Page 8 of The Enemies of Women (Los enemigos de la mujer)

  CHAPTER VIII

  Spadoni entered Novoa's room with the intention of getting him to talk.At present he was an ardent believer in the professor's knowledge, andseeing him well disposed toward gambling and inclined to meditate on itsmysteries, he hoped with simple faith that the scientist would discoversomething miraculous, some brilliant idea that would make them bothwealthy. On that account the pianist arose earlier than he was wont, tosurprise the professor during his toilet, considering this the propertime for matters of confidence.

  "The word 'chance,'" said Novoa, "is a term devoid of meaning; or, Ishould say rather, chance does not exist. It is an invention of ourhuman weakness, our ignorance. We say that a phenomenon takes place bychance when the causes either are unknown to us or seem impossible toanalyze. We are ignorant of the causes of the majority of things thatoccur and we get out of the difficulty by attributing them to chance."

  The musician opened his eyes wide, and his olive features contractedwith a look of respectful attention. He did not understand thescientist's words very clearly, but he admired them in advance, as aprelude to revelations which would be more practical, and of immediateapplication.

  "Every phenomenon," continued Novoa, "no matter how slight it seems, hasa cause, and the man with an infinitely powerful brain, infinitely wellinformed of the laws of Nature, would be capable of foreseeingeverything that might happen within a few minutes or within a fewcenturies. With a man like this it would be impossible to play anygambling game. Chance would not exist for him. Having the secret of thesmall causes that at present escape our intelligence, and a knowledge ofthe laws that control their combinations, he would know absolutelyeverything that might arise from the mystery of a pack of cards or fromthe numbers of a roulette wheel. No one could hope to win from him."

  "Oh, Professor!" sighed the pianist, in admiration.

  Inwardly he prayed that his illustrious friend would go on studying. Whoknows but what a professor might become that all-powerful person, and,taking pity on a poor pianist, allow him to follow in his trail ofglory!

  Novoa smiled at Spadoni's simplicity and went on talking.

  "The number of facts which we attribute to chance (and chance is nothingbut a fictitious cause created by our ignorance) varies, in the sameratio as our ignorance varies, according to the times and according tothe individual. Many things which are chance for an uneducated person,are not chance for a man of learning. What is chance to-day will not beperhaps within a few years. Scientific discoveries finally diminishconsiderably the domain of chance, just as our ignorance decreases."

  The pianist's face beamed with a rapt expression.

  "You are a great scholar, Professor, a great scholar!... Don't shakeyour head; I know what I'm saying. I have a feeling of certainty that,if you go on studying these important matters, you will find a systemwhich...."

  The Spaniard interrupted him, pointing to a pack of cards on a nearbytable. It was easy to guess that he had been studying during the night,before going to bed. These cards were for Spadoni evidence of scientificstudiousness, worthier of respect than all the books from the libraryof the Prince, which lay forgotten in the corners. At present theProfessor was interested in the mysteries of chance, and Spadoni wascertain that he would discover something better than anything which hadbeen invented thus far by ordinary gamblers.

  But his hope vanished at Novoa's gesture of dismay.

  "Look at that pack of cards: A few pieces of cardboard and,nevertheless, they contain the immensity of the universe! They cause inone the feeling of dizziness inspired by the Infinite, just as when youlook upward with a telescope or downward with a microscope. Do you knowhow many combinations can be made with a pack of fifty-two cards? Idon't know how to express it: nor will you find the figure in adictionary or an arithmetic, as it is useless, since it lies beyondhuman calculations. Let us coin the word: eighty unidecillions, or thefigure eight followed by sixty-six ciphers. Two men who began to playwith a pack of fifty-two cards and played a hand every minute, each handbeing different, would not be able to exhaust all the possiblecombinations in five million centuries."

  There was a long silence, as though the walls of the room had shrunkunder the weight of these inconceivable numbers. Spadoni bowed his head.

  "Now, tell me," continued the Professor, "what can a poor human being,with all his calculations of probabilities, do against this infinity!"

  And seizing a handful of cards, he let them fall again like a whisperingrain of colors on the table.

  "Everything depends on chance," he added, "or I should say, on error. Welose through error and win through it likewise. Our error is the resultof an infinity of infinitesimal errors due to another infinity of smallcauses, the analysis of which we cannot even attempt. These tiny causesare all independent of one another, and since they are directed bychance, they operate in one way as readily as in another. When theinfinitesimal is positive, it causes us to win, when it is negative, welose."

  Spadoni nodded his head, although he scarcely understood. The one thingclear to him were the infinitesimal errors which cause us to lose. Hewas acquainted with them; they were like microbes, malevolent germs,which always clung to him. He wished that his learned friend mightdiscover an antiseptic that would put an end to them.

  "Besides," said Novoa, "if there are probabilities of winning, theseprobabilities are in proportion to the wealth of the gamblers. A poorgambler has less chance of winning than one who has capital at hisdisposal."

  "Then, how about us?" the musician asked in a melancholy voice.

  "We are the under dogs and were born to be victims. Gambling is an imageof life: the strong triumph over the weak."

  Spadoni remained thoughtful.

  "I have seen wealthy gamblers," he said, "who were finally ruined likethe rest."

  "Because they don't stop in time, at the point where the resisting powerof their capital brings the hour of winning. In life, as well, the greatdevourers, soldiers, multi-millionaires, and rulers, are in turndevoured in the final leveling: death. But before that time, theytriumph through a powerful means that fate has placed in their hands. Wewho are poor, never triumph continuously for a whole day. Trying to wina great fortune with small capital is equivalent to wanting to lose thatsmall capital."

  They both fell silent, discouraged; but Novoa seemed to have sufferedthe contagion of his companion's dreams, and felt the necessity ofbolstering him up again with some fantastic meditation fit for agambler.

  "You know, Spadoni, how much one can win with a thousand francs? Lastnight I undertook to make the calculation."

  He pointed to a piece of paper covered with figures which was protrudingfrom among the cards. So Novoa was up to the same tricks as the pianist!

  "With a thousand francs, doubling each time in forty-three games (somefour hours), one could win a block of gold a hundred thousand milliontimes as large as the sun."

  "Oh, Professor!"

  They both looked at each other with mystic ardor, as though they wereactually contemplating this immeasurable block. Beside such a visionwhat did the winnings of a few paltry millions mean?

  Toledo was beginning to realize, little by little, the gradualtransformation of his friend, the scientist.

