The Enemies of Women (Los enemigos de la mujer)

by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez

  CHAPTER V

  Don Marcos had never seen the Prince so vexed as he was that morning,when he announced that the Duchess de Delille was waiting for himdown-stairs in the hall.

  "You should have told her I'd gone out; any sort of a pretext--a lunchat Nice.... There must be some understanding between you. You certainlylook out for your Infanta!"

  The Colonel, flushed with emotion, made an effort to reply to theseaccusations. If the Duchess had now suddenly presented herself, it wasperhaps because he had refused to take any of her messages for thePrince.

  As the latter went down to the hall, he ran straight into Alicia, whowas standing close to a window, and looking at the gardens and the sea.Her back was towards him, just as he had seen her coming out of theconcert. When she turned her head, Michael thought to himself that hewould surely never have recognized her had he met her anywhere else. Shewas a beautiful woman, but scarcely like the person he had seen thatlast time in the "study" on the Avenue du Bois, with its weird orientalnick-nacks and unwholesome perfumes. Several years of her life hadpassed away since then, and yet she seemed fresher, and younger. Hereyes had lost the veiled disturbing fire, that made them look larger,and gave them a fixed, unnatural stare. The dull, sickly whiteness ofher skin had taken on color from the sun and the open air. Her airy,undulating litheness had become less willowy, giving her person the calmtranquillity of bodies that are beginning to crystallize in theirdefinitive form.

  The Prince, interrupted by Alicia's smiling glance, was unable tocontinue his scrutiny. It seemed from her quiet easy manner as thoughshe had been there in that very place only the day before. Moreover,Michael suddenly began to wonder how he should start the conversation.Should he talk English or French? Should he speak informally asbefore?... She put an end to his hesitation, speaking familiarly inSpanish, just as when they were children.

  "How hard it is to get in touch with you! Practically impossible,"Alicia said as she sat down, after shaking hands with him. "So I decidedto pay you this visit. It isn't exactly proper for a lady to call on aperson with such a terrible reputation as you have; but I'm not thefirst one who has come here. There have been lots of others!"

  She laughed teasingly as she said this. Immediately she became serious,and said timidly:

  "I came here on business--a money matter."

  Not wanting to take up such a subject at once, she talked about theobstacles which had obliged her to come unannounced to Villa Sirena. ThePrince could have absolute confidence in the fidelity with which his"chamberlain" carried out his orders. This Colonel was a nice fellow,but there was no approaching him, any more than a ferocious dog, whensome one tries to make him disobey his master. She had vainly asked himto announce her visit; and he had even refused to accept her card forhis Prince.

  "I might have written you; but I was afraid you wouldn't reply, or wouldsimply tell me to deal with your agent in Paris. It has been such a longtime since we've seen each other! Our friendship has been sointermittent! So that is why I finally decided last night to come andsurprise you in your den, with the hope that you wouldn't show me thedoor."

  Michael smiled, making a gesture of indignant denial.

  "I came about my debt ... the loans your mother made me some time ago. Ididn't know how much they amounted to. Your agent now says they are overfour hundred thousand francs. It must be so, if he maintains it. Attimes when I was in straits I asked for something, and the Princess, whowas such a great lady, kept giving and giving, without either of uspaying any attention to the amounts. Now I see how tremendously generousshe must have been."

  This was surprising news for Lubimoff. Then he gradually recalled thatwhen his mother died she had left a long memorandum of all the loans shehad made, and that Alicia's name figured among the debtors. But he hadleft the papers in the hands of his administrator, without thinking anymore about the matter.

  He immediately understood the reason for Alicia's visit. His agent hadwanted to raise some money, and owing to the lack of funds from Russia,he was raising all he could in the West: credits ... advances made tofriends or dependents, guaranty deposits, and even the loans made by thePrincess, which, according to his express orders, were not to bedemanded except in case of strict necessity.

  The general pressure of circumstances had reached Alicia. For the lastfour months the Lubimoff estate had been sending her letter afterletter, demanding the payment of her enormous debt. Already the agent'slast note had become threatening because of her silence. It notified herthat action would be brought against her in court. The estate washolding many of her letters thanking the Princess for the latter'sgenerosity. Besides, all the money had been paid by checks cashed bythe Duchess herself.

  "Your administrator is certainly an insolent fellow. The other day I sawyou in the Casino,--I saw you from behind as you were running away frompeople. You frightened me: I imagined then that you had changed, thatyou were very different from the man I knew, and that we would nevercome to an understanding. Later I thought you mustn't be quite soterrible as you seem ... and I came."

  Michael, remaining silent, seemed to be saying something with his eyes,which were fixed on Alicia. Well, why had she come? What was it shewished to propose to him?

  She smiled with an expression of cynical amusement.

  "I came to tell you that I can't pay now--and perhaps never; to beg youto wait, I don't know how long, and to ask you to see that thatdisagreeable fellow who is managing your estate doesn't annoy me withhis insolence."

  And as the Prince made no move, she continued,

  "I'm ruined."

  "So am I," said Michael. "We're all ruined. The munition makers are theonly people with any money now."

  "Oh! You ruined!" Alicia protested. "With you it is simply a question ofbeing hard pressed for the moment. Things in Russia will be straightenedout some time or other. Besides, you are Prince Lubimoff, the famousmillionaire. If I had your name, who would refuse me a loan?"

  Suddenly she lost the audacious smile which she had worked up for theinterview. Her eyes grew darker; the corners of her mouth drooped.

  "I am really ruined. Look."

  She pointed to the triangle of bare flesh visible at the throat of herlow cut dress. A pearl necklace rested on her white bosom. Michael, asshe insisted, finally looked at the pearls. False, scandalously false;all the luster gone, opaque and yellow as drops of wax. He knewsomething about pearls; he had given away so many necklaces! Then Aliciashowed him her hands. Two artistically made finger rings, but withoutany jewels, and of slight intrinsic value, were all that adorned herfingers.

  "This is a last year's dress," she added in a mournful voice, as thoughconfessing something most shameful. "They won't trust me any more inParis. I owe so much! Nothing but the hat is new. What woman, no matterhow poor she might feel, wouldn't buy a hat! It is the most conspicuousthing about one,--something that changes all the time; and must belooked after at all costs. Luckily, on account of the war, they are notusing plumes.... I'm poor, Michael, poorer than any woman you everknew."

  "And your mother?"

  The Prince asked this instinctively, without thinking. A moment later hesuspected that he had read, some years before, he didn't know where,perhaps while he was roving the seas, the news of the death of DonaMercedes. He was not sure; but her daughter removed all doubt.

  "Poor senora! Let's not talk about her."

