In the Days of My Youth: A Novel

by Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards

  CHAPTER XLIX.

  THE KING OF DIAMONDS.

  The rain beat in my face and almost blinded me, the wind hustled me; thegendarme at the corner of the street looked at me suspiciously; andstill I followed, and still the tall stranger strode on ahead. Up onestreet he led me and down another, across a market-place, through anarcade, past the Bourse, and into that labyrinth of small streets thatlies behind the Italian Opera-house, and is bounded on the East by theRue de Richelieu, and on the West by the Rue Louis le Grand. Here heslackened his pace, and I found myself gaming upon him for the firsttime. Presently he came to a dead stop, and as I continued to drawnearer, I saw him take out his watch and look at it by the light of astreet-lamp. This done, he began sauntering slowly backwards andforwards, as if waiting for some second person.

  For a moment I also paused, hesitating. What should I do?--pass himunder the lamp, and try to see his face? Go boldly up to him, and inventsome pretence to address him, or wait in this angle of deep shade, andsee what would happen next? I was deceived, of course--deceived by amerely accidental resemblance. Well, then, I should have had my run formy pains, and have taken cold, most likely, into the bargain. At allevents, I would speak to him.

  Seeing me emerge from the darkness, and cross over towards the spotwhere he was standing, he drew aside with the air of a man upon hisguard, and put his hand quickly into his breast.

  "I beg your pardon, Monsieur," I began.

  "What! my dear Damon!--is it you?" he interrupted, and held out bothhands.

  I grasped them joyously.

  "Dalrymple, is it you?"

  "Myself, Damon--_faute de mieux_."

  "And I have been running after you for the last two miles! What bringsyou to Paris? Why did you not let me know you were here? How long haveyou been back? Has anything gone wrong? Are you well?"

  "One question at a time, my Arcadian, for mercy's sake!" said he. "Whicham I to answer?"

  "The last."

  "Oh, I am well--well enough. But let us walk on a little farther whilewe talk."

  "Are you waiting for any one?" I asked, seeing him look round uneasily.

  "Yes--no--that is, I expect to see some one come past here presently.Step into this doorway, and I will tell you all about it."

  His manner was restless, and his hand, as it pressed mine, felt hot andfeverish.

  "I am sure you are not well," I said, following him into the gloom of adeep, old-fashioned doorway.

  "Am I not? Well, I don't know--perhaps I am not. My blood burns in myveins to-night like fire. Nay, thou wilt learn nothing from my pulse,thou sucking AEsculapius! Mine is a sickness not to be cured by drugs. Imust let blood for it."

  The short, hard laugh with which he said this troubled me still more.

  "Speak out," I said--"for Heaven's sake, speak out! You have somethingon your mind--what is it?"

  "I have something on my hands," he replied, gloomily. "Work. Work thatmust be done quickly, or there will be no peace for any of us. Lookhere, Damon--if you had a wife, and another man stood before the worldas her betrothed husband--if you had a wife, and another man spoke ofher as his--boasted of her--behaved in the house as if it were alreadyhis own--treated her servants as though he were their master--possessedhimself of her papers--extorted money from her--brought his friends, onone pretext or another, about her house--tormented her, day after day,to marry him ... what would you do to such a man as this?"

  "Make my own marriage public at once, and set him at defiance," Ireplied.

  "Ay, but...."

  "But what?"

  "That alone will not content me. I must punish him with my own hand."

  "He would be punished enough in the loss of the lady and her fortune."

  "Not he! He has entangled her affairs sufficiently by this time toindemnify himself for her fortune, depend on it. And as forherself--pshaw! he does not know what love is!"

  "But his pride----"

  "But _my_ pride!" interrupted Dalrymple, passionately. "What of mypride?--my wounded honor?--my outraged love? No, no, I tell you, it isnot such a paltry vengeance that will satisfy me! Would to Heaven I hadtrusted only my own arm from the first! Would to Heaven that, instead ofhaving anything to say to the cursed brood of the law, I had taken theviper by the throat, and brought him to my own terms, after myown fashion!"

  "But you have not yet told me what you are doing here?"

  "I am waiting to see Monsieur de Simoncourt."