  Novoa was greatly interested in his personal appearance; he had askedthe Colonel to recommend him to his tailor in Nice; and the Professormade frequent trips to the latter city, merely to make purchases.

  Besides, he was gambling. Don Marcos frequently surprised him beside atable in the Casino, standing and meditating before risking one of thefew chips which he held tightly in his hand. He seemed dazzled by theease with which he won. The amounts were small, but so large incomparison with those which he had received for his previous work as aProfessor! In half an hour he could win a month's salary. In anafternoon he had succeeded in amassing three thousand francs; half ayear's work at teaching and in the laboratory.

  Monte Carlo seemed to him an interesting place and life there a quietrelaxation, which s
tood out above the grave, laborious monotony of hisprevious existence. The Museum of Oceanography could wait; it would notmove away during his absence from the point on the rock of Monaco. Thescience of maritime zoology was not going to be revolutionized in a fewmonths. And when the director saw him with a gay excited look enter,from time to time, the quiet silent atmosphere of the Museum, and whenhe observed his gay clothes, and the closeness with which he followedmen's style, he sadly shook his head. Novoa was not the first. Oh, MonteCarlo! The old professors looked with the stern face of prophets at thecity opposite. Young men who arrived from various places in the world tostudy the mysteries of the ocean, ended by making mathematicalcalculations on the probabilities of roulette.

  "Besides, he is in love," said Castro, communicating to Toledo hisimpressions in regard to Novoa. "When he isn't gambling he is with thatValeria woman."

  They were engaged. The professor, with an air of mystery, had told thisto all his friends, asking each one to keep the secret. After idlegallantries as a student, this was the first, the great love of hislife. He was worried somewhat by the humbleness of his position. Whenthey were married what would Valeria say on learning how little heearned as a scientist? But immediately he placed his hope on gambling,the undreamt of fortune which at present offered itself each day.

  "If this goes on a few months," he told the Colonel, "I will have gottentogether a tidy little sum before I have completed my studies. Every dayI lay something aside, and nevertheless I am spending more than ever. Imust dress smartly like my fiancee."

  And Don Marcos replied with an ambiguous smile.

  Novoa's happiness was accompanied by a certain pride. He considered hisfuture life companion a great lady, of higher intellectual capacity andcapable of more serious pursuits than the majority of women of herclass. She was poor, and for that reason accepted a position borderingon that of a servant. But seeing her on familiar terms with the Duchess,he considered her of as high rank as the latter, and finally blended theaffairs of both women in a common interest. And since Dona Clorinda wasat present an implacable enemy of Alicia's, and since Atilio blindlyespoused the whims and ideas of "the General," a hidden animosity beganto spring up between the two men, who up to that time had treated eachother with amiable indifference.

  "Women!" murmured Toledo on observing the progress of this dislike. "ThePrince was right...."

  But other more important preoccupations tormented the Colonel. Thegreatly feared offensive had begun. The telegrams from the front werebrief and bad. The Allies were retreating before the German advance.Their lines were not broken, but were wavering, and curving backwardsunder the overwhelming blows of the enemy. Every day dozens of villagesand great stretches of territory were lost.

  Don Marcos, with the bursts of anger of a Polytechnic freshman,protested against the lack of foresight of the Generals, mingling hiscomplaints with those of the crowd.

  "I knew it would come," he said, with a self-sufficient air to thegroups of idlers in the ante-room of the Casino, where he was listenedto because of his military title. "The Kaiser has massed in France allthe troops that he had in Russia. Who wouldn't have expected it? And ourforces are doubtless inferior in numbers."

  The bombardment of Paris finally routed all his ideas of strategy."Lies!" he roared, standing in front of the telegraphic despatches onthe bulletin board, and reading of the first shells that had fallen inParis. It was impossible: he was ready to stake his word, and was wellinformed as to the range of modern artillery. And on learning theexistence of cannon that fired more than a hundred kilometers, he wasdisconcerted. "What times we're living in! What a war this is!"

  When the ladies consulted him in the Casino or in the Hotel de Paris, hedisplayed unshakable optimism in the face of the bad news.

  "This is nothing: The reaction is going to set in. Our men arewithdrawing in order to be better able to take the offensive."

  But when he was alone his sense of security collapsed, and he could nothide from himself that his faith was shaken like that of the rest.

  "They will reach Paris, if God does not take a hand," he said tohimself. "A miracle is necessary, another miracle like that of theMarne."

  For the good Colonel still firmly believed that the first battle of theMarne had been a miracle wrought by Saint Genevieve, by Joan of Arc, orsome other beatific person able to intervene in human combats, much asthe false gods sung by Homer had intervened. Did not St. James fight inthe battles of Spain, whenever the Christians attacked the Moors?

  "And the miracle has been rendered worthless," he said bitterly. "Itwill have to be repeated, they will have to begin again, after fouryears of war."

  With the bombardment of Paris the population of the Riviera hadincreased considerably in a few weeks. The trains were arriving packedwith fugitives. The streets of Nice were filled with strangers just asin peace times, when the Carnival was celebrated. Monte Carlo found itscrowds largely increased and new gambling rooms were opened in theCasino.

  Toledo spent the afternoon and the early evening hours in the anteroom,always expecting good news, and accepting the bad with an easy optimismwhich found excuse and justification for everything.

  The circle of his friends was gradually increasing. Every day he cameacross well known faces that he had not seen for a long time. He shookhands, and returned greetings. "You here!" The cannon firing on Parisfrom an extraordinary distance filled the gambling rooms with awell-dressed crowd, almost as numerous as that of peace times.

  Don Marcos continued to announce the reaction, the counter-offensive forthe following day, as though he were in touch in some mysterious waywith the General Staff. And the anger aroused by the daily failure ofhis predictions was taken out on the gamblers. "What a life, what anindecent life! Appetites that know no morals! The selfishness ofbrutes!"

  The people around the Colonel seemed to be sorry for a moment as theyread the bad news. Then, the majority entered the Casino. Perhaps it wasa lack of thoughtfulness on their part, or perhaps it showed a desire toforget, to seek in gambling the illusions of alcohol. But the tiny ivoryball whirled tirelessly in the many roulette wheels. The cards did notcease to fall in double row on the _trente et quarante_ tables, and thecrowds around the green boards kept on increasing.

  The people were nervous, argumentative, and irritable, and lost theirmanners over a mere gambling incident. The activity on the far-offbattle line spread like a fierce wind, around the tables; there was anaggressive look in the eyes of the women. Every cannon shot fired onfar-away Paris reverberated like an echo in the rain of money falling inMonte Carlo.

