A Start in Life [74]
and did not recognize the danseuse he had seen at the
Gaiete, in this lady, aristocratically decolletee and swathed in
laces, till she looked like the vignette of a keepsake, who received
him with manners and graces the like of which was neither in the
memory nor the imagination of a young clerk rigidly brought up. After
admiring the splendors of the apartment and the beautiful women there
displayed, who had all outdone each other in their dress for this
occasion, Oscar was taken by the hand and led by Florentine to a
vingt-et-un table.
"Let me present you," she said, "to the beautiful Marquise d'Anglade,
one of my nearest friends."
And she took Oscar to the pretty Fanny Beaupre, who had just made
herself a reputation at the Porte-Saint-Martin, in a melodrama
entitled "La Famille d'Anglade."
"My dear," said Florentine, "allow me to present to you a charming
youth, whom you can take as a partner in the game."
"Ah! that will be delightful," replied the actress, smiling, as she
looked at Oscar. "I am losing. Shall we go shares, monsieur?"
"Madame la marquise, I am at your orders," said Oscar, sitting down
beside her.
"Put down the money; I'll play; you shall being me luck! See, here are
my last hundred francs."
And the "marquise" took out from her purse, the rings of which were
adorned with diamonds, five gold pieces. Oscar pulled out his hundred
in silver five-franc pieces, much ashamed at having to mingle such
ignoble coins with gold. In ten throws the actress lost the two
hundred francs.
"Oh! how stupid!" she cried. "I'm banker now. But we'll play together
still, won't we?"
Fanny Beaupre rose to take her place as banker, and Oscar, finding
himself observed by the whole table, dared not retire on the ground
that he had no money. Speech failed him, and his tongue clove to the
roof of his mouth.
"Lend me five hundred francs," said the actress to the danseuse.
Florentine brought the money, which she obtained from Georges, who had
just passed eight times at ecarte.
"Nathan has won twelve hundred francs," said the actress to Oscar.
"Bankers always win; we won't let them fool us, will we?" she
whispered in his ear.
Persons of nerve, imagination, and dash will understand how it was
that poor Oscar opened his pocket-book and took out the note of five
hundred francs which Desroches had given him. He looked at Nathan, the
distinguished author, who now began, with Florine, to play a heavy
game against the bank.
"Come, my little man, take 'em up," cried Fanny Beaupre, signing to
Oscar to rake in the two hundred francs which Nathan and Florine had
punted.
The actress did not spare taunts or jests on those who lost. She
enlivened the game with jokes which Oscar thought singular; but
reflection was stifled by joy; for the first two throws produced a
gain of two thousand francs. Oscar then thought of feigning illness
and making his escape, leaving his partner behind him; but "honor"
kept him there. Three more turns and the gains were lost. Oscar felt a
cold sweat running down his back, and he was sobered completely.
The next two throws carried off the thousand francs of their mutual
stake. Oscar was consumed with thirst, and drank three glasses of iced
punch one after the other. The actress now led him into the bed-
chamber, where the rest of the company were playing, talking
frivolities with an easy air. But by this time the sense of his wrong-
doing overcame him; the figure of Desroches appeared to him like a
vision. He turned aside to a dark corner and sat down, putting his
handkerchief to his eyes, and wept. Florentine noticed the attitude of
true grief, which, because it is sincere, is certain to strike the eye
of one who acts. She ran to him, took the handkerchief from his hand,
and saw his tears; then she led him into a boudoir alone.
"What is it, my child?" she said.
Gaiete, in this lady, aristocratically decolletee and swathed in
laces, till she looked like the vignette of a keepsake, who received
him with manners and graces the like of which was neither in the
memory nor the imagination of a young clerk rigidly brought up. After
admiring the splendors of the apartment and the beautiful women there
displayed, who had all outdone each other in their dress for this
occasion, Oscar was taken by the hand and led by Florentine to a
vingt-et-un table.
"Let me present you," she said, "to the beautiful Marquise d'Anglade,
one of my nearest friends."
And she took Oscar to the pretty Fanny Beaupre, who had just made
herself a reputation at the Porte-Saint-Martin, in a melodrama
entitled "La Famille d'Anglade."
"My dear," said Florentine, "allow me to present to you a charming
youth, whom you can take as a partner in the game."
"Ah! that will be delightful," replied the actress, smiling, as she
looked at Oscar. "I am losing. Shall we go shares, monsieur?"
"Madame la marquise, I am at your orders," said Oscar, sitting down
beside her.
"Put down the money; I'll play; you shall being me luck! See, here are
my last hundred francs."
And the "marquise" took out from her purse, the rings of which were
adorned with diamonds, five gold pieces. Oscar pulled out his hundred
in silver five-franc pieces, much ashamed at having to mingle such
ignoble coins with gold. In ten throws the actress lost the two
hundred francs.
"Oh! how stupid!" she cried. "I'm banker now. But we'll play together
still, won't we?"
Fanny Beaupre rose to take her place as banker, and Oscar, finding
himself observed by the whole table, dared not retire on the ground
that he had no money. Speech failed him, and his tongue clove to the
roof of his mouth.
"Lend me five hundred francs," said the actress to the danseuse.
Florentine brought the money, which she obtained from Georges, who had
just passed eight times at ecarte.
"Nathan has won twelve hundred francs," said the actress to Oscar.
"Bankers always win; we won't let them fool us, will we?" she
whispered in his ear.
Persons of nerve, imagination, and dash will understand how it was
that poor Oscar opened his pocket-book and took out the note of five
hundred francs which Desroches had given him. He looked at Nathan, the
distinguished author, who now began, with Florine, to play a heavy
game against the bank.
"Come, my little man, take 'em up," cried Fanny Beaupre, signing to
Oscar to rake in the two hundred francs which Nathan and Florine had
punted.
The actress did not spare taunts or jests on those who lost. She
enlivened the game with jokes which Oscar thought singular; but
reflection was stifled by joy; for the first two throws produced a
gain of two thousand francs. Oscar then thought of feigning illness
and making his escape, leaving his partner behind him; but "honor"
kept him there. Three more turns and the gains were lost. Oscar felt a
cold sweat running down his back, and he was sobered completely.
The next two throws carried off the thousand francs of their mutual
stake. Oscar was consumed with thirst, and drank three glasses of iced
punch one after the other. The actress now led him into the bed-
chamber, where the rest of the company were playing, talking
frivolities with an easy air. But by this time the sense of his wrong-
doing overcame him; the figure of Desroches appeared to him like a
vision. He turned aside to a dark corner and sat down, putting his
handkerchief to his eyes, and wept. Florentine noticed the attitude of
true grief, which, because it is sincere, is certain to strike the eye
of one who acts. She ran to him, took the handkerchief from his hand,
and saw his tears; then she led him into a boudoir alone.
"What is it, my child?" she said.