  "Monsieur de Simoncourt!"

  "Yes. That white house at the corner is one of his haunts,--a privategaming-house, never open till after midnight. I want to meet himaccidentally, as he is going in."

  "What for?"

  "That he may take me with him. You can't get into one of these placeswithout an introduction, you know. Those who keep them are too muchafraid of the police."

  "But do you play?"

  "Come with me, and see. Hark! do you hear nothing?"

  "Yes, I hear a footstep. And here comes a man."

  "Let us walk to meet him, accidentally, and seem to be talking."

  I took Dalrymple's arm, and we strolled in the direction of the newcomer. It was not De Simoncourt, however, but a tall man with a grizzledbeard, who crossed over, apprehensively, at our approach, but recrossedand went into the white house at the corner as soon as he thought usout of sight.

  "One of the gang," said Dalrymple, with a shrug of his broad shoulders."We had better go back to our doorway, and wait till the rightman comes."

  We had not long to wait. The next arrival was he whom we sought. Westrolled on, as before, and came upon him face to face.

  "De Simoncourt, by all that's propitious!" cried Dalrymple.

  "What--Major Dalrymple returned to Paris!"

  "Ay, just returned. Bored to death with Berlin and Vienna--no place likeParis, De Simoncourt, go where one will!"

  "None, indeed. There is but one Paris, and pleasure is the true profitof all who visit it."

  "My dear De Simoncourt, I am appalled to hear you perpetrate a pun! Bythe way, you have met Mr. Basil Arbuthnot at my rooms?"

  M. de Simoncourt lifted his hat, and was graciously pleased to rememberthe circumstance.

  "And now," pursued Dalrymple, "having met, what shall, we do next? Haveyou any engagement for the small hours, De Simoncourt?"

  "I am quite at your disposal. Where were your bound for?"

  "Anywhere--everywhere. I want excitement."

  "Would a hand at _ecarte_, or a green table, have any attraction foryou?" suggested De Simoncourt, falling into the trap as readily as onecould have desired.

  "The very thing, if you know where they are to be found!"

  "Nay, I need not take you far to find both. There is in this very streeta house where money may be lost and won as easily as at the Bourse.Follow me."

  He took us to the white house at the corner, and, pressing a springconcealed in the wood-work of the lintel, rung a bell of shrill andpeculiar _timbre_. The door opened immediately, and, after we hadpassed in, closed behind us without any visible agency. Still followingat the heels of M. de Simoncourt, we then went up a spacious staircasedimly lighted, and, leaving our hats in an ante-room, enteredunannounced into an elegant _salon_, where some twenty or thirty_habitues_ of both sexes had already commenced the business of theevening. The ladies, of whom there were not more than half-a-dozen, wereall more or less painted, _passees_, and showily dressed. Among the menwere military stocks, ribbons, crosses, stars, and fine titles inabundance. We were evidently supposed to be in very brilliantsociety--brilliant, however, with a fictitious lustre that betrayed thetinsel beneath, and reminded one of a fashionable reception on theboards of the Haymarket or the Porte St. Martin. The mistress of thehouse, an abundant and somewhat elderly Juno in green velvet, with aprofusion of jewelry on her arms and bosom, came forward to receive us.

  "Madame de Sainte Amaranthe, permit me to present my friends, MajorDalrymple and Mr. Arbuthnot," said De Simoncourt, imprinting a gallantkiss on
the plump hand of the hostess.

  Madame de Ste. Amaranthe professed herself charmed to receive anyfriends of M. de Simoncourt; whereupon M. de Simoncourt's friends wereenchanted to be admitted to the privilege of Madame de Ste. Amaranthe'sacquaintance. Madame de Ste. Amaranthe then informed us that she was thewidow of a general officer who fell at Austerlitz, and the daughter of arich West India planter whom she called her _pere adore_, and to whosesupposititious memory she wiped away an imaginary tear with anembroidered pocket-handkerchief. She then begged that we would makeourselves at home, and, gliding away, whispered something in DeSimoncourt's ear, to which he replied by a nod of intelligence.