  But nevertheless Alicia did talk, but only to lament her mother's devoutprodigality. She had given millions for the construction of an enormoushospital in Spain, on the advice of her Aragonese chaplain, theastronomer of the Champs-Elysees. Marble was used in the constructionfor the mere masonry; the garden fence was forged by a celebratedParisian artist who devoted himself to molding bronze statues fordrawing-rooms. But when the vicar left, tired of such generosity, themonster building remained unfinished, and the precious fence lay on theground in pieces, like so much old iron. Later, the "Monsignor" directedthe worthy lady's funds into other channels. It was necessar
y to spreadthe faith by means of the "good book," and a new publishing house arosein Paris, which was most extraordinary and unheard of. Packages of bookswere stored on mahogany shelves, and the leaves were folded on lacquertables.

  "The priests got everything that belonged to me," Alicia continued. "Attimes they egged mamma on to the most absurd outlays of money just forthe sake of collecting commissions from the contractors. From numerousbelfries in both hemispheres chimes rang thanks to Dona Mercedes. Oneentire bell foundry was kept going just on mamma's gifts. Besides, shewas often carried away by a sort of loving weakness for all the saintswho were not especially famous.

  "In her last years she devoted herself to 'launching' saints. Every onein the calendar who was little known, or of some unusual name, arousedin her the desire to repair a great injustice. She had their liveswritten, churches dedicated to them; and corresponded with the highdignitaries of Rome to push many a dead man, who had waited centuries invain for the hour when he should become a Saint."

  Lubimoff finally began to laugh at the resentful tone in which Aliciaspoke of her mother's mystic pleasures. Dona Mercedes was a great one!And finally she began to laugh likewise.

  "In that way all our income, which was enormous, was spent. She shouldhave left me a real fortune, unencumbered, in the bank. A lady thatspent so little on herself! And nevertheless, I had to pay out huge sumsfor all the orders she had contracted before her death. You can be surethe Monsignor and the rest of them are much richer than I."

  "How about your mines? And your lands in Mexico?"

  The Duchess repeated the same gesture of despair. It was as though theydid not exist! She was poor, absolutely poor.

  "You say you are ruined, and you haven't suffered from the moneyshortage for more than the last two years, perhaps less. I haven't seena cent of my fortune for some time before the war. Every one is talkingabout Russia, and Bolshevism, because it is something that concerns theOld World directly. But how about Mexico, and the situation there whichgoes back to the time when Europe was at peace?"

  Her lands had been lost as though they were so much personal property,that could be transported and hidden. An agrarian revolution, the echoesof which had scarcely reached the Old Continent, had swallowed them up,suppressing all traces of her former property rights. The half-breedshad divided them to suit themselves, to work them, or leave them moreunproductive than before. To whom could she appeal, if these lands werein provinces that were constantly changing hands, and the Mexicangovernment had no authority over them?

  The silver mines, which for three generations of Barrios had been thebasis of their fortune, were in a still worse situation.

  "One of the so-called 'Generals,' an Indian, has fortified himself inthe territory where my mines are, and from there he defies the rulers inthe Capital. They tell me that every month he takes out half a millionfrancs in silver bars. He cuts them up in disks, puts his stamp on themand makes money thus to pay his men. You can imagine he has plenty offollowers, with pure silver money, worth more than that of civilizedcountries! They will never be able to put him out; all he has to do tocreate armies for himself is to dig down into what belongs to me. Thisbad joke has gone on now for several years; I, who live in Europe,getting poorer and poorer every day, am paying for an endless war on theother side of the earth."

  In spite of the fact that the Prince had never taken care of his ownbusiness he wanted to give her some advice. She ought to go over thereand ask for assistance; she was born in the United States.

  "I've already seen to that," she replied. "I have some one in New Yorkwho looks after my affairs. But would they go to war just on my account?Perhaps I shall take the trip later. Not now: I haven't the strength.There is something that is bothering me terribly just now, and it wouldbe even worse if I were to leave France."

  Her eyes began to fill with tears. Her face contracted with anexpression of pain, and her hand moved toward her purse for ahandkerchief. Michael recalled the young man that Castro had beennoticing at Alicia's side during the last few years. Perhaps he was thecause of her emotion, and inability to make the trip.

  "Love!" he thought to himself. "Love, even now when she's growing old."

  He tried to change the conversation and asked about the Duke de Delille.He knew that he was at the front; and even thought he remembered areport of his being wounded in one of the early battles. Was he stillalive?

  In speaking of her husband, Alicia looked grave, to Michael's greatsurprise. Formerly she used to treat him with a certain scorn. He hadaccepted his wife's freedom, with all its consequences, in exchange foran enormous allowance. They lived apart, and although she found herindependence very sweet, she could not help but feel a sort of femininedislike for her accommodating husband, so little given to tragicjealousy. But at present her ideas seemed to have changed, and shespoke rapidly as though afraid of noticing Lubimoff smile as she used tosmile herself, in mentioning the Duke.

  "Yes; he joined the service. You know of course that he is some twentyyears older than I. He was exempted from bearing arms on account of hisage; but he remembered that he had been an officer in his youth, and wasone of the first to go. Who would have thought it of a man who didn'tseem to have any cares, and made fun of everything that didn't affecthis own selfish pleasures!"

  The Germans had picked him up in a dying condition during one of theirvictorious advances at the beginning of the war. He was covered withwounds. After two years as a prisoner they had exchanged him as useless,and he was living interned in Switzerland, with one arm gone.

  "Poor man! He writes me every month. He fishes in Lake Geneva, andthinks of me more than he ever thought before. His epistles are almostlove letters. What a transformation misfortune can make in a character.He says that he sees life from a different angle; and hopes that afterthe cataclysm, which will have made us better, we shall be able to cometogether again, and be happy. Oh, if only I could want to!..."

  Her tone was ironical as she spoke of this illusionary happiness, but atthe same time there was in it a note of respect and admiration. The Dukewhom she had known as a great dowry hunter, accommodating andunscrupulous, was forgotten. At present she saw in him only thewhite-haired warrior, the invalid, who according to the doctors, wouldnot live long, owing to the operations he had undergone. And she wastrying to keep up the exile's hopes, replying to his long letters, withbrief, affectionate notes.

  "So it's on account of your husband that you don't take the trip?"Michael asked, pretending that he was inquiring in good faith.

  Alicia was ruffled by such a supposition. Poor Delille! It was somethingelse that was troubling her. Her husband wasn't the only one who hadgone to war. There were others, who were younger, and had better reasonsto love life, but who had suffered the same fate. How many hidden griefsthere were these days!

  The Duchess's eyes moistened, and her eyes and lips frankly expressedher sorrow.

  "It's the little lover; there's no doubt of it," Michael said tohimself. "It's the young chap Castro saw."

  As though she read his thoughts and were anxious to switch them, Aliciabegan to talk once more about the reason for her visit, and about hersituation.