  When Toledo, the strategist, attempted to put forth his opinions andplans in Villa Sirena, he found a less attentive audience than in theante-room of the Casino. The Prince had much more interesting things tothink of. Novoa displayed a certain selfish joy, as though consideringthis period the best in his life, and the world's misfortunes merelysomething which gave a keener zest to his secret happiness. Spadonilistened to war talk as though people were talking of some ancientfiction.

  As for him, reality was what he wanted, and he interrupted the Colonelto tell him about more interesting matters. At present he scorned theCasino, and was frequenting the _Sporting-Club_, where there gatheredthe boldest gamblers who preferred to use chips of five thousand francs.A Greek, who had been a common sailor in his youth, reigned there like ahero of epic legends, admired by the ladies in ball-room dresses and thesolemn gentlemen in evening clothes who gathered together in thataristocratic club. He had learned to read and write after he had grownup, but he possessed an immense fortune. The night before, after dealingfor three hours, he had won a million two hundred thousand francs.Spadoni had seen it with his own eyes, and imitated the hero's gesturesas he rose from the table, with a little wicker basket held in bothhands, a miserable little basket containing, as so much sweepings, heapsof blue bills, and piles of five thousand franc chips. Why should theytalk to him about Generals and battles? There was a man for you!

  Ca
stro had been listening to the Colonel in a silence that augured ill,and with a coolly aggressive look. Suddenly, he interrupted the plans ofstrategy of Don Marcos.

  "And when are they going to promote you?"

  Many of the Generals who at present were celebrated, had been mereColonels at the beginning of the war. It was about time that Toledo wasshoved up a notch on the Army Register.

  And poor Don Marcos, wounded by this cruel jest, replied in a dignifiedmanner:

  "I am satisfied with what I am, senor de Castro."

  He knew perfectly well what he was: a Colonel, and he did not care to beanything more. And several times he repeated to himself that he did notwant to be anything more.

  In spite of the fact that at Villa Sirena each one was preoccupied withhis own affairs, appearing absent-minded when the other guests weretalking, Atilio's bad humor was making their life in common ratherunpleasant.

  Toledo had a feeling that he knew the reason for this conduct. DonaClorinda was doubtless treating him badly, and he, in turn, was gettingrevenge for these humiliations and vexations by showing himself harshand ironical with his friends. The Colonel had been obliged to calmClorinda when he met her (discussing the news of the war) in the Casino.She felt a strong antipathy to every man who was not in uniform, alittle more and she would have insulted them.

  "Slackers! Cowards! If I were a man!"

  Although she was not, she felt the need of doing something, and wasconsumed with impatience at not being able to use her energies among thewhistling bullets at the front. Finally, she found a means of beinguseful.

  She decided to leave for Paris. When every one who was able to run awayfrom there was hastening to do so, she determined she would go and takeup her residence in her former house, defying with her presence thecannon and aeroplanes of the enemy.

  Castro took the liberty timidly to suggest that this sacrifice wouldhave no effect. The Colonel added, with his professional judgment, thatit seemed to him foolish, but she was in no way disposed to modify herdetermination.

  The outcome of the war concerned her passionately, and she entered intothe spirit of it with a nervous vehemence like that which disturbed herfriendly relationships.

  "If the Allies shouldn't win, life for me would be impossible. How thosemiserable wretches would laugh! I would rather die."

  The miserable wretches were the friends she had formerly had before thewar, people of various nationalities who, through pose or throughpersonal interest, sympathized with the Germans. The "General" with afeeling of pride that inspired fear, really and sincerely wanted to die,rather than see triumphant those whom she had chosen as enemies.

  "If I were a man!" And Atilio, who sought every occasion to be near herin the Casino, or exaggerated the beauty of certain spots, in order toinduce her to take walks with him there alone, hastened to flee at thesewords, in which he detected an insult.

  Later, on finding himself at Villa Sirena, his submission as a loverchanged to hostility for the rest.

  He had discovered that he hated Novoa, or, rather, that logically heought to hate him. Dona Clorinda was quarreling with Alicia, and theblue-stocking for whom the Professor felt such enthusiasm was thecompanion and protegee of the Duchess. For that reason he ought to be anenemy of Novoa. They were like two men who have never done each otherany particular harm, but belong to two nations which are at war.

  Besides--and he would not have been willing to confess it--the air ofsatisfaction and triumph of the scholar caused him a certain envy. Novoawas never squelched nor treated with indifference, it was the woman whosought him, making an effort to flatter his tastes, pretendingscientific interest in things which made no difference to herwhatsoever: merely for the sake of keeping him under her sway. Happyman! And how disagreeable! As always happens when one is beginning to bedisliked, Atilio discovered, almost daily, various sources of annoyanceof which he told Toledo.

  His friend, the Professor, was trying to make fun of him, and he was notdisposed to tolerate it. One day Atilio had to wait half an hour at thebarber's. The Professor was in his chair and using _his_ manicure. Suchnerve! He was doubtless trying to outshine him, and for that reason heeven got his clothes from the same tailor in Nice. Another piece ofinsolence! Besides, he didn't know how to wear clothes. And he evensuspected that, to please his fiancee and the latter's mistress, thatbook-worm was probably taking the liberty of saying mean things about acertain lady, and if he ever found it out!...

  But the Colonel paid no attention to such threats. The sad news from thewar made the matters of daily life seem unimportant.

  The Germans were continuing to advance on Paris. Under the repeatedblows of the enemy the retreat of the Allies seemed endless, andToledo's hopes diminished from moment to moment. By this time, he wasprepared for anything! The invaders had an overwhelming numericalsuperiority!

  He had only one hope left. If the aid promised by the United States wereactually to materialize! Supposing it did not turn out to be a bluff, asmany people thought! Now in his imagination, all he could see wasAmerica, its harbors filled with armed multitudes, and the blue surfaceof the ocean plowed by thousands of boats, bringing endless armies toland on European shores. And as weeks went by without his dreams beingrealized, he began to give advice to Wilson from the Groves of VillaSirena, or from among the jasper columns of the ante-room of the Casino.

  "What is the man thinking of? Why don't they come? If they don't hurry,it will all be over before they arrive."

  War and discord made their appearance nearer at hand, within his owndomains, causing him for a few hours to consider the generalconflagration as a matter of secondary interest.