  "That harpy hopes to fleece us," said Dalrymple, slipping his armthrough mine and drawing me towards the roulette table. "She has justtold De Simoncourt to take us in hand. I always suspected the fellowwas a Greek."

  "A Greek?"

  "Ay, in the figurative sense--a gentleman who lives by dexterity atcards."

  "And shall you play?"

  "By-and-by. Not yet, because--"

  He checked himself, and looked anxiously round the room.

  "Because what?"

  "Tell me, Arbuthnot," said he, paying no attention to my question; "do_you_ mind playing?"

  "I? My dear fellow, I hardly know one card from another."

  "But have you any objection?"

  "None whatever to the game; but a good deal to the penalty. I don't mindconfessing to you that I ran into debt some months back, and that...."

  "Nonsense, boy!" interrupted Dalrymple, with a kindly smile. "Do yousuppose I want you to gamble away your money? No, no--the fact is, thatI am here for a purpose, and it will not do to let my purpose besuspected. These Greeks want a pigeon. Will you oblige me by being thatpigeon, and by allowing me to pay for your plucking?"

  I still hesitated.

  "But you will be helping me," urged he. "If you don't sit down, I must."

  "You would not lose so much," I expostulated.

  "Perhaps not, if I were cool and kept my eyes open; but to-night I am_distrait_, and should be as defenceless as yourself."

  "In that case I will play for you with pleasure."

  He slipped a little pocket-book into my hand.

  "Never stake more than five francs at a time," said he, "and you cannotruin me. The book contains a thousand. You shall have more, ifnecessary; but I think that sum will last as long as I shall want you tokeep playing."

  "A thousand francs!" I exclaimed. "Why, that is forty pounds!"

  "If it were four hundred, and it answered my purpose," said Dalrymple,between his teeth, "I should hold it money well spent!"

  At this moment De Simoncourt came up, and apologized for having left usso long.

  "If you want mere amusement, Major Dalrymple," said he, "I suppose youwill prefer _roulette_ to _ecarte_!"

  "I will stake a few pieces presently on the green cloth," repliedDalrymple, carelessly; "but, first of all, I want to initiate my youngfriend here. As to double _ecarte_, Monsieur de Simoncourt, I needhardly tell you, as a man of the world, that I never play it withstrangers."

  De Simoncourt smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.

  "Quite right," said he. "I believe that here everything is really _debonne foi_; but where there are cards there will always be danger. Formy part, I always shuffle the pack after my adversary!"

  With this he strolled off again, and I took a vacant chair at the longtable, next to a lady, who made way for me with the most gracious smileimaginable. Only the players sat; so Dalrymple stood behind me andlooked on. It was a green board, somewhat larger than an ordinarybilliard-table, with mysterious boundaries traced here and there inyellow and red, and a cabalistic table of figures towards each end. Acouple of well-dressed men sat in the centre; one to deal out the cards,and the other to pay and receive the money. The one who had themanagement of the cash wore a superb diamond ring, and a red and greenribbon at his button-hole. Dalrymple informed me in a whisper that thisnoble seigneur was Madame de Ste. Amaranthe's brother.

  As for the players, they all looked serious and polite enough, as ladiesand gentlemen should, at their amusement. Some had pieces of card, whichthey pricked occasionally with a pin, according to the progress of thegame. Some had little piles of silver, or sealed _rouleaux_, lyingbeside them. As for myself, I took out Dalrymple's pocket-book, and laidit beside me, as if I were an experienced player and meant to break thebank. For a few minutes he stood by, and then, having given me someidea of the leading principles of the game, wandered away to observe theother players.

  Left to myself, I played on--timidly at first; soon with moreconfidence; and, of course, with the novice's invariable good-fortune.My amiable neighbor drew me presently into conversation. She had atheory of chances relating to averages of color, and based upon abewildering calculation of all the black and red cards in the pack,which she was so kind as to explain to me. I could not understand a wordof it, but politeness compelled me to listen. Politeness also compelledme to follow her advice when she was so obliging as to offer it, and Ilost, as a matter of course. From this moment my good-luck deserted me.

  "Courage, Monsieur," said my amiable neighbour; "you have only to playlong enough, and you are sure to win."