  The Prince nodded when she described to him her amazement at findingthat wealth was not something infinite and immutable, and that it wasslipping from her grasp ... slipping and slipping, without her beingable to do anything to avoid the gradual ruin.

  "I sold inopportunely; I took the money they cared to give me, withoutpaying any attention to the conditions. All my jewels went; I sold somein Paris, others here in this very place. You say you are ruined. No,you don't know what it means; but I know all right! I've beenshipwrecked longer than you; my boat was smaller. I don't want to boreyou with an account of my poverty. I haven't a house in Paris any more.I shall never go back there again, unless my affairs are straightenedout. The only house I have is a villa here, which I bought in the goodold days. Don't smile; there are two mortgages on it. Almost any daythey may put me out of it. It
was a very pleasant sort of house before,when I had money; but now, with everything so scarce on account of thewar! There's no coal, and wood is dear; it gets cold at night, and ittakes a fortune to keep the old furnace going. Besides, I haven't anyservants except my former lady's maid, the gardener, and his wife whodoes the cooking. For that reason all the rooms are closed, and Valeriaand I live our lives in two rooms on the first floor. We eat there, andsleep there. Valeria is a girl from Paris, a senorita whom I am'protecting.' Imagine how poor she must be if she trusts her future tome!"

  "But you gamble," said the Prince.

  Alicia seemed shocked at these words. They sounded like an accusation.

  "I play, but what can you expect me to do? I have to do something tokeep body and soul together, to earn my living. How else could a womanlike myself do it? I know what you're going to say to me: that I've losta great deal. True; I sold my pearl necklace here, the real one, and agreat many other jewels; I have lost large amounts, more than I care tothink of. But at that time I didn't know all I know to-day.... When asluck will have it, I haven't much money to play!"

  Lubimoff was astonished at the way this woman spoke in all seriousnessof her present adeptness.

  "Besides," she added in a tone of sadness, "what would become of me if Ididn't play? Surely you haven't forgotten how I was when we saw eachother last. You must have noticed certain tastes of mine."

  Michael recalled the invitation to smoke "the pipe," and the odor thatfilled the "study" in the palace on the Avenue du Bois.

  "I put a stop to all that: gambling and something else made me give itup. Now I think of it with disgust. That's why I live in Monte Carlo. Ihave a feeling deep down in my heart that fortune will come back insearch of me here, and nowhere else. Don't you play?"

  Michael was annoyed at this question. Hadn't he told her that he wasruined? Was he going to follow her example, and make his situation stillworse by losing the remnants of his fortune?

  "Ruined!" exclaimed Alicia. "Your hard times can't last long. ThisRussian business will finally be settled. The great powers have toolarge interests at stake there, not to take a hand in straighteningeverything out. It's this affair of mine that won't be arranged foryears. The only hope I have is to enjoy a run of luck in the Casino andwin some two or three hundred thousand francs, and, with that amount,wait for things to change."

  The Prince shrugged his shoulders. He knew gamblers. This woman,dominated by her wild dream, would forget the object of her visit, andgo raving on about the possible whims of fortune, like Spadoni, or likeCastro himself.

  "And what do you want of me?"

  Alicia seemed to wake up, and once more her smile became bold, andengaging, as it had been at the beginning of the interview; the smile ofa petitioner who comes with the firm determination to get what he wants.She had already told him at the very beginning what her object was; thatthe Prince's agent shouldn't bother her any more in regard to thatforgotten debt.

  "I shall pay it some day, if it is possible for me.... But you hadbetter count on my never paying it at all. Give it up as lost, and tellthat horrid gentleman not to write me any more."

  Michael, fascinated by the simple way in which this woman announced herextraordinary desire, imitated the tone of her voice.

  "Very well; I shall tell this horrid gentleman not to bother you; toforget you."

  And he laughed like a child, without paying any attention to the factthat his own interests were at stake. The only thing he thought of wasthe expression on the face of his solemn agent when he received such anorder.

  "I always thought you were kind and generous," she said. "Thanks,Michael! At times I have had a discussion with the 'General' about you,to convince her that you are a big hearted man."

  "Oh, so Dona Clorinda is an enemy of mine? Why I've never seen her!"

  "She's an extraordinary woman. In her eyes, every man who has a goodtime, and doesn't do wonderful things, is displeasing to her. Onlyyesterday we quarreled for good. Let's not talk about her. I havesomething more to ask of you."

  More? The Prince looked at her in astonishment, but Alicia hastened toadd that what she wanted was some advice.

  War had upset their modes of life with amazing rapidity. Social valueswere reversed: the fortunes that seemed most solid were crumbling.

  "Things will change, surely? It's impossible for this to last."

  "Yes it is impossible," he said gravely.

  Both of them seemed to be living in another world, surrounded by thesenseless visions of a nightmare. To think that they would have to worryof money, after it had been, up to that time, a natural part of theirexistence, much as sunlight, air, or water is for every one! To thinkthat they should find themselves obliged to pursue it in its flightthrough unknown ways! No, it wasn't logical; surely a passing whim ofdestiny. Their lives would again be the same as before, with theregularity of the laws of nature, which seem to swerve at times, butfinally return to their orderly predestined course.

  Being harder pressed, and having suffered economic hardships for alonger time, it was impossible for her to adopt the serenity with whichLubimoff accepted his momentary ruin.

  "Things will change, that's certain; but in the meantime, how can Ilive? You have just freed me from a moral burden by forgetting aboutthis debt. I thank you. But I must work, I want to earn some money! Whatis your advice?"

  He was astounded. What work could Alicia do? Her question was laughable.But there she was, gravely facing him, convinced of her determination towork, and expecting illuminating counsel, as though her fate depended onhim.

  Fortunately Alicia herself, unable to bear the silence, began to explainher own ideas on the subject. The topsy-turvy state of things at thepresent time justified the wildest plans. A great lady might adopt meansof support which some years previously would have caused a scandal. Sheknew a number of Russian ladies in Nice who used to give wonderfulparties in their drawing rooms before the war, and who at present,having been reduced to poverty, were devising schemes to earn theirliving in their own way. One was going to open a millinery shop, andcount on her former friendships to form a circle of customers. Anotherhad changed her villa on the Promenade des Anglais into a boardinghouse. She would admit only people of distinction. Allied officers, fromColonels up. She intended to treat her boarders like visitors, with allthe courtesy of a great lady receiving her guests; save that from now onevery day in the week would be her reception day.

  "What do you think of my turning my villa into a boarding house? Couldyou help me with a little money to renew the furniture, and buy whateveris lacking? Nothing but aristocratic guests; generals, and retiredambassadors who come here in quest of sunlight."

  The Prince replied with a burst of laughter.

  "Why, you're crazy. They would all make love to you. In a few weeks yourestablishment would be a regular inferno."