  He never knew for sure who started the row, but one night during dinner,he noticed that Castro and Novoa, with studied coolness, were exchangingwords like sword thrusts. The Prince could not suspect any hostilitybetween his two friends, since never in his presence did they departfrom the usual forms of courtesy. Besides, occupied with his ownthoughts, he did not realize that the Professor, stirred up, doubtless,by Atilio's animosity, had become somewhat quarrelsome. Novoa made aslight allusion to the war-like "General," who was talking about goingto Paris, as though her presence there could have any effect on the war.Castro saw in this remark a reflection of the enmity of the Duchess.Doubtless, Valeria and Novoa had laughed together over Dona Clorinda'senthusiasm. And he turned against Alicia's protegee, calling her apenniless blue-stocking, who was always rubbing elbows with great ladiesthough she was only a servant herself! He could not understandsentimental love affairs with women of that class. He felt a temptationto attack the Duchess de Delille also, but, remembering that she was arelative of the Prince, he refrained.

  The two men sat there pale and silent, looking daggers at each other.

  The next day, Atilio, before leaving for the Casino, called Don Marcosaside. Perhaps he would soon have an affair of honor on his hands; andcould he count on the Colonel as second?

  The Colonel drew up to his full height, with a grave frown. Severalyears had passed since he had performed that solemn function, for whichhe seemed to have been born. His last duel dated some eight years back:a meeting on the Italian frontier between two gentlemen who hadexchanged blows over cheating at cards.

  His face became even more gloomy as he bowed in sign of consent, raisinghis hand to his breast. Since with Don Marcos every action carried withit proper details in dress, he felt that it was impossible to perform acertain act without the corresponding costume, and he suddenlyremembered a certain frock coat, which had long been forgotten in hiswardrobe, and which he called his "duelling uniform," a black garment,of Napoleonic cut, with long tails, which he brought to light wheneverhe was a second and, owing to his military name, was called upon todirect a combat.

  "I accept. One gentleman cannot refuse another gentleman such a favor."

  And he accepted with true thankfulness, thinking how proper it would beto take this suit, as solemn as death, from its prison among themoth-balls, and give it an airi
ng.

  But that same afternoon Novoa came to look him up. The Professor spoketimidly, without the elegant indifference of Castro, and with a certainsense that he might be acting foolishly. Perhaps he would soon have anaffair of honor on his hands.

  "Since I don't understand such matters, Colonel, you will be my second.I have studied along other lines; but when a lady is insulted and when Isee a young defenseless girl trampled upon, I consider myself as much aman as the bravest."

  Don Marcos started. No, indeed! His eyes were open to the truth. Heforgot about airing his frock coat; it might remain in its odorous tomb.And since the Professor was less to be feared than the other man, he letloose all his wrath on Novoa. Imagine fighting over mere nonsense, whenmillions of men were giving their blood for great ideals! and he, whohad referred so frequently to his many experiences as a second as heroicactions, made a gesture of disgust, as though something offensive to hishonor were being proposed to him.

  A few days later, Novoa spoke to the Prince, with the brevity that illconcealed his emotions. He was very thankful to the owner of VillaSirena; he would never forget his pleasant life in that retreat, but itwas necessary for him to return to his former lodgings. He had importantwork on hand which would not allow him to live far from Monaco; thedirector of the Museum was complaining of his absences.

  And he went away, to live in a poor house in the old city, renouncingall the comforts and luxury of the mansion in charge of the Colonel.

  In spite of such excuses, the Prince expressed his doubts to Toledo. Hedid not clearly understand this flight. Perhaps there were some otherreasons which he could not guess.

  "Yes; perhaps there are," replied Don Marcos, with a knowing smile. "Itmust be a question of women."

  Michael nodded. Doubtless, it is on account of Valeria. Living in Monacohe felt himself freer to meet the girl.

  "Women!" the Prince exclaimed. "What a power they have over us!"

  "And what a mess they make of friendships among men!"

  Toledo's voice as he said this was as sad as the Prince's had been onenumerating to his friends the advantages of living away from women. Onthe other hand, Michael was now himself submitting to a woman'sdomination, and almost envied the scientist returning to his formermodest life in order to meet the woman he loved more frequently.

  As for himself, Michael was less happy. Days went by without his beingable to repeat his promenade with Alicia in the gardens of Monaco.

  "I love you!" she said. "You may believe that I haven't forgotten thatafternoon. Later on we will take the same trip, but not now, I know howit would end. It is impossible for me.... I am thinking of my son."

  Michael had no doubt that this was true, but something more than worryover the absent one was at the time in her thoughts. She had abandonedherself once more to gambling with the money she had found in her house.The Prince even suspected that she had sold or pawned the pin with whichhe had repaired the tear in her dress. After giving her the PrincessLubimoff's pearl, he had not seen it again. Alicia seemed unmoved at thefirst splendor of Spring.

  "Some day we shall go there," she said, when he recalled to her thegardens of San Martino, "I promise you. But I must be free from worry, Imust lose everything or win everything. I must make the most of my time.As you see, luck seems to be remembering me again."

  She was winning little, but she was winning, and this caused her tohope that that sudden burst of good luck which had stirred the Casino,would be repeated.

  In the evening she withdrew contented. She had three or four thousandfrancs more, but what did that amount to? She lamented the smallness ofher capital. She wanted to play the "grand jeu" and win back all thatshe had lost. Winning thus little by little, she would never getanywhere. If she could only get together again the thirty thousandfrancs, which rose and fell, but always remained faithful!

  Michael remained in the Casino for hours at a time near her table,watching for a propitious occasion, without being able to obtain morethan brief conversation when she was resting from the play, or takingtea in the bar of the private rooms.

  One morning he went to surprise her in her villa. It was ten o'clock. Hemet Valeria who had just put on her hat, and seemed annoyed at thisvisit. Perhaps she was going to Monaco, perhaps her man of Science waswaiting for her in one of the side streets of Monte Carlo.

  "The Duchess has gone," she said, smiling, "she must be in the midst ofher work."

  Among the gamblers the Casino was known as the "factory," and theyreally meant it, when they referred to their worry and scheming aroundthe tables as their "work."

  Doubtless she had spent a large part of the night figuring, in order tobe on hand at the Casino, at the opening hour, her eyes still heavy withsleep, and without paying any attention to her personal adornment, asthough there were all too little time for carrying out some wonderfulcombination she had just discovered.

