The Palliser Novels

by Anthony Trollope

  “Do you see that little Frenchman?” said Lady Glencora. “He has just made half a napoleon, and has walked off with it. Isn’t it interesting? I could stay here all the night.” Then she turned round to whisper something to her husband, and Alice’s eyes again fell on the face of the man at the other end of the table. After he had won his money, he had allowed the game to go on for a turn without any action on his part. The gold again went under his hand, and he lounged forward with his hat over his eyes. One of the croupiers had said a word, as though calling his attention to the game, but he had merely shaken his head. But when the fate of the next turn had been decided, he again roused himself, and on this occasion, as far as Alice could see, pushed his whole stock forward with the rake. There was a little mass of gold, and, from his manner of placing it, all might see that he left its position to chance. One piece had got beyond its boundary, and the croupier pushed it back with some half-expressed inquiry as to his correctness. “All right,” said a voice in English. Then Lady Glencora started and clutched Alice’s arm with her hand. Mr Palliser was explaining to Mr Grey, behind them, something about German finance as connected with gambling-tables, and did not hear the voice, or see his wife’s motion. I need hardly tell the reader that the gambler was Burgo Fitzgerald.

  But Lady Glencora said not a word, — not as yet. She looked forward very gently, but still with eager eyes, till she could just see the face she knew so well. His hat was now pushed back, and his countenance had lost its listlessness. He watched narrowly the face of the man as he told out the amount of the cards as they were dealt. He did not try to hide his anxiety, and when, after the telling of some six or seven cards, he heard a certain number named, and a certain colour called, he made some exclamation which even Glencora could not hear. And then another croupier put down, close to Burgo’s money, certain rolls of gold done up in paper, and also certain loose napoleons.

  “Why doesn’t he take it?” said Lady Glencora.

  “He is taking it,” said Alice, not at all knowing the cause of her cousin’s anxiety.

  Burgo had paused a moment, and then prepared to rake the money to him; but as he did so, he changed his mind, and pushed it all back again, — now, on this occasion, being very careful to place it on its former spot. Both Alice and Glencora could see that a man at his elbow was dissuading him, — had even attempted to stop the arm which held the rake. But Burgo shook him off, speaking to him some word roughly, and then again he steadied the rolls upon their appointed place. The croupier who had paused for a moment now went on quickly with his cards, and in two minutes the fate of Burgo’s wealth was decided. It was all drawn back by the croupier’s unimpassioned rake, and the rolls of gold were restored to the tray from whence they had been taken.

  Burgo looked up and smiled at them all round the table. By this time most of those who stood around were looking at him. He was a man who gathered eyes upon him wherever he might be, or whatever he was doing; and it had been clear that he was very intent upon his fortune, and on the last occasion the amount staked had been considerable. He knew that men and women were looking at him, and therefore he smiled faintly as he turned his eyes round the table. Then he got up, and, putting his hands in his trousers pockets, whistled as he walked away. His companion followed him, and laid a hand upon his shoulder; but Burgo shook him off, and would not turn round. He shook him off, and walked on whistling, the length of the whole salon.

  “Alice,” said Lady Glencora, “it is Burgo Fitzgerald.” Mr Palliser had gone so deep into that question of German finance that he had not at all noticed the gambler. “Alice, what can we do for him? It is Burgo,” said Lady Glencora.

  Many eyes were now watching him. Used as he was to the world and to misfortune, he was not successful in his attempt to bear his loss with a show of indifference. The motion of his head, the position of his hands, the tone of his whistling, all told the tale. Even the unimpassioned croupiers furtively cast an eye after him, and a very big Guard, in a cocked hat, and uniform, and sword, who hitherto had hardly been awake, seemed evidently to be interested by his movements. If there is to be a tragedy at these places, — and tragedies will sometimes occur, — it is always as well that the tragic scene should be as far removed as possible from the salons, in order that the public eye should not suffer.