  Alicia, considering his observation quite accurate, did not insist anyfurther. The Russian lady in Nice was old and terrible looking comparedwith her. Besides, she thought it perfectly natural and logical that herguests should become enamored of her.

  The "General" had suggested another plan to her. She might open atea-room in Monte Carlo, a very elegant one. The attraction of seeingher at the counter would draw people. For this she would not need afinancial backer.

  Once more Lubimoff burst out laughing.

  "The Duchess de Delille's tea-room! That would be delightful; but oncepeople's curiosity had been satisfied the only customers you would havewould be those who were interested in your charms. No; that's notbusiness."

  She gave a look of somewhat comic dismay; what was she to do? A lady whois anxious for work can find no occupation in a world controlled andmonopolized by men. She had nothing to fall back on except gambling. Itwas an exciting pleasure which made her forget her worries, and at thesame time gave her hope. Each day with gambling she opened a window tofortune, in case it should deign to remember her. Who knows but whatsome time it might fold its golden wings and
alight on a Casino table,and allow Alicia's slender hands to caress it, like a tame eagle!

  "In the first few months of the war," she continued, "I didn't feel theneed of anything to distract my mind; the reality of what was happeningwas enough. What anguish I went through! But one gets used toeverything; the deepest emotions get monotonous if they are too longdrawn out. One can't live forever with one's nerves at a high tension.And this war is so long, and so tiresome! I might have had recourse tophilanthropic work to take my mind off my troubles; go into a hospital,and take care of the wounded. But I've never been clever at such things,and I don't want to make a nuisance of myself and be a hindrance, out ofpure vanity, like a great many other women. Besides, we are in the habitof giving orders, and always coming first, and no matter how deeply wemay feel the spirit of sacrifice, we finally leave, unable to endurefinding ourselves ordered about by more skillful and useful women, whohave previously been our inferiors. Take Clorinda for instance; she wasa nurse the first two years; she was one of the prettiest and mostinteresting with her white dress and her little blue cape. She isattracted by everything great; heroism, sacrifices, etc., but shefinally quarreled with her superiors and gave up her fine role."

  In gesture and facial expression Alicia seemed to be pitying her ownuselessness.

  "What could I do? I was reduced to worse and worse straits. In Paris mycreditors were right at my heels, constantly bothering me; that's why Icame to Monte Carlo, and gambled to forget, and to make a living. Thereis love, an old Academician, a friend of mine, said to me, with aselfish motive to be the first to make advantage of his advice. Justimagine: real passionate love, wholehearted love, as the only solutionfor the sorrows of life, and at such a time! Oh, if only I could! But Ifeel I'm old, two thousand years old. You are younger, but you cancount your life in centuries too. Love, for such as you and me!"

  At first Lubimoff smiled at the tone of irony and disenchantment inwhich she spoke. Yes, they were very old. The great remedies, useful forthe majority of people, had no effect on them. They, as it were, hadbecome insensible from satiety and weariness. Suddenly the Prince wasmoved by an indiscreet desire. He decided to take advantage of theopportunity to ask her a question that had often occurred to him.

  "Indeed," he said with masculine frankness, as though talking with acomrade, "you still believe in love? They told me about a boy, almost achild, whom you used to take everywhere before the war. Really, we arebeginning to get old," he added with a smile, "and feel we need thecontact of youth. Was he your lover? Is he the reason for your worries?"

  At these questions, the Duchess paled, and seemed to hesitate. Then shemade an effort to speak. It was evident that she was eager to besincere. But her pallor was followed by a wave of crimson. Twice shetried to say something, and finally, mastering her desire to talk, sheforced a mischievous smile.

  "Let's not talk about that. We each have a right to our secrets," shesaid.

  And to keep the Prince from relapsing into his curiosity, she went ontalking about gambling. But he was absorbed in his thoughts, and was notlistening to her. He had hit the nail on the head; that young striplingwas her lover, and she was suffering on his account. Perhaps he waswounded, or a prisoner. That was the great obstacle which stood in theway of her trip; which was keeping her pinned down in Europe, in thesuperstitious belief that we can ward off dangers better if we remainclose at hand. And she seemed very much in love! Here the Prince gavevent to a series of mental exclamations.

  "Forty years old, with a past that would fill a book! To feel such apowerful, such a youthful passion! Still to believe in love!"

  Michael looked at her with an expression that was almost one of hatred.Her passion for the boy annoyed him, without his being able to tell justwhy; perhaps because of the indignation which is always aroused bypeople who cling to some harmful lie, accepting it as truth andconsolation. Whatever the cause, her conduct annoyed him.

  This sudden feeling of hostility towards Alicia finally caused him topay attention once more to what she was saying.

  "If only I had as much money as I had before, when your mother was stillalive, and we used to live in Monte Carlo! But at that time I didn'tknow as much as I know to-day about gambling. I used to play just forexcitement, just to enjoy the sensation of losing, which, as a matter offact, didn't affect me very deeply. I used only chips for a thousandfrancs in betting. I thought it was beneath me so much as to touch anyothers; and besides, I never risked them one at a time. I always stakedthem in a row."

  "How much have you lost?"

  She shrugged her shoulders, and pursed her lips disdainfully.

  "Who could possibly know? I've been coming here for twelve years ormore. Even the people in the Casino wouldn't be able to calculate whatI've given them. In those days, I never used to keep any track of itmyself. When I needed money I telegraphed to Paris. Besides, I had yourmother; and I had my own, who usually gave in to my requests, in theend. I wouldn't like to know how much I've lost: it would make mefurious. It must be millions."

  The smile of commiseration with which Michael listened to her, seemed tomake her bolder.

  "But at that time I didn't know how to play! Now I must win, and I playin a different way. What I need is capital. If I only had a workingcapital!"

  This last expression changed his smile into frank laughter. "A workingcapital!" The Duchess would go on talking seriously about her "work."She lamented the slenderness of her means. Some thirty thousand francswas all the capital she had at her disposal. At times it dwindled inalarming fashion: the thirty thousand often shrunk to a single digit.Then the ciphers would reappear, and the product of her "work" expand,gradually rising above the thirty thousand; but this amount seemed to bethe fatal number for Alicia, for soon after reaching it her winningswould always fall to their usual level.

  "Last night I was lucky; I succeeded in winning fourteen thousandfrancs. But last week was bad. Sum total, I'm still at thirty thousand:impossible to get any farther. And I don't run any chances, I'm afraid,and don't take advantage of the good runs of luck I do have. I ought togo on doubling, and doubling. I'm afraid of losing it all on a singlestake. If I only had a working capital! If I were to go into the Casinosome afternoon with a hundred and fifty or two hundred thousand francs!That's the way to master luck. I ought to play big stakes. Imagine me,betting a hundred, and even as low as twenty franc chips, like a retiredmoney lender! That's the reason fortune doesn't notice me, and passes byon the other side."

