The Strollers Part 38

The city, bustling and animated by day, like an energetic housewife, was at night a gay demoiselle, awakening to new life and excitement.

The clerk betook himself to his bowling or billiards and the mechanic to the circus, while beauty and fas.h.i.+on repaired to the concert room or to the Opera Francais, to listen to Halevy or Donizetti. Restless Americans or Irishmen rubbed elbows with the hurrying Frenchman or Spaniard, and the dignified creole gentleman of leisure alone was wrapped in a plenitude of dignity, computing probably the interest he drew on money loaned these a.s.siduous foreigners.

Soldiers who had been granted leave of absence or had slipped the guard at the camp on Andrew Jackson's battle-ground swaggered through the streets. The change from a diet of pork and beans and army hard tack was so marked that Uncle Sam's young men threw restraint to the winds, took the mask b.a.l.l.s by storm and gallantly a.s.sailed and made willing prisoners of the fair s.e.x. Eager to exchange their irksome life in camp for the active campaign in Mexico, it was small wonder they relieved their impatience by many a valiant dash into the hospitable town.

Carriages drove by with a rumble and a clatter, revealing a fleeting glimpse of some beauty with full, dark eye. Venders of flowers importuned the pa.s.sers-by, doing a brisk business; the oyster and coffee stands reminded the spectator of a thoroughfare in London on a Sat.u.r.day night, with the people congregating about the street stalls; but the brilliantly illumined places of amus.e.m.e.nt, with their careless patrons plainly apparent to all from without, resembled rather a boulevard scene in the metropolis of France. "Probably," says a skeptical chronicler, "here and there are quiet drawing-rooms, and tranquil firesides, where domestic love is a chaste, presiding G.o.ddess." But the writer merely presumes such might have been the case, and it is evident from his manner of expression, he offers the suggestion, or afterthought, charitably, with some doubts in his mind.

Certainly he never personally encountered the chaste G.o.ddess of the hearth, or he would have qualified his words and made his statement more positive.

From the life of the streets, the land baron turned into a well-lighted entrance, pa.s.sing into a large, luxuriously furnished saloon, at one end of which stood a table somewhat resembling a roulette board.

Seated on one side was the phlegmatic cas.h.i.+er, and, opposite him, the dealer, equally impa.s.sive. Unlike faro--the popular New Orleans game--no deal box was needed, the dealer holding the cards in his hand, while a cavity in the center of the table contained a basket, where the cards, once used, were thrown. A large chandelier cast a brilliant light upon the scene.

"_Messieurs, faites vos jeux_," drawled the monotonous voice of the dealer, and expectation was keenly written on the faces of the double circle of players--variously disclosed, but, nevertheless, apparent in all; a transformation of the natural expression of the features; an obvious nervousness of manner, or where the countenance was impa.s.sive, controlled by a strong will, a peculiar glitter of the eyes, betokening the most insatiable species of the gambler. As the dealer began to shuffle together six packs of cards and place them in a row on the table, he called out:

"Nothing more goes, gentlemen!"

The rapidity with which the cas.h.i.+er counted the winnings at a distance and shoved them here and there with the long rake was amazing and bewildering to the novice risking a few gold pieces for the first time on the altar of chance. Sorting the gold pieces in even bunches, the cas.h.i.+er estimated them in a moment; shoved them together; counted an equal amount of fives with his fingers; made a little twirl in the pile on the table; pushed it toward the winning pieces and left them tumbled up together in pleasing confusion.

"_Messieurs, faites vos_--"

And the clinking went on, growing louder and louder, the clinking of gold, which has a particularly musical sound, penetrating, crystalline as the golden bells of Exodus, tinkling in the twilight of the temple on the priest's raiment. The clinking, clinking, that lingers in the brain long after, drawing the players to it night after night; an intoxicating murmur, singing the desires that dominate the world; the jingling that makes all men kin!