  Whenever he met her, the Prince, with a childish rather ill-concealedmotive, alluded to her son's fate. It was only thus that he could rouseher from her preoccupations with gambling, which kept her constantlydistracted, talking and smiling automatically, like a person walking inher sleep.

  One day, Lubimoff showed her various telegrams and letters from Madrid,Paris, and Berne. Kings and Ministers had taken up the task of findingout the fate of the aviator who had disappeared. A promise came overfrom Berlin, through the medium of a neutral nation, to look for theyoung man in every prison cantonment. They suspected that he might beconfined in Poland, in a punishment camp.

  Alicia began at once ardently to measure time, as though the longed-fornotice might arrive at any moment.

  "In Heaven's name, please, Michael! Write, telegraph this very day. Tellthe gentlemen who have been so kind to send their answer directly to me.The telegram or letter might come to your Villa while you are away, andI would be hours and hours without knowing anything about it! No, havethem write to me. Every day, when I go out, I tell my gardener that ifthere is a telegram he should bring it to me at the Casino. Imagine myimpatience! Tell me you'll do this. Promise me you won't forget!"

  The one thing that the Prince was at all able to forget, while he was byAlicia's side, was his own personal business. His mind was entirelytaken up with discovering the forgotten captive, on whom his happinessdepended.

  "The day I learn for certain that he is alive!... you will see then howdifferent I am. I shan't bore you with my troubles: you will find adifferent woman."

  And as a matter of fact, her smile and her glances, full of promises,caused him to see in her once more the Alicia who had walked beside himon the path along the seashore, with her lips pressed closely to his inan endless kiss.

  When he found himself alone, he was assailed by his own troubles andworries. He had received news from Russia through various fugitives whohad just been freed from the persecution of the Revolution. The men whoformerly administered his estate there had been murdered. The Lubimoffpalace was being used as the headquarters of a Bolshevist Committee. Hismines were national property, although no one was working them; his landhad been divided; various persons of obscure origin, former old clothesdealers and liquor merchants, had become the owners of his houses, noone knew how. And at the same time that he received this news, whichmade his future so uncertain, he learned other details which embitteredhis pleasantest memories. A great lady of the Court, with whom he hadhad a love affair, the memory of which he cherished, was now sellingnewspapers on the sidewalks; another very elegant lady, who had set allthe fashions in Saint Petersburg, was sweeping snow on the streets ofPetrograd, and had lost several fingers by freezing. He could count bythe dozen friends of his who had been killed; some of them shot withrevolvers like rats, in the depths of some dungeon, others executed byfiring squads. Several had perished of hunger, just as years beforethose of the lower classes, who now were taking revenge, had died.

  All these horrors aroused his selfish instincts, causing him to takefresh delight in his own situation. The world had been plunged into
abloody madness. East and west men were rushing about like wild beasts,while he remained quietly beside the most smiling of seas, with love anddesire filling his life, which had been so empty before, and awakeninganew the ardor and enthusiasm of youth. At the very hour when thousandsof human beings were dying in crowds, and the whole villages were beingswept from the surface of the earth, he was living under the sway of awoman, and finding his servitude very sweet.

  One afternoon, in the bar of the private room, Alicia spoke to him withan air of resolution. She must play big stakes. She was tired of"working" on small capital, and gaining small returns. Besides, shescorned the Casino with its limited bets, its roulette and _trente etquarante_, almost mechanical games in which you cannot see the bankersitting opposite, but instead mere employees.

  "All that gives you the impression of struggling with a formidablemachine, that functions monotonously, with no imagination, no soul. Imust play _baccarat_."

  She had gotten her thirty thousand francs together once more: eitherenormous winnings or nothing! She preferred to lose everything and endit once for all at a single stroke.

  "To-night in the Sporting Club. Don't say no: I need you. I have afeeling that this is going to be the decisive night for me--and perhapsfor you. Sit opposite me so that I can see you. Remember that on thelucky afternoons you were near me. You will bring me luck. Don't shakeyour head; you will bring me luck, I tell you."

  And she said it with such conviction, that Michael could no longerwithhold his consent.

  "Come, you will gain by it: I promise you. You will gain by it, nomatter what the result. If they clean me out, to-morrow we will go for awalk in the Monaco Gardens, as we did before. And if I win--if Iwin,--all you want!..."

  She did not need to say any more. The look in her eye and her smilefilled Michael with enthusiasm. He would see her at the Club.

  That night, Castro and Toledo were surprised at seeing the Prince sitdown at the table dressed, like themselves, in a Tuxedo.

  "The Boss isn't staying home," said Atilio to the Colonel. "He too isgoing to the opera."

  He went to the Casino theater, to while away the time until midnight. Hewould not have been able to tell for a certainty with whom he talkedduring the intermission, nor with whom he shook hands. He was obliged tomake an effort several times to recall the name and composer of theopera. The music made no difference to him. It was a lulling sound whichrocked his thoughts to sleep, calming his emotion--an emotion made up ofhope and of fear.

  During the first act, he wanted Alicia to lose everything, absolutelyeverything, thus she would be his more completely, depending absolutelyon him, in sweet bondage. Later, during the following act he thought ofAlicia's despair after such a loss. She was full of temperament, and shefelt the pride of an artist in her play. Perhaps more than the lostmoney, she would lament her personal defeat. No, it was better that sheshould win. But how long the music was lasting! How slowly his watchseemed to go! After eleven, when the lobby was lighted and the crowd wasleaving the opera, Michael got into an elevator, which took him downinto the bowels of the earth, and then he followed a subterraneanpassageway, the multi-colored stucco walls of which brilliantlyreflected the electric lights. He was walking along under the squarefront of the Casino, where at that moment many carriages were passingback and forth. Another elevator took him up to a large room filled withcolumns. It was the great hall of the Hotel de Paris. He saw women inevening gowns and gentlemen dressed in Tuxedos, the usual crowd offashionable hotel people who put on uniforms for dinner, and then sitaround in deep armchairs, to digest what they have eaten, looking at oneanother without talking, or else conversing in low tones, as though theywere in church, until they are overcome by sleep.

  He bowed distantly to various friends who arose, on seeing him, to begina conversation. He pretended not to see certain ladies who smiled athim, motioning with their heads to call him. He entered anotherelevator, and descended once more underground. He found himself in acurving passageway, the walls of which were decorated with Pompeianpaintings. It extended under two hotels and their gardens. Once more heentered an elevator, which brought him above the surface of the ground.He opened a glass door. An old lackey, in a blue livery, with kneebreeches and white stockings, bowed, somewhat surprised at recognizing,after a moment's hesitation, Prince Lubimoff. He was in the SportingClub.