  The Prince shook his head. He refused to help her with her follies.Wasn't it better to keep those thousands of francs, instead of losingthem in no time, as would happen when she was least expecting it?

  "You're not a gambler, I know," she said. "You have never felt attractedto that sort of pleasure. That's why you don't realize the mysteriouspower of the game, and give advice about something you don't understand.If I were to give up playing, I would feel my poverty at once; then Iwould be really poor. While you play, you always have money in yourhands; you win, and lose, but you never lack the necessities of life.And if you lose everything you can still get what you need to start inagain. I don't know how it is, but a gambler always has plenty of money.A single coin puts him on his feet again in five minutes. It's the poorman who doesn't play who goes around with empty pockets, without hope ormeans of improving his situation."

  Michael continued his mimicry of protest. That was all an old story tohim; it was the way Spadoni, and even Castro, talked, but with a certainadded fanaticism, characteristic of women, who, mystics in moneymatters, are always inclined to believe in presentiments and mysteriousinfluences.

  "Don't count on my helping you to gamble. Besides, I'm poor. At thepresent moment the Colonel must have less cash in the strong box thanyou. I'm almost tempted to ask you to loan me your thirty thousandfrancs."

  They both laughed at the idea of this loan. And she had come as a debtorto ask his aid!

  "I don't know what I can do for you; it's impossible for me to tell justw
hat my situation is; but I'll do what I can. Let's have hope: one mustbe patient. These times can't last."

  "No; they can't last."

  Again the thought of the ridiculousness of their being poor sounexpectedly, came over them. But was it logical to think that the worldwould go on in the same normal fashion after such radical divergencesfrom the natural order?

  They felt drawn together in the solidarity of misfortune; they suddenlymet, like brother and sister, fallen at the foot of a mountain peak, onthe heights of which they had previously avoided each other, rudelyclashing in uncontrollable hostility.

  At present Michael had a feeling of being attracted to her, for a reasonthat was absolutely novel. Since his youth he had hated the daughter ofDona Mercedes, for her pride, and for the air of overwhelmingsuperiority which she maintained even in those moments of love whennearly every woman freely humbles herself to take shelter in a man'sarms like a happy slave. She could give herself only with a manner ofhaughty condescension, as a haughty alms, much as a goddess might cometo a poor mortal.

  And now, seeing her come to him thus simply, to entreat his aid, withoutthe rancor of humiliated pride, hiding her fear with friendly merriment,desirous of forgetting the past, he felt all his old antipathy meltaway.

  He had always been a protector, a lover in the oriental fashion,incapable of caring for any women except those of his harem, who owedeverything to his munificence, from their slippers to the plumes intheir turbans, from the jewels that adorned their breasts, to thesweetmeats they ate, the pipes they smoked, and the musical instrumentswhich accompanied their songs. Alicia did not interest him as a woman;neither she nor any other! But he felt the sympathy of comradeship inseeing her in need of his protection; somewhat the same feeling that hehad towards Castro, the Colonel, and the other occupants of VillaSirena. He even thought to himself that misfortune was acceptable, solong as it tended to make people show their real character once more.This Alicia, so odious to him in early youth, might finally turn out tobe quite a good friend, now that she found herself freed from theinfluence of vanity and of her bad bringing up.

  "You have done enough just in receiving me here," she continued. "I knowthe limitation of my rights: I'm in hostile territory. This is the houseof 'The Enemies of Women.'"

  The Prince pretended not to hear her. Somebody had been talking; perhapsit was Castro, who could never keep anything from Dona Clorinda.

  They walked through the gardens. Alicia stopped suddenly in front of alittle piece of cultivated ground, where a few vegetables were beginningto spring from the soil.

  "This is where you work? I know you amuse yourself working in yourgarden, just as other Russian princes do by making shoes."

  So she knew this too? Oh, that tattle-tale rogue of a Castro!

  In the Greek garden, one of the marble benches supported by four wingedVictories attracted her attention, causing her to stop for a moment witha pensive expression on her face.

  "Do you remember the old man on the bench near the Trojan wall?" shesuddenly said.

  Michael did not know how to answer her question; but after a few momentshe remembered, as though her fixed stare communicated to him the visionof that night in which he had brutally left her.

  "How you laughed at me! What a fool I must have seemed! Yes: I wasunbearable. I was Venus; I was the center of the world; everything inexistence, people and things, had been created for my special benefit. Ifelt it was my mission to make the world endure my whims, and that theworld ought to thank me on its knees for paying any attention to it.What can you expect! It was youth, and the childish pride of ourSpringtime, which imagines itself eternal. And afterwards! If I were totell you all the disillusionments, and all the sorrows that Iexperienced, even back in the days when I didn't have to worry aboutmoney! Winter sweeps away all our fancies of Maytime!"

  "But you're not an old woman yet!" Michael exclaimed. "You still inspireromantic love in young men. You're fooling yourself or trying to makefun of me. There are still lots of men who, when they see you,would...."

  "Perhaps," she replied, "but you, my dear, are not one of them. Confessit; I've never pleased you."

  The Prince decided not to confess anything, and changed theconversation. These allusions to the past annoyed him. Alicia irritatedhim, every time she attempted to revive her charms as a siren of men.

  They wandered about for more than half an hour on the various gardenterraces. From time to time, in passing a clearing in the shrubbery,Michael cast a stealthy glance in the direction of the villa. No one wasat the windows; but he himself felt an inner agitation at this visit. Hewas sure they were spying on him. Atilio, from behind the windowcurtains, was undoubtedly following their promenade among the trees.Perhaps Spadoni, who had spent the night at Villa Sirena, was jumpingout of bed, and losing two hours of sleep, in order to contemplate thissurprising spectacle. Even Novoa might have stopped reading to look inthe direction of the garden.

  Alicia herself noticed the fact that no one was visible, neither guestnor servants. She and the Prince seemed to be walking through anenchanted park.

  As they went in the direction of the gate they met Don Marcos, who washurriedly coming out of the gardener's lodge.

  The Duchess held out her hand to Michael, who kissed it ceremoniously.

  "I hope we are to see each other again in the Casino."

  He shook his head. The gaming rooms bored him: he had no idea of goingthere.

  "I would have liked to meet you there. I'm sure you would bring meluck."

  For a moment she seemed undecided. She had no thought of returning toVilla Sirena, where there was no one but men: she was convinced that shewas a nuisance there.

  "Come and see me to-morrow. The Colonel knows where I live. Come, andwe'll have a laugh at the way the Duchess de Delille is living. It'srather interesting."

  She went over to the livery carriage which was waiting for her outsidethe gate. Before getting in she turned to urge him, in a tone of playfulthreat:

  "If you don't come, you'll never see me again. I shall think you want tobreak with me, that you think I'm a bore, and don't like me. I shallexpect you."