  Lady Glencora and Alice had left their places, and had shrunk back, almost behind a pillar. “Is it he, in truth?” Alice asked.

  “In very truth,” said Glencora. “What can I do? Can I do anything? Look at him, Alice. If he were to destroy himself, what should I do then?”

  Burgo, conscious that he was the regarded of all eyes, turned round upon his heel and again walked the length of the salon. He knew well that he had not a franc left in his possession, but still he laughed and still he whistled. His companion, whoever he might be, had slunk away from him, not caring to share the notoriety which now attended him.

  “What shall I do, Alice?” said Lady Glencora, with her eyes still fixed on him who had been her lover.

  “Tell Mr Palliser,” whispered Alice.

  Lady Glencora immediately ran up to her husband, and took him away from Mr Grey. Rapidly she told her story, — with such rapidity that Mr Palliser could hardly get in a word. “Do something for him; — do, do. Unless I know that something is done, I shall die. You needn’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid,” said Mr Palliser.

  Lady Glencora, as she went on quickly, got hold of her husband’s hand, and caressed it. “You are so good,” said she. “Don’t let him out of your sight. There; he is going. I will go home with Mr Grey. I will be ever so good; I will, indeed. You know what he’ll want, and for my sake you’ll let him have it. But don’t let him gamble. If you could only get him home to England, and then do something. You owe him something, Plantagenet; do you not?”

  “If money can do anything, he shall have it.”

  “God bless you, dearest! I shall never see him again; but if you could save him! There; — he is going now. Go; — go.” She pushed him forward, and then retreating, put her arm within Mr Grey’s, still keeping her eye upon her husband.

  Burgo, when he first got to the door leading out of the salon, had paused a moment, and, turning round, had encountered the big gendarme close to him. “Well, old Buffer, what do you want?” said he, accosting the man in English. The big gendarme simply walked on through the door, and said nothing. Then Burgo also passed out, and Mr Palliser quickly went after him. They were now in the large front salon, from whence the chief door of the building opened out upon the steps. Through this door Burgo went without pausing, and Mr Palliser went after him. They both walked to the end of the row of buildings, and then Burgo, leaving the broad way, turned into a little path which led up through the trees to the hills. That hillside among the trees is a popular resort at Baden, during the day; but now, at nine in the evening, it was deserted. Palliser did not press on the other man, but followed him, and did not accost Burgo till he had thrown himself on the grass beneath a tree.

  “You are in trouble, I fear, Mr Fitzgerald,” said Mr Palliser, as soon as he was close at Burgo’s feet.

  “We will go home. Mr Palliser has something to do,” said Lady Glencora to Mr Grey, as soon as the two men had disappeared from her sight.

  “Is that a friend of Mr Palliser?” said Mr Grey.

  “Yes; — that is, he knows him, and is interested about him. Alice, shall we go home? Oh! Mr Grey, you must not ask any questions. He, — Mr Palliser, will tell you everything when he sees you, — that is, if there is anything to be told.” Then they all went home, and soon separated for the night. “Of course I shall sit up for him,” said Lady Glencora to Alice, “but I will do it in my own room. You can tell Mr Grey, if you like.” But Alice told nothing to Mr Grey, nor did Mr Grey ask any questions.

  CHAPTER LXXVI

  The Landlord’s Bill

  “You are in trouble, Mr Fitzgerald, I fear,” said Mr Palliser, standing over Burgo as he
lay upon the ground. They were now altogether beyond the gas-lights, and the evening was dark. Burgo, too, was lying with his face to the ground, expecting that the footsteps which he had heard would pass by him.

  “Who is that?” said he, turning round suddenly; but still he was not at once able to recognize Mr Palliser, whose voice was hardly known to him.

  “Perhaps I have been wrong in following you,” said Mr Palliser, “but I thought you were in distress, and that probably I might help you. My name is Palliser.”

  “Plantagenet Palliser?” said Burgo, jumping up on to his legs and looking close into the other’s face. “By heavens! it is Plantagenet Palliser! Well, Mr Palliser, what do you want of me?”