  He had not entered it for years, since before the war. He was not agambler, and it was only because he had been interested in certain womenthat he had spent his nights amid elegant society in that place which,like many others of the same class, was merely a gambling den.

  The drawing rooms were too small, after midnight; one walked alongstepping on the trains of women's gowns. One had to be very dextrous toslip through between the various groups. Every one was smoking, thewomen more than the men, and the atmosphere grew thicker and thickerwith tobacco smoke and the perfumes of the boudoir. The wealthy peoplescorned the crowds at the Casino, considering it a sign of distinctionto be packed in together in this club. They gambled with their own set,considering themselves safe from bad neighbors at the tables, and fromcontact with suspicious characters who were so frequent in the publicrooms. To get in here, it was necessary to give guarantees; some onemust vouch for the honor of a person before he could be presented.

  The Prince was well acquainted with this brilliant gathering. Here onemight meet people of royal blood, heirs to thrones, who were passingthrough the Riviera, famous bankers, millionaires from all parts of theworld, women celebrated for their nobility, their beauty, or theirjewels, and many famous and aged _cocottes_ and a few, young and freshlooking, who were anxious to grow old as soon as possible, as thoughthat were a means of attaining celebrity. They had all appeared on thestage, at one time or another, in a trained-rabbit act, perhaps, or insome wretched dance, or with a song which they sang in spite of the factthat they had no voices. They were admitted to the Club under the rathervague classification of "artists."

  Michael came forward through the atmosphere warm from the crowds andheavy with fading perfumes. He still had to watch where he stepped thistime as he had done on his visit here before. Now, to be sure, women'sskirts were very short, and their legs were shown uncovered, with aplacid lack of shame. The war was shortening their skirts, as though thewomen, obliged to run in the open field, had taken as a model theancient Vivandiere. But almost all of them, in order not to breakcompletely with a majestic tradition, had added to their stylishoverskirts, a sharp and narrow tail, tongue-shaped, which dragged farbehind as they walked.

  A lady came forward to meet Lubimoff, and it was a moment before herecognized her. It had been so many years since he had seen Alicia inevening dress! Her gown dated back to pre-war times, but was of richmaterial and the Duchess wore it with the same smartness as in the daysof her wealth. The long pearl necklace gained an air of genuineness onher person, as did her other ornaments. It was evident that she had madeextraordinary efforts to present a proper appearance on her visit to theClub.

  She came here seldom, the crowd composed of former friends talked toomuch, disturbing her in her gambling calculations. She preferred theCasino, with its large rooms and its motley crowd, talking in variouslanguages. She was a proletarian in the matter of gambling: she had asuperstition that fortune prefers to come where its devotees gather inlarge bands. Her intuition that she would be lucky at _baccarat_, a gameto be found only here, had persuaded her to abandon her usual custom forthis one night.

  The Prince complimented her on her lovely appearance, her dress, herpearls....

  "False, scandalously false, my dear," she said, laughing and lookingabout her. "But you know very well that the majority of those worn bythe other women are no better. Ah, pearls! If all that shine in theworld were brought together, the sea would not be large enough to haveproduced a tenth part."

  She led the Prince toward the bar. She had a favor to ask of him. Atmidnight the game of _baccarat_ commenced: she had asked for "the bank,"but the rules of the C
lub prevented her from getting it. Alas for women!Even in gambling they were condemned to a position of degradinginferiority. Lost in the common crowd of "ponteurs" they might lose afortune, but they were forbidden ever to hold the bank. The directors ofthis Club and other similar ones doubtless feared that women were moregiven to cheating than men. She, the Duchess de Delille, could not bethe equal of a Greek sailor, who dealt every evening with unheard-ofluck, causing the crowd to feel suspicious and think evil thoughts.

  "They insist that I get a man to deal for me. He must appear as mybanker, although every one knows that the capital is mine. I thoughtthat you might do me this favor. I like to think of our going togetherinto this business which means life or death to me! Besides, I am sureof success if you deal. And what an event! How they would bet! PrinceLubimoff playing the banker!"

  But she did not continue. Michael interrupted her with a decisivegesture of refusal. It made no difference what she said. He wasindignant at the very idea that people should see him seated at thegreen table, playing with money that did not belong to him, and havingAlicia at his back. Besides, he was sure of losing.

  The Duchess hastily left him. Time was flying, and any minute they mightgive out the bank. She believed once more in her good star as she saw ayoung man timidly slipping through the crowd.

  "Spadoni! Spadoni!"

  The pianist grew pale on hearing her. "Oh, Duchess!" He trembled andstammered with emotion. _He_ dealing in the _Sporting-Club_ before anelegant opera night crowd, handling thousands of francs, with all eyesfixed on him! It was the crowning moment of his career; after that hecould die happy.

  Two players had asked for the bank, the famous Greek and a manufacturerfrom Paris, who had gotten fabulously rich making munitions. Spadonialso presented himself, carrying in a purse the fifteen thousand francswhich were necessary in order to take charge of the bank. Lots were tobe drawn among the three petitioners. An employee of the Club took awicker basket that held ten numbered balls and after shaking it, threwout three on the table: one for each. Alicia mingling with them withmasculine familiarity, almost clapped her hands with joy. Luck hadfavored Spadoni, the bank was his. But the pianist, respectful of theprivileges due to genius, showed his sense of profound humility insmiles and expressions of face and eyes that seemed to beg pardon of theGreek, his rival.

  The Greek was a stout man with a figure that almost formed a square,with a dark shiny complexion, black mustache and eyes that were somewhatslanting, and had a fixed aggressive look, suggesting those of a wildboar. His ancestors had been pirates in the Archipelago, and he, findingthis heroic career cut off, had become a smuggler in his youth. Spadoni,somewhat intimidated by the majesty of the great man, stammered excuseswith his eyes fixed on the Greek's shining shirt-bosom, adorned withpearls, and his gray silk vest that covered a heavy paunch. But theGreek replied, with an ill-humored grunt, walking away after favoringthe Duchess with a bow like one of those he had seen on the stage.Although he scarcely knew how to read, the Greek was posted on theproper way of treating a lady who declares war.