  As the carriage drove off, she waved farewell.

  "It was about time!" Michael exclaimed, on finding himself alone.

  It had been a visit of an hour and a half. It had kept him continuouslyat a nervous tension, weighing his words, and avoiding too great anexpression of friendliness, giving advice without any interestwhatsoever, and leaving the past in silence. He preferred the confidenceand lack of restraint of the conversations with his comrades.

  On thinking of the latter, his feeling of annoyance returned. How Castrowould smile, when he sat down at the table! He could hear his voicealready saying ironically: "No women!" And the first to appear had madehim as sheepishly obedient as a prior breaking the rule of the monasteryto receive a Queen.

  This worry caused him to speak to the Colonel, who was walking along athis side in silence, accompanying him from the gate to the house. Wherewas Castro?

  "In the library with Lord Lewis. His Lordship arrived while YourHighness was in the garden. He has come to lunch."

  He was a nice Englishman! He had taken it into his head of his ownaccord to choose this day, after so many futile invitations! While thatEnglishman was present, Castro would talk of nothing but gaming. AndMichael went in search of Lewis.

  The latter was the son of the great historian, whose country hadrewarded him with the title of lord. But this title was only to beinherited by the oldest son of the family, and no one but Toledo, whoalways exaggerated the importance of his friends, called the second son_Lord_ Lewis. He had been in Monte Carlo for twenty-five years, and theold employees in the Casino, seeing his bald head sadly bowed above thegaming tables, recalled the gentleman of former times, elegant, gay, andvigorous. He had come to the Riviera, on one of his Byronic"pilgrimages," and there he had remained, not caring to see any more ofthe world. The passion for gambling was the one inexhaustible pleas
urefor this man who had tried them all, and who was bored by the majority.

  The real Lord Lewis, a solemn person, who maintained the prestige of thefamily name, had several children, and had served his country in varioushigh positions in the Colonies. As for the Colonel's "Lord," he wasgradually losing all his former connections, and becoming a mere MonteCarlo gambler.

  "Twenty-five years!" he had remarked with sadness one day to the Prince."And I shall never be able to do anything else! It's too late now to geta fresh start. My life is ended, and they will bury me here, I'm sure;all that I inherited from my father, and all that several old aunts leftme will remain here. There have been times, when I saw things as theyare, and undertook to run away. But when I'm at a distance, I feelviolently indignant. I remember that I've dropped more than a millionhere, I think that I ought not to resign myself to the loss, and inorder to recover it, I come back at once to play, and lose again. Ishall go on doing like that until I die. Besides, there's thecastle...."

  Michael was acquainted with the castle. It was on a peak of the MaritimeAlps, in sight of Monte Carlo, near the village of La Turbie and theremains of the Trophy of Augustus which marks the ancient Roman road.

  During his first years of life on the Riviera, the aristocratic Lewishad bought for a few thousand francs the ruins of a lordly strongholdthat possessed the romantic tradition of having witnessed wars with theCounts of Provence, and scenes of family violence and murder. The son ofthe Historian, fonder of sport than of literature, considered it amatter of filial homage to reconstruct within sight of the Mediterraneana castle such as his father had described in telling the legends of hiscountry. Part of his fortune had gone into this. The rest had beendevoted to gambling. "With what I win," he used to say to himself, "Ishall finish the castle." And since he imagined he would win fabuloussums, he started the reconstruction on a gigantic scale, directing ithimself, according to the architectural fancies he had studied out fromthe drawings of Gustave Dore. The castle had remained half built,standing thus for many years. On the one side that was completed, thewalls displayed huge gloomy-looking windows with stained glass. On theside opposite, the timber of the scaffolding was rotting; the unfinishedwalls stood there meeting at right angles, and the wind and rain enteredthe future drawing rooms, for lack of a fourth wall to shut them off.They were open to the view like a stage setting.

  Whenever Lord Lewis' friends did not meet him in Monte Carlo it wasbecause he was out of money, and was staying in his castle, sadlycontemplating all that remained to be done. He lived in one of the wingsthat was most nearly completed, and passed the lonely hours in fightingwith his peasant neighbors, the market people, and with every one in thedistrict in fact, who considered it a duty to annoy him and exploit himin every possible way.

  Whenever a remittance of a thousand or two thousand pounds sterlingarrived from England, he proudly descended from his mountain to theCastle. He had a great aim in life, and he felt he must accomplish it.This time he was going to triumph! And when, after excitingfluctuations--his capital sometimes increasing, as though his hopes wereabout to be realized--he finally lost everything, Lewis would return tohis refuge on the heights, and to his hermit's life, in hopes of newremittances, which were less frequent and more difficult to get eachtime.

  The Prince had visited him once, in this new yet crumbling stronghold,to invite him on a long voyage on his yacht. But Lewis refused. He mustcontinue his duel with the Casino to get back his money; he was underobligation to finish his undertaking.

  The war had awakened him for a few weeks from the grip of his wilddream. His brother had died a few weeks before; but countless youngnephews still remained. They had given up their comforts and pleasuresin high society to offer their lives. Some of them, who were in thenavy, had embarked on small vessels, torpedo-boats and submarines,seeking the greatest dangers; others entered the army as officers. Aniece of his even, delicate in health, had been decorated on the firingline, for her sacrifices as a nurse.

  "And I, miserable selfish man that I am," he said, in talking with theColonel at the Casino, "go on being a mere Monte Carlo gambler. I oughtto be out there, where the men are, but I can't.... I can't! My days areover; I'm a corpse that eats and sleeps just to go on gambling. Add tothat the fact that some of my relatives, older than I am, are in thearmy!"

  At the age of fifty-four, the consciousness of his moral decay, and hiscontinual losses, had embittered his nature. Besides, the evenings thatluck was against him he kept going out to the Casino bar, seekinginspiration in one whisky after another gulped down in haste. Heavy set,with square shoulders, a small head, deep blue eyes and a red mustachestreaked with gray, he reminded Atilio somewhat of a wild boar, perhapsbecause of his aggressiveness and gruffness when he was in a bad humor.He gambled with his head sunk between his shoulders, his strong handsresting on the green baize, without looking at any one, and withoutallowing any one to talk to him, since it disturbed his calculations.The days when things were going wrong, and he was having arguments inregard to some doubtful play, with the employees or with those who weresitting near him at the tables, Lewis's outburst of rage broke thediscreet calm of the gaming rooms. He insulted the croupiers, invitingthem to step outside on the Square, while his biceps swelled like aprize fighter's. It was necessary to call one of the principaldirectors to pacify him with all the paternal considerations which asteady patron deserved.

