Hearts and Masks | Page 3

the card. It was the ten-spot of hearts. I considered this most propitious; hearts being my long suit in everything but love,--love having not yet crossed my path. I put the card in my wallet, and was about to toss the rest of the pack under the table, when, a woman's voice stayed my hand.
"Don't throw them away. Tell my fortune first."
I looked up, not a little surprised. It was the beautiful young girl who had spoken. She was leaning on her elbows, her chin propped in her palms, and the light in her grey chatoyant eyes was wholly innocent and mischievous. In Monsieur Mouquin's cellar people are rather Bohemian, not to say friendly; for it is the rendezvous of artists, literary men and journalists,--a clan that holds formality in contempt.
"Tell your fortune?" I repeated parrot-like.
"Yes."
"Your mirror can tell you that more accurately than I can," I replied with a frank glance of admiration.
She drew her shoulders together and dropped them. "I spoke to you, sir, because I believed you wouldn't say anything so commonplace as that. When one sees a man soberly shuffling a pack of cards in a place like this, one naturally expects originality."
"Well, perhaps you caught me off my guard,"--humbly.
"I am original. Did you ever before witness this performance in a public restaurant?"--making the cards purr.
"I can not say I have,"--amused.
"Well, no more have I!"
"Why, then, do you do it?"--with renewed interest.
"Shall I tell your fortune?"
"Not now. I had much rather you would tell me the meaning of this play."
I leaned toward her and whispered mysteriously: "The truth is, I belong to a secret society, and I was cutting the cards to see whether or not I should blow up the post-office to-night or the police-station. You mustn't tell anybody."
"Oh!" She started back from the table. "You do not look it," she added suddenly.
"I know it; appearances are so deceptive," said I sadly.
Then the old man laughed, and the girl laughed, and I laughed; and I wasn't quite sure that the grave waiter did not crack the ghost of a smile--in relief.
[Illustration: The handsomest girl I had set eyes upon in a month of moons.]
"And what, may I ask, was the fatal card?" inquired the old man, folding his paper.
"The ace of spades; we always choose that gloomy card in secret societies. There is something deadly and suggestive about it," I answered morbidly.
"Indeed."
"Yes. Ah, if only you knew the terrible life we lead, we who conspire! Every day brings forth some galling disappointment. We push a king off into the dark, and another rises immediately in his place. Futility, futility everywhere! If only there were some way of dynamiting habit and custom! I am a Russian; all my family are perishing in Siberian mines,"--dismally.
"Fudge!" said the girl.
"Tommy-rot!" said the amiable old gentleman.
"Uncle, his hair is too short for an anarchist."
"And his collar too immaculate." (So the old gentleman was this charming creature's uncle!)
"We are obliged to disguise ourselves at times," I explained. "The police are always meddling. It is discouraging."
"You have some purpose, humorous or serious," said the girl shrewdly. "A man does not bring a pack of cards--"
"I didn't bring them; I sent out for them."
"--bring a pack of cards here simply to attract attention," she continued tranquilly.
"Perhaps I am a prestidigitator in a popular dime-museum," I suggested, willing to help her out, "and am doing a little advertising."
"Now, that has a plausible sound," she admitted, folding her hands under her chin. "It must be an interesting life. Presto--change! and all that."
"Oh, I find it rather monotonous in the winter; but in the summer it is fine. Then I wander about the summer resorts and give exhibitions."
"You will pardon my niece," interpolated the old gentleman, coughing a bit nervously. "If she annoys you--"
"Uncle!"--reproachfully.
"Heaven forfend!" I exclaimed eagerly. "There is a charm in doing unconventional things; and most people do not realize it, and are stupid."
"Thank you, sir," said the girl, smiling. She was evidently enjoying herself; so was I, for that matter. "Do a trick for me," she commanded presently.
I smiled weakly. I couldn't have done a trick with the cards,--not if my life had depended upon it. But I rather neatly extricated myself from the trap.
"I never do any tricks out of business hours."
"Uncle, give the gentleman ten cents; I want to see him do a sleight-of-hand trick."
Her uncle, readily entering into the spirit of the affair, dived into a pocket and produced the piece of silver. It looked as if I were caught.
"There! this may make it worth your while," the girl said, shoving the coin in my direction.
But again I managed to slide under; I was not to be caught.
"It is my regret to say,"--frowning slightly, "that regularity in my business is everything. It wants half an hour for my turn to