Zibelline | Page 4

time when betting had
not yet become a practice of the masses; and most of them felt highly
honored to rub elbows with a nobleman of ancient lineage, as was
Henri de Prerolles.
Among these persons was Andre Desvanneaux, whose father, a
churchwarden at Ste.-Clotilde, had attained a certain social prestige by
his good works, and Paul Landry, in his licentiate in a large banking
house in Paris. The last named was the son of a ship-owner at Havre,

and his character was ambitious and calculating. He cherished, under a
quiet demeanor, a strong hope of being able to supply, by the rapid
acquisition of a fortune, the deficiencies of his inferior birth, from
which his secret vanity suffered severely. Being an expert in all games
of chance, he had already accumulated, while waiting for some brilliant
coup, enough to lead a life of comparative elegance, thus giving a
certain satisfaction to his instincts. He and Henri de Prerolles never yet
had played cards together, but the occasion was sure to come some day,
and Paul Landry had desired it a long time.
The company, a little silent at first, was becoming somewhat more
animated, when a head-waiter, correct, and full of a sense of his own
importance, entered the salon, holding out before him with both hands
a large tray covered with slender glasses filled with a beverage called
"the cardinal's drink," composed of champagne, Bordeaux, and slices of
pineapple. The method of blending these materials was a professional
secret of the Freres-Provencaux.
Instantly the guests were on their feet, and Heloise, who had been
served first, proposed that they should drink the health of the Marquis,
but, prompted by one of her facetious impulses, instead of lifting the
glass to her own lips, she presented it to those of the waiter, and,
raising her arm, compelled him to swallow the contents. Encouraged by
laughter and applause, she presented to him a second glass, then a third;
and the unhappy man drank obediently, not being able to push away the
glasses without endangering the safety of the tray he carried.
Fanny Dorville interceded in vain for the victim; the inexorable duenna
had already seized a fourth glass, and the final catastrophe would have
been infallibly brought about, had not providence intervened in the
person of the call-boy, who, thrusting his head through the half-open
doorway, cried, shrilly:
"Ladies, they are about to begin!"
The two actresses hastened away, escorted by Andre Desvanneaux, a
modern Tartufe, who, though married, was seen everywhere, as much
at home behind the scenes as in church.

Coffee and liqueurs were then served in a salon adjoining the large
dining-room, which gave the effect of a private club-room to this part
of the restaurant.
Cigars were lighted, and conversation soon turned on feminine charms
and the performances of various horses, particularly those of
Franc-Comtois, the winner of the military steeplechase. This animal
was one of the products of the Prerolles stud, and was ordinary enough
on flat ground, but a jumper of the first rank.
At last the clock struck the half hour after eleven, and some of the
guests had already manifested their intention to depart, when Paul
Landry, who had been rather silent until then, said, carelessly:
"You expect to sleep to-night in Paris, no doubt, Monsieur de
Prerolles?"
"Oh, no," Henri replied, "I am on duty this week, and am obliged to
return to Vincennes early in the morning. So I shall stay here until it is
time for me to go."
"In that case, might we not have a game of cards?" proposed Captain
Constantin Lenaieff, military attache to the suite of the Russian
ambassador.
"As you please," said Henri.
This proposal decided every one to remain. The company returned to
the large dining-room, which, in the mean time, had been again
transformed into a gaming-hall, with the usual accessories: a frame for
the tally-sheet, a metal bowl to hold rejected playing-cards set in one
end of the table, and, placed at intervals around it, were tablets on
which the punter registered the amount of the stakes.
On reentering this apartment, Henri de Prerolles approached a sort of
counter, and, drawing from his pocket thirty thousand francs in
bank-notes, he exchanged them for their value in mother-of-pearl
"chips" of different sizes, representing sums from one to five, ten,

twenty-five, or a hundred louis. Paul Landry took twenty-five thousand
francs' worth; Constantin Unaieff, fifteen thousand; the others, less
fortunate or more prudent, took smaller sums; and about midnight the
game began.
CHAPTER III
THE GAME
It began quietly enough, the two principal players waiting, before
making any bold strokes, to see how the luck should run. The first
victory was in favor of Henri, who, at the end of a hand dealt by
Constantin Lenaieff,