, as he put down the last sovereign he had on the table.

"A straight," was Lionel's answer, as he showed his cards.

"Not good enough, my boy," said the other, as he calmly ranged a flush of diamonds before him.

"Take away the money, Johnny," said Lionel, as if it were a matter of no moment. "Or wait a second; I'll go you double or quits."

But here there was an almost general protest.

"Oh, what's the use of that, Moore? It was the duke who brought that nonsense in, and it ought to be stopped; it spoils the game. Stick to the legitimate thing. When you once begin that stupidity, there's no stopping it."

However, the player whom Lionel had challenged had no mind to deny him.

"For the whole pot, or for what you put in?" he asked.

"Either--whichever you like," Lionel said, carelessly.

"We'll say the whole pot, then: either I give you what's on the table, or you double it," the lucky young gentleman made answer, as he proceeded to count the sovereigns and chips--there was 28 in all. "Will you call to me? Very well. What do you say this is?"--spinning a sovereign.

"I say it's a head," Lionel replied.

"You've made a mistake, then--very sorry," said the other, as he raked in his own money.

"I owe you twenty-eight pounds, Johnny," Lionel said, without more ado; and he took out his note-book and jotted it down. Then they went on again.

Now the game of poker is played in calm; happy is he who can preserve a perfectly expressionless face through all its vicissitudes. But the game of whiskey-poker (which is no game) is played amid vacuous excitement and strong language and derisive laughter--especially towards four in the morning. The whole of this little party seemed ready to go; in fact, they had all risen and were standing round the table; but nevertheless they remained, while successive hands were dealt, face upwards. At first only a sovereign each was staked, then two, then three, then four, then five--and there a line was drawn. But in staking five sovereigns every time, with four to one against you, a considerable amount of money can be lost; and Lionel had been in ill-luck all the sitting. He did not, however, seem to mind his losses, so long as the fierce spirit of gambling could be kept up; and it was with no desperate effort at recovering his money that he was always for increasing the stakes. He would have sat down at the table and gone on indefinitely with this frantic plunging, but that his companions declared they must go directly; at last three of them solemnly swore they would have only one round more. There were then left in only Lionel and the young fellow who had won his 28 early in the evening.

"Johnny, I'll go you once for twenty pounds," Lionel said.

"Done with you."