  This man, who in his youth had believed in neither God nor devil, liveda constant prey to superstitions which were Castro's delight. Hedetested strange faces, feeling certain that they exercised on him anevil influence. It was enough that he should see one across the greentable, or behind his seat, to cause him to begin to growl in anundertone, until finally he would get up and go out to the bar, with theidea that a whisky taken in time would change his luck. His intimatefriend, the only one who could live with him for several days insuccession, was a French count, older than Lewis, and who was simplycalled by his title, as though he were nameless, or as though he werejust naturally "The Count." The latter never gambled, but he was ever sowise, in spite of the fact that many people considered him insane! Oneday, thirty years ago, he had stepped out of his house in Paris, sayingthat he was going out to buy some tobacco, and he had not yet returned.His wife had died without seeing him, and his children, and countlessgrand-children, who had been born and had grown up during his absence,were anxious that he should never finish making his purchase.

  While Lewis played, the Count, seated on a divan, quietly read somebook, without paying any attention to the curiosity of the public, whichstared at his long white hair brushed back, his enormous wild-lookingmustache, his round green eyes, gleaming with phosphorescence like thoseof a night hawk. Castro's curiosity was aroused by the Count's books.They were always new volumes of the sort that are never seen in any bookstore, and are published by obscure unknown firms; conscientioustreatises on the nectars and ambrosias of modern life--opium, cocaine,morphine, and ether--formulas by which one can enter into directcommunication with the mysterious powers--spirits, hobgoblins, andfamiliar demons--old books of magic brought to light by up-to-datesorcerers.

  He never deigned to give his friend advice as to gambling; his thoughtswere on higher things; but Lewis felt surer whenever he raised his eyesand saw him, by chance, reading in a corner. As long as he was there, healways won, or at least he did not lose much. His presence was enough toconjure the evil power of the infinite number of enemies which theEnglishman felt were surrounding the table. Besides, he was aware of theobject which the Count was fondling secretly with one hand, while hewent on reading.

  After he had had the misfortune to lose for several days in succession,Lewis would come to him, entreatingly:

  "Count, my dear Count, if you would please lend me your Satan's rosary!"

  The learned personage would look up, doubtful and hesitating. But sinceit was his best friend who asked for it, he would hand the rosary over,which meant that one of his hands would be left without anyt
hing to do.It was a rosary like any other, with large red beads and black ones tomark off the tens. The chief thing about it was the group of objectswhich hung in place of the missing cross: an ivory elephant picked up bythe Count in India, an authentic coin of the Emperor Constantine foundin the excavations at Anatolia, and another charm which even Lewis couldscarcely look upon without a sense of revulsion.

  Ill luck was vanquished. At times Lewis had lost while he was secretlytelling the beads of the diabolical rosary under the table; but healways lost less than when he was deprived of the marvelous talisman.He only cared to remember how one afternoon, aided by the obscenesacrilegious thing so highly prized he had succeeded in winning eightythousand francs.

  If he stopped winning it was the Count's fault. He was as fickle as acoquette. He would suddenly disappear, repeating the same unexplainableflight that had amazed his family. He never left Lewis to go and buytobacco; but if any of the books he bought told about some narcotic usedin Asia to enable one to see the future, or about a gypsy woman inGranada who could kill people by merely wishing and saying a few words,then off he would go, accepting as gospel truth the saying of someanonymous writer who had never been out of Paris. He never lacked moneyfor these mysterious trips: doubtless his family was interested inkeeping him at a distance. He might be three months or five years inreappearing. At last the rumor would reach Lewis that his friend wasliving in Nice or Cannes, and he would then write him frequently,inviting him to come over to Monte Carlo. He even used to go after himand the Count would allow himself to be brought back with his mysteriousbooks and his prodigious rosary, without ever saying a word about whatdiscoveries he had made on his trips.

  On seeing Lewis, after a year's absence, the Prince was obliged toconceal his surprise. Nothing save the clear, quiet, gentle eyes,recalled the vanished freshness of the athletic and elegant gentleman.He had grown thin in an alarming manner, with the emaciation of illness.His skull seemed to have shrunk, and across his baldness strayed the fewscattered ashen locks that still remained.

  A remark made by the Colonel came to his mind. Toledo had made a studyof the decadence of gamblers. It was when they reached the last limitsof depression and despair that they began to stoop, to shrivel up, andbecome wrinkled. Lewis' hat was getting too big for him; each day it satfarther down on his head until it rested on his ears. His shirt collarwas also getting larger, as though it were making room for his sorrowingheart to take flight.

  During the lunch, Lewis, Castro and Spadoni kept up the conversation.They talked about gambling and the Casino, but no one dared ask theEnglishman if he had been winning. He had a superstitious fear of thisquestion, as if it brought misfortune. On the other hand, he talkedabout other people's good luck, and the great stakes that had been wonin a night. He kept in his mind all that he had been told, and all thathe had imagined he had seen during twenty-five years of life at MonteCarlo. An American had gone away with a million; an Englishman had wonten thousand pounds sterling with five _louis_ that he had borrowed.Thus he went on talking about the wonders that had happened in theCasino. And after that could there still be people to assert that all,absolutely all, of the gamblers, lose in the end?

  With eyes that glistened with astonishment and greed, the pianistlistened to the tales of the "Dean of the Gamblers." Castro was moreskeptical. He had heard of these extraordinary winnings, and of manyothers, but had never witnessed a single one of them, although he hadbeen coming to Monte Carlo for a good many years. It was true that hehad seen as much as five hundred thousand francs won in a single night.But the next day things had changed, and the winner had lost all hisgains, and all the money he had brought, into the bargain, finally beingobliged to ask for the customary viaticum in order to be able to returnto his country.

  "I think," he said, "all these stories are invented by the advertisingdepartment of the Casino. They tell me they have engaged a popularnovelist, whose business it is to start a story like that every week, inorder to encourage the gamblers."

  The Prince smiled at this invention of his friend, but Lewis would notlisten to jokes on such a serious subject, and asserted that he hadwitnessed everything that he related. He was lying unconsciously inmaking this statement. In reality he had seen the same things as Atilio:people who won to lose later on; but he felt the need of thesupernatural and was inclined to believe everything in advance. He hadthe soul of a fanatic, who, when told of a miracle, affirms a few dayslater with sincerity: "I saw it with my own eyes."

  Every now and then the Prince would eye Castro, expecting to surprisesome ironic glance, something which would reveal his impressions inregard to the visit he had received that morning. Lewis' presence seemedto have obliterated all memory of anything unrelated to gambling.

  When the luncheon was over they talked in the hall, over their coffee,about those who played for big stakes in the private rooms. The names ofsome of them were spoken of with respect, as though they were masters,worthy of admiration.

  "So-and-so knows how to play," was the one comment.