  In the meantime, I kept following Dalrymple with my eyes, for there wassomething in his manner that filled me with vague uneasiness. Sometimeshe drew near the table and threw down a Napoleon, but without heedingthe game, or caring whether he won or lost. He was always looking to thedoor, or wandering restlessly from table to table. Watching him thus, Ithought how haggard he looked, and what deep channels were furrowed inhis brow since that day when we lay together on the autumnal grass underthe trees in the forest of St. Germain.

  Thus a long time went by, and I found by my watch that it was nearlyfour o'clock in the morning--also that I had lost six hundred francs outof the thousand. It seemed incredible. I could hardly believe that thetime and the money had flown so fast. I rose in my seat and looked roundfor Dalrymple; but in vain. Could he be gone, leaving me here?Impossible! Apprehensive of I knew not what, I pushed back my chair, andleft the table. The rooms were now much fuller--more stars andmoustachios; more velvets and laces, and Paris diamonds. Fresh tables,too, had been opened for _lansquenet, baccarat_, and _ecarte_. At one ofthese I saw M. de Simoncourt. When he laid down his cards for the deal,I seized the opportunity to inquire for my friend.

  He pointed to a small inner room divided by a rich hanging from thefarther end of the _salon_.

  "You will find Major Dalrymple in Madame de Ste. Amaranthe's boudoir,playing with M. le Vicomte de Caylus," said he, courteously, andresumed his game.

  Playing with De Caylus! Sitting down amicably with De Caylus! I couldnot understand it.

  Crowded as the rooms now were, it took me some time to thread my wayacross, and longer still, when I had done so, to pass the threshold ofthe boudoir, and obtain sight of the players. The room was very small,and filled with lookers-on. At a table under a chandelier sat De Caylusand Dalrymple. I could not see Dalrymple's face, for his back was turnedtowards me; but the Vicomte I recognised at once--pale, slight, refined,with the old look of dissipation and irritability, and the samerestlessness of eye and hand that I had observed on first seeing him.They were evidently playing high, and each had a pile of notes and goldlying at his left hand. De Caylus kept nervously crumbling a note in hisfingers. Dalrymple sat motionless as a man of bronze, and, except tothrow down a card when it came to his turn, never stirred a finger.There was, to my thinking, something ominous in his exceeding calmness.

  "At what game are they, playing?" I asked a gentleman near whom I wasstanding.

  "At _ecarte_," replied he, without removing his eyes from the players.

  Knowing nothing of the game, I could only judge of its progress by thefaces of those around me. A breathless silence prevailed, except whensome particular subtlety in the play sent a murmur of admiration roundthe room. Even this was hushed almost as soon as uttered. Grad
ually theinterest grew more intense, and the bystanders pressed closer. De Caylussighed impatiently, and passed his hand across his brow. It was his turnto deal. Dalrymple shuffled the pack. De Caylus shuffled them afterhim, and dealt. The falling of a pin might have been heard in the pausethat followed. They had but five cards each. Dalrymple played first--aqueen of diamonds. De Caylus played the king, and both threw down theircards. A loud murmur broke out instantaneously in every direction, andDe Caylus, looking excited and weary, leaned back in his chair, andcalled for wine. His expression was so unlike that of a victor that Ithought at first he must have lost the game.

  "Which is the winner?" I asked, eagerly. "Which is the winner?"

  The gentleman who had replied to me before looked round with a smile ofcontemptuous wonder.

  "Why, Monsieur de Caylus, of course," said he. "Did you not see him playthe king?"

  "I beg your pardon," I said, somewhat nettled; "but, as I said before, Ido not understand the game."

  "_Eh bien_! the Englishman is counting out his money."

  What a changed scene it was! The circle of intent faces broken andshifting--the silence succeeded by a hundred conversations--De Caylusleaning back, sipping his wine and chatting over his shoulder--the cardspushed aside, and Dalrymple gravely sorting out little shining columnsof Napoleons, and rolls of crisp bank paper! Having ranged all thesebefore him in a row, he took out his check-book, filled in a page, toreit out and laid it with the rest. Then, replacing the book in hisbreast-pocket, he pushed back his chair, and, looking up for the firsttime since the close of the game, said aloud:--

  "Monsieur le Vicomte de Caylus, I have this evening had the honor oflosing the sum of twelve thousand francs to you; will you do me thefavor to count this money?"

