My Little Lady | Page 7

me if I make her wait."
The dancers whirled on; the room grew hotter and hotter. M. Linders had disappeared, and Graham began to think that he too had had almost enough of it all, and that it would be pleasant to seek peace and coolness in the deserted moonlit courtyard. He was watching for a pause in the waltz that would admit of his crossing the room, when his attention was attracted by the same little girl he had seen that morning in the garden. She was still dressed in the shabby old frock and pinafore, and as she came creeping in, threading her way deftly amongst the young ladies in starched muslins and gay ribbons who were fluttering about, she made the effect of a little brown moth who had strayed into the midst of a swarm of brilliant butterflies. No one took any notice of her, and she made her way up to the large round table which had been pushed into the far corner of the room, and near which Graham was standing.
"Do you want anything?" he asked, as he saw her raise herself on tiptoe, and stretch forward over the table.
"I want that," she said, pointing to a miniature roulette board, which stood in the middle, beyond the reach of her small arm.
He gave it to her, and then stood watching to see what she would do with it. She set to work with great deliberation; first pulling a handful of sugar-plums out of her pocket, and arranging them in a little heap at her side on the table, and then proceeding with much gravity to stake them on the numbers. She would put down a bonbon and give the board a twirl; "_ving-cinq_," she would say; the ball flew round and fell into a number; it might be ten, or twenty, or twenty- five, it did not much matter; she looked to see what it was, but right or wrong, never failed to eat the bonbon--an illogical result, which contrasted quaintly with the intense seriousness with which she made her stakes. Sometimes she would place two or three sugar-plums on one number, always naming it aloud--"_trente-et-un_," "_douze-premier_," "_douze- après_." It was the oddest game for a small thing not six years old; and there was something odd, too, in her matter-of-fact, business-like air, which amused Graham. He had seen gambling- tables during his three weeks' visit to Germany, and he felt sure that this child must have seen them too.
"Eh! What an insupportable heat!" cried a harsh high-pitched voice behind him. "Monsieur Jules, I will repose myself for a few minutes, if you will have the goodness to fetch me a glass of _eau sucrée. Je n'en peux plus!_"
Graham, recognizing the voice, turned round, and saw the Countess G---- leaning on the arm of a young man with whom she had been dancing.
"But it is really stifling!" she exclaimed, dropping into an arm-chair by the table as her partner retired. "Monsieur does not dance, apparently," she continued, addressing Horace. "Well, you are perhaps right; it is a delightful amusement, but on a night like this---- Ah! here is little Madelon. I have not seen you before to-day. How is it you are not dancing?"
"I don't want to," answered the child, giving the roulette- board a twirl.
"But that is not at all a pretty game that you have there," said the Countess, shaking her head; "it was not for little girls that Mademoiselle Cécile placed the roulette-board there. Where is your doll? why are you not playing with her?"
"My doll is in bed; and I like this best," answered the child indifferently. "_Encore ce malheureux trente-six! Je n'ai pas de chance ce soir!_"
"But little girls should not like what is naughty: and I think it would be much better if you were in bed too. Come, give me that ugly toy; there is Monsieur quite shocked to see you playing with it."
Madelon looked up into Horace's face with her wide-open gaze, as if to verify this wonderful assertion; and apparently satisfied that it had been made for the sake of effect, continued her game without making any reply.
"Oh, then, I really must take it away," said the Countess; "allons, be reasonable, _ma petite;_ let me have that, and go and dance with the other little boys and girls."
"But I don't want to dance, and I like to play at this," cries Madelon with her shrill little voice, clutching the board with both her small hands, as the Countess tried to get possession of it; "you have no right to take it away. Papa lets me play with it; and I don't care for you! Give it me back again, I say; _je le veux, je le veux!_"
"No, no," answered the Countess, pushing it beyond Madelon's reach