The Enemies of Women Part 39

The pianist was beginning to display a certain somnolence in his looks and in his voice. Mere winning seemed something insipid to him, after the flight of that admirable Greek. Similarly other famous gamblers had disappeared, as though not caring to authenticate by their presence such an absurd run of luck. The only real compet.i.tors were some English people from Beaulieu, whose automobiles were waiting below. This extraordinary game interested them, as though it were some unusual sport; they were anxious to fight against the Bank's good luck, with British tenacity, merely for the pleasure of overcoming it. The women, bony and distinguished looking, with very low necks and long trails to their gowns, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed "oh!" in amazement, each time the _croupier_ with his rake carried off their heavy bets, while the men drew from inner pockets of their Tuxedos, new handfuls of bills, greeting their defeat with metallic laughter.

In one blow Spadoni lost twenty thousand francs. Lubimoff had the fatal presentiment of a sailor who feels beneath his feet the shudder of the s.h.i.+p about to be torn open, of the soldier who feels instinctively the beginning of his rout.

Another blow; and the bank lost again.

Michael cautiously drew near the chair occupied by Alicia.

"It is two o'clock. It is time to go home," he murmured, whispering his words into her hair as he bent over her. "You are going to have a run of bad luck: I can feel it coming. Tell Spadoni to get up."

She raised her eyes and looked at him in surprise. She seemed intoxicated, unable to make out what he was saying, and showed her refusal by a slight shake of her head. She had faith in her own luck.

Fortune saw to it that her confidence was justified. The banker was winning again, carrying off all the sums placed on both sides of the table. But this did not convince the Prince. He continued to feel afraid, and his worry made him brutal.

He went over and stood at Spadoni's back, in order to drop a word to him discreetly, while looking in another direction. "You ought to stop at once. Call the game off. It's long after closing time anyhow."

The banker turned his face and looked up at him in order to see what sage was dropping these words of wisdom from on high. "Oh, your Highness!" This discovery was accompanied by a proud smile, evincing satisfaction that Prince Lubimoff should have witnessed the greatest deed of his life.

And he went on dealing.

Michael grew angry. This idiot, overwhelmed by his triumph, did not understand him, and if he did understand him, he was refusing to obey.

The voice of the Prince, falling with a slow tremor, reached the ears of the man below. "Spadoni, you incredible fool of a pianist"--here two or three oaths in various languages.--If Spadoni did not obey him at once he would jerk him out of the chair with a thud, and give him a kick that would send him flying through the windows!

"The last deal!" said the banker.

And when he stopped dealing, many of the spectators breathed freely, satisfied and relieved by the end of a game that seemed to have been under an evil spell. Others gazed with astonishment and envy at the enormous heap of money in the bank, as the _croupier_ put it in order, forming bundles of bills, and straightening the various colored chips in columns.

The sum ran from mouth to mouth: four hundred and ninety-four thousand francs! A little more and it would have been half a million. Rarely had such a rapid winning been seen.

Spadoni, as though he were the master of these riches, was putting them into a little wicker basket. He was trembling with emotion. He was going to walk through the crowd of onlookers carrying this treasure, just as on former nights he had seen his hero pa.s.s, with the air of a conqueror.

In comparison with this what did he care for the applause he had received as a pianist!

But eager hands s.n.a.t.c.hed the basket from him.

"No! let me! let me!" It was the d.u.c.h.ess; it was no longer necessary any more for her to claim indifference. That money was hers. She had become transfigured by coming out of her eager trance-like silence. Her eyes were s.h.i.+ning with a triumphant gleam, her brow was pearled with sweat, her cheeks, which were intensely pale, quivered. Carrying the basket, with her arms held out before her, she slowly pa.s.sed among the groups, with priestly majesty, walking in the direction of the cas.h.i.+er's cage.

Spadoni remained beside the Prince. He, too, was perspiring, and his features were pale with emotion.

"What a night, Your Highness! What a night!"

He looked proudly at every one, but smiled humbly at the owner of Villa Sirena. He must make the Prince forget his refusal of moments before, and the terrible threats which had been visited upon it.

A moment later Alicia returned to them, carrying a paper in her hand-bag.

The pianist's enthusiasm overflowed.

"Oh, d.u.c.h.ess! Divine d.u.c.h.ess!"

He kissed one of her bare arms, then a shoulder. Alicia smiled at this public homage. The poor pianist, no matter what he might do, could not compromise her.

"Thanks, Spadoni, you may count on my grat.i.tude. Go ahead and decide what you want, a house, a yacht, or perhaps a piano with golden keys."

Michael listened in amazement. She was speaking in all sincerity: as though her fortune had turned her mind.

But the pianist left them. He felt he must be alone. By the d.u.c.h.ess'

side he was obliged to share his glory, contenting himself with but a fragment of it. And he went off to join the English people from Beaulieu, who, proclaiming him the most interesting phenomenon they had met in all their travels, were anxious to meet and share a bottle of champagne with him.

