Vivian Grey Part 33

"More than I can express. Did you think him in good spirits?"

"Generally so: as cheerful as all fathers can be without their only son."

"Did he complain, then, of my absence?"

"He regretted it."

"I linger in Germany with the hope of seeing him; otherwise I should have now been much further south. Do you find Sir Hargrave as amusing as ever?"

"When is he otherwise than the most delightful of old men? Sir Hargrave is one of my great favourites. I should like to persuade you to return and see them all. Cannot you fancy Chester Grange very beautiful now?

Albert!" said her Ladyship, turning to her brother, "what is the number of our apartments? Mr. Grey, the sun has now disappeared, and I fear the night air among these mountains. We have hardly yet summer nights, though we certainly have summer days. We shall be happy to see you at our rooms." So saying, bowing very cordially to Vivian and coldly to the Baron, Lady Madeleine left the gardens.

"There goes the most delightful woman in the world," said the Baron; "how fortunate that you know her! for really, as you might have observed, I have no great claims on her indulgent notice. I was certainly very wild in England; but then young men, you know, Grey! and I did not leave a card, or call, before I went; and the English are very stiff and precise about those things; and the Trevors had been very kind to me. I think we had better take a little coffee now; and then, if you like, we will just stroll into the REDOUTE."

In a brilliantly-illuminated saloon, adorned with Corinthian columns and casts from some of the most famous antique statues, a.s.sembled, between nine and ten o'clock in the evening, many of the visitors at Ems. On each side of the room was placed a long narrow table, one of which was covered with green baize, and unattended; while the variously-coloured leathern surface of the other was closely surrounded by an interested crowd. Behind this table stood two individuals of different appearance.

The first was a short, thick man, whose only business was dealing certain portions of playing cards with quick succession one after the other: and as the fate of the table was decided by this process, did his companion, a very tall, thin man, throw various pieces of money upon certain stakes, which were deposited by the bystanders on different parts of the table; or, which was much oftener the case, with a silver rake with a long ebony handle, sweep into a large inclosure near him the scattered sums. This inclosure was called the Bank, and the mysterious ceremony in which these persons were a.s.sisting was the celebrated game of rouge-et-noir. A deep silence was strictly preserved by those who immediately surrounded the table; no voice was heard save that of the little, short, stout dealer, when, without an expression of the least interest, he seemed mechanically to announce the fate of the different colours. No other sound was heard, except the jingle of the dollars and Napoleons, and the ominous rake of the tall, thin banker. The countenances of those who were hazarding their money were grave and gloomy: their eyes were fixed, their brows contracted, and their lips projected; and yet there was an evident effort visible to show that they were both easy and unconcerned. Each player held in his hand a small piece of pasteboard, on which, with a steel p.r.i.c.ker, he marked, the run of the cards, in order, from his observations, to regulate his own play.

The rouge-et-noir player imagines that chance is not capricious. Those who were not interested in the game promenaded in two lines within the tables, or, seated in recesses between the pillars, formed small parties for conversation.

"I suppose we must throw away a dollar or two," said the Baron, as he walked up to the table.

"My dear De Konigstein, one pinch!"

"Ah! Marquess, what fortune to-night?"

"Bad! I have lost my Napoleon: I never risk further. There is that cursed crusty old De Trumpet son, persisting, as usual, in his run of bad luck; because he never will give in. Trust me, my dear De Konigstein, it will end in his ruin; and then, if there be a sale of his effects, I shall, perhaps, get his snuff-box; a-a-h!"

"Come, shall I throw down a couple of Napoleons on joint account. I do not care much for play myself; but I suppose, at Ems, we must make up our minds to lose a few Louis. Here! now, for the red; joint account, mind!"

"Done."

"There's the Grand Duke! Let us go and make our bow; we need not stick at the table as if our whole soul were staked with our crown-pieces," So saying, the gentlemen walked up to the top of the room.

"Why, Grey! Surely no, it cannot be, and yet it is. De Boeffleurs, how d'ye do?" said the Baron, with a face beaming with joy and a hearty shake of the hand. "My dear fellow, how did you manage to get off so soon? I thought you were not to be here for a fortnight: we only arrived ourselves to-day."

"Yes; but I have made an arrangement which I did not antic.i.p.ate; and so I posted after you at once. Whom do you think I have brought with me?"

"Who?"

"Salvinski."

"Ah! And the Count?"

"Follows immediately. I expect him to-morrow or next day. Salvinski is talking to the Grand Duke; and see, he beckons to me. I suppose I am going to be presented."

The Chevalier moved forward, followed by the Baron and Vivian.