  The amusing part of it for Michael was the fact that Lewis also figuredamong the masters "who knew how to play," and every one of them lost,like those who were "ignorant." Their one merit rested on their abilityto put off the hour of final ruin, and prolong the annihilating emotion,growing old like prisoners in the shadow of the rocky cliffs of thePrincipality.

  The Prince looked at Castro once more, as at a clever enemy who ishiding his thoughts. He ventured to ask a question.

  "And how does my relative, the Duchess de Delille, play?"

  Atilio looked at him, with not so much as a mischievous twinkle in hiseyes, surprised at the interest shown by the Prince. But before he couldreply, Lewis broke in with an answer. The latter hated women, especiallyat the gaming tables. They were only a nuisance, interrupting thecalculations of the men, with their nervous looks and gestures.

  "She plays like an idiot," he said brutally. "She plays like anywoman.... The money she's lost like a fool!"

  Castro intervened as though desiring the conversation to go no further.

  "How about the Count?" he asked Lewis. "Where is he? The Colonel is verymuch interested in him."

  Don Marcos gave an exclamation of surprise and reproach. He had formedhis own opinion of that person a long time ago. He was a crazy man! Hewould never forget the brief dialogue they had had one afternoon in theCasino, after Atilio had introduced them. On learning Toledo'snationality he had launched into a great eulogy of Spain. Oh, Spain!What an interesting language it had! And when the Colonel was about tothank him for his extreme politeness, he was dumbfounded by thefollowing remark, that took away his breath:

  "Because, as you probably know, Spanish is the preferred language of thedevil, after Latin. The most powerful charms are written in Spanish.What wonderful necromancers in Toledo! What learned sorcerers inSalamanca!"

  The old soldier who had fought for the Most Catholic king was alwaysgreatly disturbed when he thought of the Count and his rosary. For thisreason when Lewis declared that he had no idea of the whereabouts of hisfriend, he solemnly replied:

  "I know where he is: in a mad house."

  Suddenly the roar of a train was heard passing Villa Sirena, accompaniedby shouts and whistling. They were more Englishmen on their way toItaly.

  This caused them to take up the subject of the war. Lewis, who hadimbibed freely at the table, was overcome at once with an intensesadness, the talk of gambling having reminded him of the worthlessnessof his life. His intoxication was of the solemn, melancholy kind.

  "Two of my nephews died in the Jutland naval battle. Six of my brother'ssons were killed in France, in a single afternoon: they belonged to thesame battalion. They were all young, spirited, and anxious to dosomething. I'm the only man left in the family; I'm the worthless one,the old man, good for nothing. It's terrible!"

  No one said anything, realizing the shame and despair of this man, whoseemed to be weeping over the ruins of his aimless existence. Novoanodded sligh
tly, as though approving of his words.

  "My family is extinct. And there were so many young men in it! Life isstrange. Time goes by without anything extraordinary happening, and thenall of a sudden the hours are like months, the days like years, and in afew minutes things take place that usually require centuries. All dead!None left but my niece Mary, the nurse. She is here; her superiorsordered her away almost by force, to take a rest and recuperate. But,anxious to resume her service, she got away to Menton and Nice, wherethere are wounded men. If at least she would only marry! But it can'tbe: she will die like the rest. And I shall remain alone, and be a lord,the third Lord Lewis; Lord Lewis the Historian, Lord Lewis the ColonelGovernor, and Lord Lewis the Wastrel...."

  At this point they all stopped him in affectionate protest. Themisfortune of his family had been extraordinary, but he ought not totorture himself like that.

  "If you don't mind, Prince," said the Englishman, changing theconversation, "some day I shall bring my niece to let her see yourgardens. She is so fond of such things! She is the only one of thefamily to inherit my father's spirit."

  After saying that, Lewis showed signs of desiring to go. It wasnecessary for him to forget, and he knew where oblivion was waiting forhim. For a gambler like him, it was no more possible to sit still thanit would be for a drunkard who is thinking of a bar with its rows ofglasses. Castro and Spadoni exchanged several glances with him.

  "What do you say to dropping in at the Casino?" one of them proposed.

  And all three disappeared.

  The Colonel also left, and the Prince spent the remainder of theafternoon talking with Novoa, walking about the gardens, and looking atthe sunset. Finally, he sat down in the hall under a tall rose-shadedfloor lamp, to read.

  Castro returned alone, long before the dinner hour. He was sad; hewhistled occasionally. His smile was a savage grin. It had been a badafternoon. He had lost everything! The next day he would have to ask hisrelative for a fresh loan in order to return to his "work."

  Once more Michael felt compelled to talk to him about the call he hadreceived that morning. It was better to have a frank explanation andavoid ironical allusions.

  "Yes, I saw her," Castro said. "I watched you from a window while youwere walking through the gardens."

  The Prince looked at him, astonished at his brevity. Was that all he hadto say? At present he felt he would have preferred his joking.

  "What of it if she did come?" at last he said brusquely. "That'snatural; poor woman! I warn you that you've begun the conquest of anenemy."

  He had met "the General" in the Casino. She and Alicia had just hadanother reconciliation, and to seal their renewed friendship with afresh burst of confidence, the Duchess Delille had related her interviewwith the Prince.

  "Dona Clorinda used to be unable to stand you. She considered you afrivolous fellow, a worthless loafer. But now she praises you to theskies, because of your cancelling that enormous debt, and proposing tohelp the Duchess. She says you are like a knight of old times, and thatyou are big hearted."

  Michael shrugged his shoulders. A lot he cared what Dona Clorindathought! This exasperated Castro.

  "Why shouldn't your relatives come here?" he said sharply. "You'regetting bored living just among men all the time. You don't believe it,but it's true. It's the same with all of us. One has to talk with awoman from time to time, even if it's only out of friendship. What youclaimed when you came from Paris is impossible."

  "Perhaps you think I'm going to fall in love with Alicia?"

  And the Prince laughed for a long time, as though never tiring of seeingthe funny side of such an absurd supposition.

  "You'll find that out later on," Castro replied. "All I have to say isthat we can't live much longer as enemies of women. Look at theColonel: he's your 'Chamberlain,' your Aide, the man who obeys youblindly. Well, even he is deserting you. Just notice: whenever he can,he spends his time in the Porter's lodge. He has to talk to thegardener's daughter, a little brat he used to see crawling around on allfours, but who is sixteen now, and not bad looking. She worked in amillinery shop in Monte Carlo, but follows the styles like a youngsociety girl. The Colonel keeps her provided with high-heeled shoes,short skirts, tams, and smart hats, and buys her imitation amber beads.That's how he spends all the money you allow him to take for hisservices. Sometimes he follows her at a distance in the street, admiringher seductive outline and her ankles, much in evidence, and always insilk-stockings. He patiently cultivates his garden; and smiles like afool when he thinks of his future harvest."