  “I want to be of some use to you, if I can. I and my wife saw you leave the gaming-table just now.”

  “Is she here too?”

  “Yes; — she is here. We are going home, but chance brought us up to the salon. She seemed to think that you are in distress, and that I could help you. I will, if you will let me.”

  Mr Palliser, during the whole interview, felt that he could afford to be generous. He knew that he had no further cause for fear. He had no lingering dread of this poor creature who stood before him. All that feeling was over, though it was as yet hardly four months since he had been sent back by Mrs Marsham to Lady Monk’s house to save his wife, if saving her were yet possible.

  “So she is here, is she; — and saw me there when I staked my last chance? I should have had over twenty thousand francs now, if the cards had stood to me.”

  “The cards never do stand to any one, Mr Fitzgerald.”

  “Never; — never, — never!” said Burgo. “At any rate, they never did to me. Nothing ever does stand to me.”

  “If you want twenty thousand francs, — that’s eight hundred pounds, I think — I can let you have it without any trouble.”

  “The devil you can!”

  “Oh, yes. As I am travelling with my family — ” I wonder whether Mr Palliser considered himself to be better entitled to talk of his family than he had been some three or four weeks back — “As I am travelling with my family, I have been obliged to carry large bills with me, and I can accommodate you without any trouble.”

  There was something pleasant in this, which made Burgo Fitzgerald laugh. Mr Palliser, the husband of Lady Glencora M’Cluskie, and the heir of the Duke of Omnium happening to have money with him! As if Mr Palliser could not bring down showers of money in any quarter of the globe by simply holding up his hand. And then to talk of accommodating him, — Burgo Fitzgerald, as though it were simply a little matter of convenience, — as though Mr Palliser would of course find the money at his bankers’ when he next examined his book! Burgo could not but laugh.

  “I was not in the least doubting your ability to raise the money,” said he; “but how would you propose to get it back again?”

  “That would be at your convenience,” said Mr Palliser, who hardly knew how to put himself on a proper footing with his companion, so that he might offer to do something effectual for the man’s aid.

  “I never have any such convenience,” said Burgo. “Who were those women whose tubs always had holes at the bottom of them? My tub always has such a hole.”

  “You mean the daughters of Danaus,” said Mr Palliser.

  “I don’t know whose daughters they were, but you might just as well lend them all eight hundred pounds apiece.”

  “There were so many of them,” said Mr Palliser, trying a little joke. “But as you are only one I shall be most happy, as I said before, to be of service.”

  They were now walking slowly together up towards the hills, and near to them they heard a step. Upon this, Burgo turned round.

  “Do you see that fellow?” said he. Mr Palliser, who was somewhat short-sighted, said that he did not see him. “I do, though. I don’t know his name, but they have sent him out from the hotel with me, to see what I do with myself. I owe them six or seven hundred francs, and they want to turn me out of the house and not let me take my things with me.”

  “That would be very uncomfortable,” said Mr Palliser.

  “It would be uncomfortable, but I shall be too many for them. If they keep my traps they shall keep me. They think I’m going to blow my brains out. That’s what they think. The man lets me go far enough off to do that, — so long as it’s nowhere about the house.”

  “I hope you’re not thinking of such a thing?”

  “As long as I can help it, Mr Palliser, I never think of anything.” The stranger was now standing near to them, — almost so near that he might hear their words. Burgo, perceiving this, walked up to him, and, speaking in bad French, desired him to leave them. “Don’t you see that I have a friend with me?”

  “Oh! a friend,” said the man, answering in bad English. “Perhaps de friend can advance moneys?”

  “Never mind what he can do,” said Burgo. “You do as you are bid, and leave me.”

  Then the gentleman from the hotel retreated down the hill, but Mr Palliser, during the rest of the interview, frequently fancied that he heard the man’s footfall at no great distance.