  M. de Caylus bowed, emptied his glass, and languidly touching eachlittle column with one dainty finger, told over his winnings as thoughthey were scarcely worth even that amount of trouble.

  "Six rouleaux of four hundred each," said he, "making two thousand fourhundred--six notes of five hundred each, making three thousand--and anorder upon Rothschild for six thousand six hundred; in all, twelvethousand. Thanks, Monsieur ... Monsieur ... forgive me for notremembering your name."

  Dalrymple looked up with a dangerous light in his eyes, and took nonotice of the apology.

  "It appears to me, Monsieur le Vicomte Caylus," said he, giving theother his full title and speaking with singular distinctness, "that youhold the king very often at _ecarte_."

  De Caylus looked up with every vein on his forehead suddenly swollen andthrobbing.

  "Monsieur!" he exclaimed, hoarsely.

  "Especially when you deal," added Dalrymple, smoothing his moustachewith utter _sang-froid_, and keeping his eyes still riveted upon hisadversary.

  With an inarticulate cry like the cry of a wild beast, De Caylus sprungat him, foaming with rage, and was instantly flung back against thewall, dragging with him not only the table-cloth, but all the wine,money, and cards upon it.

  "I will have blood for this!" he shrieked, struggling with those whorushed in between. "I will have blood! Blood! Blood!"

  Stained and streaming with red wine, he looked, in his ghastly rage, asif he was already bathed in the blood he thirsted for.

  Dalrymple drew himself to his full height, and stood looking on withfolded arms and a cold smile.

  "I am quite ready," he said, "to give Monsieur le Vicomte fullsatisfaction."

  The room was by this time crowded to suffocation. I forced my waythrough, and laid my hand on Dalrymple's arm.

  "You have provoked this quarrel," I said, reproachfully.

  "That, my dear fellow, is precisely what I came here to do," he replied."You will have to be my second in this affair."

  Here De Simoncourt came up, and hearing the last words, drew me aside.

  "I act for De Caylus," he whispered. "Pistols, of course?"

  I nodded, still all bewilderment at my novel position.

  "Your man received the first blow, so is entitled to the first shot."

  I nodded again.

  "I don't know a better place," he went on, "than Bellevue. There's afamous little bit of plantation, and it is just far enough from Paris tobe secure. The Bois is hackneyed, and the police are too much about it.

  "Just so," I replied, vaguely.

  "And when shall we say? The sooner the better, it always seems to me, inthese cases."

  "Oh, certainly--the sooner the better."

  He looked at his watch.

  "It is now ten minutes to five," he said. "Suppose we allow them fivehours to put their papers in order, and meet at Bellevue, on theterrace, at ten?"

  "So soon!" I exclaimed.

  "Soon!" echoed De Simoncourt. "Why, under circumstances of suchexceeding aggravation, most men would send for pistols and settle itacross the table!"

  I shuddered. These niceties of honor were new to me, and I had beenbrought up to make little distinction between duelling and murder.

  "Be it so, then, Monsieur De Simoncourt," I said. "We will meet you atBellevue, at ten."

  "On the terrace?"

  "On the terrace."

  We bowed and parted. Dalrymple was already gone, and De Caylus, stillwhite and trembling with rage, was wiping the wine from his face andshirt. The crowd opened for me right and left as I went through the_salon_, and more than one voice whispered:--

  "He is the Englishman's second."

  I took my hat and cloak mechanically, and let myself out. It was broaddaylight, and the blinding sun poured full upon my eyes as I passed intothe street.

  "Come, Damon," said Dalrymple, crossing over to me from the oppositeside of the way. "I have just caught a cab--there it is, waiting roundthe corner! We've no time to lose, I'll be bound."

  "We are to meet them at Bellevue at ten," I replied.

  "At ten? Hurrah! then I've still five certain hours of life before me!Long enough, Damon, to do a world of mischief, if one were so disposed!"