  It was twelve o'clock. The gambling stopped at the roulette wheels andthe _trente et quarante_ tables. The crowd was gathering in the baccaratroom. The news had gone around: The pianist Spadoni, considered by everyone as a pleasing parasite, was going to occupy the place that had beenheld on former evenings by the Greek, but in reality the bank belongedto the Duchess de Delille.

  A triple row of people formed around the table, jamming together to geta better view over adjoining shoulders.

  Spadoni smiled, but finally the ironic curiosity fixed on his personbegan to make him nervous. Many of those who were gazing on him wereimportant personages and had always inspired him with deep respect.Fortunately, he felt the Duchess at his back, seated there with an airof ownership, and watching him with a look of authority. If he made anymistake, the great lady was capable of striking him.... Courage andforward march! The _croupier_, sitting opposite to collect and pay thebets, was shuffling the cards, before putting them in a small doublebox, from which the banker was to draw them. Poor banker! The crowd,considering his elevation something quite extraordinary, was ready tolaugh no matter what happened. As he sat down in the presidential chair,the onlookers considered the pianist's embarrassment very amusing, andan unrestrained laughter greeted his appearance in the seat ofauthority. He asked the _croupier_ a question in a low voice, and thesame explosion of merriment was repeated. The women were the mostdemonstrative as they thought their ridicule might pass over Spadoni'shead, and reach the woman who had placed him there. The musician's lookof surprise at this unexplainable hilarity only served to prolong it tothe point of a general uproar. They all laughed contagiously on seeinghis comical inability to understand the situation. But a rough voice putan end to the merriment.

  "Bank!"

  It was the Greek. He had seated himself on Spadoni's right, with theangry look of a person who is conscious of an enormous injustice andfeels it is necessary to remedy it. He could not tolerate the fact thatthis grotesque person should occupy the same place in which he had beenadmired every evening. Neither did he consider it admissible that awoman should mix in affairs that belong entirely to men. He had the samescandalized and astonished feeling of a person witnessing somedisarrangement in the rhythmic order of Nature. The world was upsidedown: apprentices were trying to be masters; class distinctions were notbeing respected, such nonsense must be stopped once for all. "Cards!"

  The Prince trembled. Alicia's fifteen thousand francs were in danger.That man was going to prevent the bank from continuing. If the Greekwere to win, the entire capital bet by Alicia would vanish; if he lost,her money would be doubled. But he was sure to win. When a man as luckyas he dared do that!...

  Spadoni was overwhelmed on hearing the great man's voice. Instinctivelyhe turned his eyes in the direction of the Duchess, but withdrew them atonce, still more overwhelmed by her motionless features and the hardlook that seemed to strike his shoulder, as though he were to blame.

  The double box, quite ready, was awaiting his reach. He dealt cards tothe right and left, and then drew his own.

  The Greek showed his cards, throwing them down on the board. "Eight." Amurmur of approval arose around the table. The admirers of his good luckrejoiced as though it were a triumph of their own. From the oppositeside he took cards which the _croupier_ offered him, and showed themafter a previous rapid examination of them. The murmur was now one ofamazement. Eight again! He was going to win. It was almost impossiblefor the banker to make a higher point than that.

  Spadoni, pale, his brow glazed with sweat, turned his cards over. Thepublic greeted them with a suppressed exclamation: "Nine!"

  The very ones who had laughed at him, considered this result quitenatural. "Luck always protects the simple-minded."

  And as the Greek handed over the fifteen thousand francs to the_croupier_, who acted as a depository for the bank, the pianist bowedmodestly. A few superstitious gamblers considered that the Duchess hadshowed excellent judgment in confiding her fate to this simple fellow.

  Alicia's eyes sought Michael in the triple oval of heads. She smiled athim slightly. Her features had lost the hard, fixed look with which shehad faced the exciting moment. She felt entirely sure of her triumph.And anxious to amaze the onlookers by her imperturbable calm, she took agolden cigarette case and an ivory mouthpiece from her purse and beganto smoke.

  The pianist, after this first moment of success, played with a certainassurance. The Duchess, sitting motionless at his back, seemed tocommunicate her confidence to him. He dealt several times successfully,and as the money in the bank was considerably increased, the cupidity ofthe gamblers was aroused. Those who laughed at Spadoni's clumsiness, nowfrowned with aggressive interest, taking part in the playing. Thus asthe capital increased, the stakes grew higher. Every one felt there wasgoing to be a great and exciting game. The banker had forgotten theDuchess and his own humbleness. He imagined that what he was winning washis own; he believed he had di
scovered the secret mentioned by Novoa,which was going to win those fabulous sums, on which his imagination hadplayed so often as he wrote dozens and dozens of zeros on a piece ofpaper. What a night! And to think that his friend, the scientist, wasnot there to witness his triumph!

  Lubimoff withdrew from the table. It hurt him to see Alicia's forcedserenity, and her manner of smoking while she watched the progress ofthe gambling with feline eyes. Luck was going to change any moment. Thismad continual winning could not go on. The Greek was making an effort tohide his anger, playing and losing like an ordinary bettor. He couldnot call "bank" until a second deal began after all the cards in thedouble box were exhausted. But he stuck to his original bet with thetenacity of a bull dog, convinced that sooner or later he would succeedin getting the better of this mockery of chance. He had more money thanAlicia and her representative, he would be able to hold out againstfate, and in the end could beat them.

  The Prince went to the bar, passing the time by sipping two Americanmixed drinks, which were sweet and bitter at the same time, and heavywith alcohol. He wanted to become slightly intoxicated, in order to feelhimself on the same level with the woman who was appealing sodesperately to luck.

  He found himself alone. The entire Club was huddled together in the_baccarat_ room. Michael lamented the fact that Castro was not at theSporting-Club. They would have been able to chat together as they hadthe afternoon that Alicia succeeded for the first time in clutching thegolden wings of the Chimera. Perhaps his absence was due to an orderfrom the "General". He himself had come there dragged by a woman!

  A dull murmur came from the gambling room. Shortly afterwards he saw afew of the onlookers entering the cafe, and standing at the bar todrink. They were talking in tones of wonder and amazement. Hearing thename of the Greek repeated several times, Michael listened. The formerhad shouted "bank" at the beginning of a new hand, when the bankcontained a hundred and forty thousand francs. No one but that luckyfellow was capable of such daring. He drew eight, but the pianistimmediately showed his cards. Nine once more. And the _croupier_ hadswept the Greek's one hundred and forty thousand into the bank. What anight! And to think that that fool of a Spadoni was the man who wasdoing such wonders!

