The Count's Millions [37]
entreated me to leave this house. Her agitation astonished me. Now I understand it."
The gentleman known as the baron turned toward Madame d'Argeles: "Is what this man says true?"
She was greatly agitated, but she answered: "Yes."
"Why were you so anxious for him to go?"
"I don't know--a presentiment--it seemed to me that something was going to happen."
The least observant of the party could not fail to notice Madame d'Argeles's hesitation and confusion; but even the shrewdest were deceived. They supposed that she had seen the act committed, and had tried to induce the culprit to make his escape, in order to avoid a scandal.
Pascal saw he could expect no assistance from this source. "M. de Coralth could assure you," he began.
"Oh, enough of that," interrupted a player. "I myself heard M. de Coralth do his best to persuade you not to play."
So the unfortunate fellow's last and only hope had vanished. Still he made a supreme effort, and addressing Madame d'Argeles: "Madame," he said, in a voice trembling with anguish?" I entreat you, tell what you know. Will you allow an honorable man to be ruined before your very eyes? Will you abandon an innocent man whom you could save by a single word?" But she remained silent; and Pascal staggered as if some one had dealt him a terrible blow. "It is all over!" he muttered.
No one heard him; everybody was listening to the baron, who seemed to be very much put out. "We are wasting precious time with all this," said he. "We should have made at least five rounds while this absurd scene has been going on. We must put an end to it. What are you going to do with this fellow? I am in favor of sending for a commissary of police."
Such was not at all the opinion of the majority of the guests. Four or five of the ladies took flight at the bare suggestion and several men--the most aristocratic of the company--became angry at once. "Are you mad?" said one of them. "Do you want to see us all summoned as witnesses? You have probably forgotten that Garcia affair, and that rumpus at Jenny Fancy's house. A fine thing it would be to see, no one knows how many great names mixed up with those of sharpers and notorious women!"
Naturally of a florid complexion, the baron's face now became scarlet. "So it's fear of scandal that deters you! Zounds, sir! a man's courage should equal his vices. Look at me."
Celebrated for his income of eight hundred thousand francs a year, for his estates in Burgundy, for his passion for gaming, his horses, and his cook, the baron wielded a mighty influence. Still, on this occasion he did not carry the day, for it was decided that the "sharper " should be allowed to depart unmolested. "Make him at least return the money," growled a loser; "compel him to disgorge."
"His winnings are there upon the table."
"Don't believe it," cried the baron. "All these scoundrels have secret pockets in which they stow away their plunder. Search him by all means."
"That's it--search him!"
Crushed by this unexpected, undeserved and incomprehensible misfortune, Pascal had almost yielded to his fate. But the shameful cry: "Search him!" kindled terrible wrath in his brain. He shook off his assailants as a lion shakes off the hounds that have attacked him, and, reaching the fireplace with a single bound, he snatched up a heavy bronze candelabrum and brandished it in the air, crying: "The first who approaches is a dead man!"
He was ready to strike, there was no doubt about it; and such a weapon in the hands of a determined man, becomes positively terrible. The danger seemed so great and so certain that his enemies paused--each encouraging his neighbor with his glance; but no one was inclined to engage in this struggle, by which the victor would merely gain a few bank-notes. "Stand back, and allow me to retire?" said Pascal, imperiously. They still hesitated; but finally made way. And, formidable in his indignation and audacity, he reached the door of the room unmolested, and disappeared.
This superb outburst of outraged
The gentleman known as the baron turned toward Madame d'Argeles: "Is what this man says true?"
She was greatly agitated, but she answered: "Yes."
"Why were you so anxious for him to go?"
"I don't know--a presentiment--it seemed to me that something was going to happen."
The least observant of the party could not fail to notice Madame d'Argeles's hesitation and confusion; but even the shrewdest were deceived. They supposed that she had seen the act committed, and had tried to induce the culprit to make his escape, in order to avoid a scandal.
Pascal saw he could expect no assistance from this source. "M. de Coralth could assure you," he began.
"Oh, enough of that," interrupted a player. "I myself heard M. de Coralth do his best to persuade you not to play."
So the unfortunate fellow's last and only hope had vanished. Still he made a supreme effort, and addressing Madame d'Argeles: "Madame," he said, in a voice trembling with anguish?" I entreat you, tell what you know. Will you allow an honorable man to be ruined before your very eyes? Will you abandon an innocent man whom you could save by a single word?" But she remained silent; and Pascal staggered as if some one had dealt him a terrible blow. "It is all over!" he muttered.
No one heard him; everybody was listening to the baron, who seemed to be very much put out. "We are wasting precious time with all this," said he. "We should have made at least five rounds while this absurd scene has been going on. We must put an end to it. What are you going to do with this fellow? I am in favor of sending for a commissary of police."
Such was not at all the opinion of the majority of the guests. Four or five of the ladies took flight at the bare suggestion and several men--the most aristocratic of the company--became angry at once. "Are you mad?" said one of them. "Do you want to see us all summoned as witnesses? You have probably forgotten that Garcia affair, and that rumpus at Jenny Fancy's house. A fine thing it would be to see, no one knows how many great names mixed up with those of sharpers and notorious women!"
Naturally of a florid complexion, the baron's face now became scarlet. "So it's fear of scandal that deters you! Zounds, sir! a man's courage should equal his vices. Look at me."
Celebrated for his income of eight hundred thousand francs a year, for his estates in Burgundy, for his passion for gaming, his horses, and his cook, the baron wielded a mighty influence. Still, on this occasion he did not carry the day, for it was decided that the "sharper " should be allowed to depart unmolested. "Make him at least return the money," growled a loser; "compel him to disgorge."
"His winnings are there upon the table."
"Don't believe it," cried the baron. "All these scoundrels have secret pockets in which they stow away their plunder. Search him by all means."
"That's it--search him!"
Crushed by this unexpected, undeserved and incomprehensible misfortune, Pascal had almost yielded to his fate. But the shameful cry: "Search him!" kindled terrible wrath in his brain. He shook off his assailants as a lion shakes off the hounds that have attacked him, and, reaching the fireplace with a single bound, he snatched up a heavy bronze candelabrum and brandished it in the air, crying: "The first who approaches is a dead man!"
He was ready to strike, there was no doubt about it; and such a weapon in the hands of a determined man, becomes positively terrible. The danger seemed so great and so certain that his enemies paused--each encouraging his neighbor with his glance; but no one was inclined to engage in this struggle, by which the victor would merely gain a few bank-notes. "Stand back, and allow me to retire?" said Pascal, imperiously. They still hesitated; but finally made way. And, formidable in his indignation and audacity, he reached the door of the room unmolested, and disappeared.
This superb outburst of outraged