Alicia and the Prince walked toward the cloak room.

"I have deposited my winnings with the cas.h.i.+er of the Club," she said, showing him the receipt. "I am not going to carry so much money home at night. To-morrow I shall come to take it to the bank. I need some one to accompany me. Send me the Colonel: he is a fighter and must have a revolver."

Then, remembering something important, her features took on a grave look.

"I need not say that to-morrow we will straighten our account. Don't think I have forgotten what I owe you: the twenty thousand francs from the other day, and your mother's three hundred thousand. It will all be paid."

Michael showed the astonishment which this promise caused him by a prolonged laugh. Really, her winning had affected her brain. A piano with golden keys for the other man, and now hundreds of thousands of francs for him. The fortune recently acquired in two hours seemed to her as extraordinary and limitless as her good luck itself had been.

"What I want," he added, in a low tone, ceasing to laugh, "what I want from you, you know very well."

She stopped him with a caressing look and a discreet whisper which was equivalent to a promise.

They descended the large stairway in the Club, and were standing in the vestibule, she wrapped in a silk cape embroidered with gold and adorned with rich furs, which recalled her evenings after the opera in Paris; he, with his overcoat open and a soft silk-lined hat on his head.

The employees in the vestibule, informed of what had happened in the gambling rooms, hurried to the gla.s.s door in a hope of a handsome tip.

"A carriage for the d.u.c.h.ess!"

But she wanted to walk in the silence of the night. She was numbed from remaining motionless so long, and felt the need, like every one who feels happy, of prolonging the joy of her triumph by a long walk.

She descended the outer stairway leaning on Michael's arm. They pa.s.sed between the drivers and the few chauffeurs who were standing about in groups, waiting for the owners of their machines, or for possible patrons.

They went down into the cool night air, with their eyes still tired, from the splendor of the illumination, their skins hot from the heavy atmosphere of the gaming rooms. They both noticed that it was a moonlight night, with a sad, waning moon that was beginning to drop behind the dark barrier of the Alps. The submarine menace kept the city in darkness. At long intervals, pale lamps, the gla.s.s of which was painted blue, cast above themselves a narrow circle of funereal light.

After a few steps, they grew accustomed to the darkness. In the street the ground was divided into two bands, one a pale, dim white reflected from the dying moon, the other dark, with the heavy black shade of ebony. Instinctively, they walked along the dark sidewalk, as though afraid of being seen. They wound along through a curving, sloping street, the same that made its way underground by the Pompeian corridor and which the Prince had taken a few hours before.

At their backs they could still hear the conversations of the drivers hidden by a turn in the street, the voices of the Club servants calling by the owners' names for the carriages; the stamping of the horses, shaking off sleep as they waited, and the first humming of the motors that began once more to function. Michael, who was walking along in silence, with a desire to get away from there as soon as possible and seek absolute solitude, on seeing her pause, was obliged to stop. She had antic.i.p.ated his thoughts: she did not care to go any farther.

"I must reward you!" she murmured. "I told you that at any event you would gain by coming, even though I should lose. There ... there."

Her bare arms, freeing themselves from the silken cape, closed about his shoulders, forming a tight ring; submissively her mouth sought his, humbly abandoning itself, with a desire of giving happiness.

At the end of the street a sudden illumination flared up, making the scene stand out against the shadows, like a flash of lightning. It was the searchlight of an automobile. She did not move, she was not afraid of being surprised: people were mere phantoms, without any reality whatsoever. Nothing existed in the world at that moment save themselves and the heap of paper bills, and pieces of ivory guarded in the steel vault.

All his life Michael remembered that night. The clocks were doubtless mad, turning like his head, which seemed in a whirl, following the rhythm of sweet music. He had a feeling that they pa.s.sed the same place several times, going back and forth as they walked, without knowing what they were doing. What difference did it make? The important thing was that they were together. There was a moment in which they both seemed to awaken, finding themselves seated on a bench, in the Casino Square. The Prince was sure of it. He had looked at the clock on the facade. It was three o'clock! It seemed impossible, he firmly believed that only a few minutes had pa.s.sed since they left the Club. And they were obliged to walk away, annoyed by the curiosity of a civilian who was doing police duty in war time, a member of the Prince's militia in citizen's clothes, with a colored band on his arm and a revolver at his belt.

Once more they walked through the deserted streets or along the public gardens, closed at that hour. Her body was thrown back, with her cape open, she was hanging limp upon his arm which was thrown about her waist, and she offered a tensely drawn throat and an upturned face to a rain of kisses. She looked up at her companion, with eyes dreamy with love. Her caresses rose slowly and voluptuously in a crescendo, as sea flowers and stars arise from the blue depths in search of light.

Replying to the mute appeal of the eyes that were imploring from above, she murmured several times, in a faraway voice, as though talking in a dream:

"Yes, all you wish ... all you wis.h.!.+"