  They continued to walk on up the hill very slowly, and it was some time before Mr Palliser knew how to repeat his offer.

  “So Lady Glencora is here?” Burgo said again.

  “Yes, she is here. It was she who asked me to come to you,” Mr Palliser answered. Then they both walked on a few steps in silence, for neither of them knew how to address the other.

  “By George! — isn’t it odd,” said Burgo, at last, “that you and I, of all men in the world, should be walking together here at Baden? It’s not only that you’re the richest man in London, and that I’m the poorest, but — ; there are other things, you know, which make it so funny.”

  “There have been things which make me and my wife very anxious to give you aid.”

  “And have you considered, Mr Palliser, that those things make you the very man in the world, — indeed, for the matter of that, the only man in the world, — from whom I can’t take aid. I would have taken it all if I could have got it, — and I tried hard.”

  “I know you have been disappointed, Mr Fitzgerald.”

  “Disappointed! By G––––! yes. Did you ever know any man who had so much right to be disappointed as I have? I did love her, Mr Palliser. Nay, by heavens! I do love her. Out here I will dare to say as much even to you. I shall never try to see her again. All that is over, of course. I’ve been a fool about her as I have been about everything. But I did love her.”

  “I believe it, Mr Fitzgerald.”

  “It was not altogether her money. But think what it would have been to me, Mr Palliser. Think what a chance I had, and what a chance I lost. I should have been at the top of everything, — as now I am at the bottom. I should not have spent that. There would have been enough of it to have saved me. And then I might have done something good instead of crawling about almost in fear of that beast who is watching us.”

  “It has been ordered otherwise,” said Mr Palliser, not knowing what to say.

  “Yes; it has been ordered, with a vengeance! It seems to have been ordered that I’m to go to the devil; but I don’t know who gave the orders, and I don’t know why.”

  Mr Palliser had not time to explain to his friend that the orders had been given, in a very peremptory way, by himself, as he was anxious to bring back the conversation to his own point. He wished to give some serviceable, and, if possible, permanent aid to the poor ne’er-do-well; but he did not wish to talk more than could be helped about his own wife.

  “There is an old saying, which you will remember well,” said he, “that the way to good manners is never too late.”

  “That’s nonsense,” said Burgo. “It’s too late when the man feels the knot round his neck at the Old Bailey.”

  “Perhaps not, even then. Indeed, we may say, certainly not, if the man be still able to take the right way. But I don’t want to preach to you.”


  “It wouldn’t do any good, you know.”

  “But I do want to be of service to you. There is something of truth in what you say. You have been disappointed; and I, perhaps, of all men am the most bound to come to your assistance now that you are in need.”

  “How can I take it from you?” said Burgo, almost crying.

  “You shall take it from her!”

  “No; — that would be worse; twenty times worse. What! take her money, when she would not give me herself!”

  “I do not see why you should not borrow her money, — or mine. You shall call it which you will.”

  “No; I won’t have it.”

  “And what will you do then?”

  “What will I do? Ah! That’s the question. I don’t know what I will do. I have the key of my bedroom in my pocket, and I will go to bed to-night. It’s not very often that I look forward much beyond that.”

  “Will you let me call on you, to-morrow?”

  “I don’t see what good it will do? I shan’t get up till late, for fear they should shut the room against me. I might as well have as much out of them as I can. I think I shall say I’m ill, and keep my bed.”

  “Will you take a few napoleons?”

  “No; not a rap. Not from you. You are the first man from whom I ever refused to borrow money, and I should say that you’ll be about the last to offer to lend it me.”

  “I don’t know what else I can offer?” said Mr Palliser.

  “You can offer nothing. If you will say to your wife from me that I bade her adieu; — that is all you can do for me. Good night, Mr Palliser; good night.”

  Mr Palliser left him and went his way, feeling that he had no further eloquence at his command. He shook Burgo’s hand, and then walked quickly down the hill. As he did so he passed, or would have passed the man who had been dodging them.