"Any friend of Prince Salvinski I shall always have great pleasure in having presented to me. Chevalier, I feel great pleasure in having you presented to me. Chevalier, you ought to be proud of the name of Frenchman. Chevalier, the French are a great nation. Chevalier, I have the highest respect for the French nation."

"The most subtile diplomatist," thought Vivian, as he recalled to mind his own introduction, "would be puzzled to decide to which interest his Imperial Highness leans."

The Grand Duke now entered into conversation with the Prince, and most of the circle who surrounded him. As his Imperial Highness was addressing Vivian, the Baron let slip our hero's arm, and, taking that of the Chevalier de Boeffleurs, began walking up and down the room with him, and was soon engaged in animated conversation. In a few minutes the Grand Duke, bowing to his circle, made a move, and regained the side of a Saxon lady, from whose interesting company he had been disturbed by the arrival of Prince Salvinski; an individual of whose long stories and dull romances the Grand Duke had, from experience, a particular dread: but his Highness was always very courteous to the Poles.

"Grey, I have despatched De Boeffleurs to the house, to instruct his servant and Ernstorff to do the impossible, in order that our rooms may be all together. You will be delighted with De Boeffleurs when you know him, and I expect you to be great friends. By-the-bye, his unexpected arrival has quite made us forget our venture at rouge-et-noir. Of course we are too late now for anything; even if we had been fortunate, our stake, remaining on the table, is, of course, lost: we may as well, however, walk up." So saying, the Baron reached the table.

"That is your Excellency's stake! that is your Excellency's stake!"

exclaimed many voices as he came up.

"What is the matter, my friends?" asked the Baron, calmly.

"There has been a run on the red! there has been a run on the red! and your Excellency's stake has doubled each time. It has been 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, and now it is 512!" quickly rattled a little thin man in spectacles, pointing at the same time to his unparalleled line of punctures. This was one of those officious, noisy little men who are always ready to give you unasked information, and who are never so happy as when they are watching over the interest of some stranger, who never thanks them for their unnecessary solicitude.

Vivian, in spite of his philosophy, felt the excitement of the moment.

He looked at the Baron, whose countenance, however, was unmoved.

"It seems," said he, coolly, "we are in luck."

"The stake, then, is not all your own?" eagerly asked the little man in spectacles.

"No; part of it is yours, sir," answered the Baron, drily.

"I am going; to deal," said the short, thick man behind. "Is the board cleared?"

"Your Excellency, then, allows the stake to remain?" inquired the tall, thin banker, with affected nonchalance.

"Oh! certainly," said the Baron, with real nonchalance.

"Three, eight, fourteen, twenty-four, thirty-four. Rouge 34--"

All crowded nearer; the table was surrounded five or six deep, for the wonderful run of luck had got wind, and nearly the whole room were round the table. Indeed, the Grand Duke and Saxon lady, and of course the silent suite, were left alone at the upper part of the room. The tall banker did not conceal his agitation. Even the short, stout dealer ceased to be a machine. All looked anxious except the Baron. Vivian looked at the table; his Excellency watched, with a keen eye, the little dealer. No one even breathed as the cards descended. "Ten, twenty (here the countenance of the banker brightened), twenty-two, twenty-five, twenty-eight, thirty-one; noir 31. The bank's broke: no more play tonight. The roulette table opens immediately."

In spite of the great interest which had been excited, nearly the whole crowd, without waiting to congratulate the Baron, rushed to the opposite side of the room, in order to secure places at the roulette fable.

"Put these five hundred and twelve Napoleons into a bag," said the Baron, "Grey, this is your share. With regard to the other half, Mr.

Hermann, what bills have you got?"

"Two on Gogel of Frankfort for two hundred and fifty each, and these twelve Napoleons will make it right," said the tall banker, as he opened a large black pocket-book, from which he took out two small bits of paper. The Baron examined them, and after having seen them endorsed, put them into his pocket, not forgetting the twelve Napoleons; and then taking Vivian's arm, and regretting extremely that he should have the trouble of carrying such a weight, he wished Mr. Hermann a very good night and success at his roulette, and walked with his companion quietly home. Thus pa.s.sed a day at Ems!

CHAPTER VII

On the following morning, Vivian met with his friend Essper George, behind a small stall in the Bazaar.

"Well, my Lord, what do you wish? Here are Eau de Cologne, violet soap, and watch-ribbons; a smelling bottle of Ems crystal; a snuff-box of fig-tree wood. Name your price: the least trifle that can be given by a man who breaks a bank must be more than my whole stock-in-trade is worth.

"I have not paid you yet, Essper, for my gla.s.s chain. There is your share of my winnings, the fame of which, it seems, has reached even you!" added Vivian, with no pleased air.