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Pelham — Complete

Page 19

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton


  CHAPTER XIX.

  Alea sequa vorax species certissima furti Non contenta bonis, animumquoque perfida mergit;--Furca, furax--infamis, iners, furiosa, ruina.Petrarch: Dial.

  I dined the next day at the Freres Provencaux; an excellentrestaurateur's, by-the-by, where one gets irreproachable gibier, andmeets no English. After dinner, I strolled into the various gamblinghouses, with which the Palais Royal abounds.

  In one of these, the crowd and heat were so great, that I shouldimmediately have retired if I had not been struck with the extremeand intense expression of interest in the countenance of one of thespectators at the rouge et noir table. He was a man about forty yearsof age; his complexion was dark and sallow; the features prominent, andwhat are generally called handsome; but there was a certain sinisterexpression in his eyes and mouth, which rendered the effect of hisphysiognomy rather disagreeable than prepossessing. At a small distancefrom him, and playing, with an air which, in its carelessness andnonchalance, formed a remarkable contrast to the painful anxiety of theman I have just described, sate Mr. Thornton.

  At first sight, these two appeared to be the only Englishmen presentbesides myself; I was more struck by seeing the former in that scene,than I was at meeting Thornton there; for there was something distinguein the mien of the stranger, which suited far worse with the appearanceof the place, than the bourgeois air and dress of my ci-devant second.

  "What! another Englishman?" thought I, as I turned round and perceiveda thick, rough great coat, which could possibly belong to no continentalshoulders. The wearer was standing directly opposite the seat of theswarthy stranger; his hat was slouched over his face; I moved in orderto get a clearer view of his countenance. It was the same person I hadseen with Thornton that morning. Never to this moment have I forgottenthe stern and ferocious expression with which he was gazing upon thekeen and agitated features of the gambler opposite. In the eye andlip there was neither pleasure, hatred, nor scorn, in their simple andunalloyed elements; but each seemed blent and mingled into one deadlyconcentration of evil passions.

  This man neither played, nor spoke, nor moved. He appeared utterlyinsensible of every feeling in common with those around. There he stood,wrapt in his own dark and inscrutable thoughts, never, for one instant,taking his looks from the varying countenance which did not observetheir gaze, nor altering the withering character of their almostdemoniacal expression. I could not tear myself from the spot. I feltchained by some mysterious and undefinable interest; my attention wasfirst diverted into a new channel, by a loud exclamation from thedark visaged gambler at the table; it was the first he had uttered,notwithstanding his anxiety; and, from the deep, thrilling tone inwhich it was expressed, it conveyed a keen sympathy with the overchargedfeelings which it burst from.

  With a trembling hand, he took from an old purse the few Napoleons thatwere still left there. He set them all at one hazard, on the rouge. Hehung over the table with a dropping lip; his hands were tightly claspedin each other; his nerves seemed strained into the last agony ofexcitation. I ventured to raise my eyes upon the gaze, which I felt muststill be upon the gambler--there it was fixed, and stern as before; butit now conveyed a deeper expression of joy than of the other passionswhich were there met. Yet a joy so malignant and fiendish, that no lookof mere anger or hatred could have so chilled my heart. I dropped myeyes. I redoubled my attention to the cards--the last two were to beturned up. A moment more!--the fortune was to the noir. The stranger hadlost! He did not utter a single word. He looked with a vacant eye on thelong mace, with which the marker had swept away his last hopes, with hislast coin, and then, rising, left the room, and disappeared.

  The other Englishman was not long in following him. He uttered a short,low, laugh, unobserved, perhaps, by any one but myself; and, pushingthrough the atmosphere of sacres and mille tonnerres, which filled thatpandaemonium, strode quickly to the door. I felt as if a load had beentaken from my bosom, when he was gone.

 

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