"Oh, dear!" said a light feminine voice, as the rapacious rake unceremoniously drew in a poor, diminutive pile of gold. "Why did I play? Isn't it provoking?"

"You have my sympathy, Mistress Susan," breathed a voice near her.

Looking around, she had the grace to blush becomingly, and approached Mauville with an expressive gesture, leaving Adonis and Kate at the table.

"Don't be shocked, Mr. Mauville," she began, hurriedly. "We were told it was among the sights, and, having natural curiosity--"

"I understand. Armed with righteousness, why should not one go anywhere?"

"Why, indeed?" she murmured.

"But I'm afraid I'm taking you from your play?"

"I'm not going to play any more to-night."

"Tired, already?"

"No; but--but I haven't a cent. That miserable table has robbed me of everything. All I have left"--piteously--"are the clothes on my back."

"Something must have been the matter with your 'system.' But if a temporary loan--"

Susan was tempted, gazing longingly at the table, with the fever burning in her.

"No," she said, finally. "I _think_ I would win, but, of course, I _might_ lose."

"A wise reservation! Never place your fortune on the hazard of the die."

"But I have! What's the use of making good resolutions now? It's like closing the barn-door after--"

"Just so!" he agreed. "But it might have been worse."

"How?" In dismay. "Didn't that stony-looking man rake in my last gold piece? He didn't even look sorry, either. But what is the matter with your arm?" The land baron's expression became ominous. "You shook hands with your left hand. Oh, I see; the duel!" Lightly.

"How did you hear about it?" asked Mauville, irritably.

"Oh, in a roundabout way. Murder will out! And Constance--she was so solicitous about Mr. Saint-Prosper, but rather proud, I believe, because he"--with a laugh--"came off victorious."

Susan's prattle, although accompanied by innocent glances from her blue eyes, was sometimes the most irritating thing in the world, and the land baron, goaded beyond endurance, now threw off his careless manner and swore in an undertone by "every devil in Satan's calendar."

"Can you not reserve your soliloquy until you leave me?" observed Susan, sweetly. "Otherwise--"

"I regret to have shocked your ladys.h.i.+p," he murmured, satirically.

"I forgive you." Raising her guileless eyes. "When I think of the provocation, I do not blame you--so much!"

"That is more than people do in your case," muttered the land baron savagely.

Susan's hand trembled. "What do you mean?" she asked, not without apprehension regarding his answer.

"Oh, that affair with the young officer--the lad who was killed in the duel, you know--"

Her composure forsook her for the moment and she bit her lip cruelly.

"Don't!" she whispered. "I am not to blame. I never dreamed it would go so far! Why should people--"

"Why?" he interposed, ironically.

Susan pulled herself together. "Yes, why?" she repeated, defiantly.

"Can women prevent men from making fools of themselves any more than they can prevent them from amusing themselves as they will? To-day it is this toy; to-morrow, another. At length"--bitterly--"a woman comes to consider herself only a toy."

Her companion regarded her curiously. "Well, well!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, finally. "Losing at cards doesn't agree with your temper."

"Nor being worsted by Saint-Prosper with yours!" she retorted quickly.

Mauville looked virulent, but Susan, feeling that she had retaliated in ample measure, recovered her usual equanimity of temper and placed a conciliatory hand sympathetically on his arm.

"We have both had a good deal to try us, haven't we? But how stupid men are!" she added suddenly. "As if you could not find other consolation!"

He directed toward her an inquiring glance.

"Some time ago, while I was acting in London," resumed Susan, thoughtfully, "the leading lady refused to receive the attentions of a certain odious English lord. She was to make her appearance in a piece upon which her reputation was staked. Mark what happened! She was hissed! Hissed from the stage! My lord led this hostile demonstration and all his hired claqueurs joined in. She was ruined; ruined!"

concluded Susan, smiling amiably.

"You are ingenious, Mistress Susan--not to say a trifle diabolical.

Your plan--"

She opened her eyes widely. "I have suggested no plan," she interrupted, hurriedly.