  A few women passed the door of the bar with an ill-humored air,gesticulating among themselves. They appeared scandalized and annoyed bythe Duchess de Delille's good fortune, in spite of the fact that none ofthem had lost a cent in the play. Such luck was unnatural; there musthave been some cheating. They could not say in what the cheatingconsisted, but it existed undoubtedly.

  Later they saw the Greek, followed by two admirers. His face wassweating, his shirt-bosom wrinkled, and his vest had worked up, showinghis shirt between the gray silk points and his belt. He was shrugginghis shoulders scornfully. The world was upside down: there was no suchthing as logic any more. That was why the war was going so badly!

  And the Greek walked away in the direction of the subterranean passage,to return to the Hotel de Paris. He did not care to see any more of it:it was a night for lunatics!

  Neither did the Prince care to be a witness, and he remained in hisarmchair, asking for another cocktail. In front of the door he could seepassing those whom another's good luck had embittered, and were fleeing,and those who were arriving, attracted by the news of the event.

  He remained alone, like a spectator who stays in the lobby of a theaterand listens to the far-off pulsing thrills of the audience. Longintervals of silence passed. Later, there was a murmur, a sigh from thecrowd, a buzz of exclamations circulating in low tones. Was Alicia stillwinning? Or was he going to see her appear like the Greek, shrugging hershoulders at the absurdity of fate?

  He asked for still another glass; and gazing at the spirals of smokefrom his cigar, he was falling asleep. Suddenly he sat up, imagining hehad received a sharp blow on his shoulders. It was a mere illusion! Hewas alone. Gazing about him, he noticed the clock. It was two. He stoodup and slowly walked toward the _baccarat_ room.

  The crowd had thinned out, but all those who had remained were taking ahand in the play. The enormous sum amassed by the Bank was a temptation.No need to fear that the winners would not be paid! Even the merespectators who spend the night on their feet, sharing other people'semotion, were risking their money _louis_ by _louis_, hoping that thisburst of luck which wholly favored the bank, would change in favor ofthe crowd.

  The first thing that Michael saw was an enormous heap of thousand francnotes, five thousand franc chips, and chips and bills of variousamounts. It was a fortune. Then he noticed Alicia, sitting motionless inher seat, just as he had left her, with the expressionless face of acaryatid. Her eyes merely looked mechanically back and forth from thatheap of wealth to the hands of the banker. She was smoking, smoking. Ona tray which a lackey had placed reverently beside the victorious womanthere was a pile of gold-tipped cigarette butts.

  She seemed stupefied by her success, by the monotony of her constantluck.

  The pianist was beginning to display a certain somnolence in his looksand in his voice. Mere winning seemed something insipid to him, afterthe flight of that admirable Greek. Similarly other famous gamblers haddisappeared, as though not caring to authenticate by their presence suchan absurd run of luck. The only real competitors were some Englishpeople from Beaulieu, whose automobiles were waiting below. Thisextraordinary game interested them, as though it were some unusualsport; they were anxious to fight against the Bank's good luck, withBritish tenacity, merely for the pleasure of overcoming it. The women,bony and distinguished looking, with very low necks and long trails totheir gowns, ejaculated "oh!" in amazement, each time the _croupier_with his rake carried off their heavy bets, while the men drew frominner pockets of their Tuxedos, new handfuls of bills, greeting theirdefeat with metallic laughter.

  In one blow Spadoni lost twenty thousand francs. Lubimoff had the fatalpresentiment of a sailor who feels beneath his feet the shudder of theship about to be torn open, of the soldier who feels instinctively thebeginning of his rout.

  Another blow; and the bank lost again.

  Michael cautiously drew near the chair occupied by Alicia.

  "It is two o'clock. It is time to go home," he murmured, whispering hiswords into her hair as he bent over her. "You are going to have a run ofbad luck: I can feel it coming. Tell Spadoni to get up."

  She raised her eyes and looked at him in surprise. She seemedintoxicated, unable to make out what he was saying, and showed herrefusal by a slight shake of her head. She had faith in her own luck.

  Fortune saw to it that her confidence was justified. The banker waswinning again, carrying off all the sums placed on both sides of thetable. But this did not convince the Prince. He continued to feelafraid, and his worry made him brutal.

  He went over and stood at Spadoni's back, in order to drop a word to himdiscreetly, while looking in another direction. "You ought to stop atonce. Call the game off. It's long after closing time anyhow."

  The banker turned his face and looked up at him in order to see whatsage was dropping these words of wisdom from on high. "Oh, yourHighness!" This discovery was accompanied by a proud smile, evincingsatisfaction that Prince Lubimoff should have witnessed the greatestdeed of his life.

  And he went on dealing.

  Michael grew angry. This idiot, overwhelmed by his triumph, did notunderstand him, and if he did understand him, he was refusing to obey.The voice of the Prince, falling with a slow tremor, reached the ears ofthe man below. "Spadoni, you incredible fool of a pianist"--here two orthree oaths in various languages.--If Spadoni did not obey him at oncehe would jerk him out of the chair with a thud, and give him a kick thatwould send him flying through the windows!

  "The last deal!" said the banker.

  And when he stopped dealing, many of the spectators breathed freely,satisfied and relieved by the end of a game that seemed to have beenunder an evil spell. Others gazed with astonishment and envy at theenormous heap of money in the bank, as the _croupier_ put it in order,fo
rming bundles of bills, and straightening the various colored chips incolumns.

  The sum ran from mouth to mouth: four hundred and ninety-four thousandfrancs! A little more and it would have been half a million. Rarely hadsuch a rapid winning been seen.

  Spadoni, as though he were the master of these riches, was putting theminto a little wicker basket. He was trembling with emotion. He was goingto walk through the crowd of onlookers carrying this treasure, just ason former nights he had seen his hero pass, with the air of a conqueror.In comparison with this what did he care for the applause he hadreceived as a pianist!

  But eager hands snatched the basket from him.

  "No! let me! let me!" It was the Duchess; it was no longer necessary anymore for her to claim indifference. That money was hers. She had becometransfigured by coming out of her eager trance-like silence. Her eyeswere shining with a triumphant gleam, her brow was pearled with sweat,her cheeks, which were intensely pale, quivered. Carrying the basket,with her arms held out before her, she slowly passed among the groups,with priestly majesty, walking in the direction of the cashier's cage.

  Spadoni remained beside the Prince. He, too, was perspiring, and hisfeatures were pale with emotion.

  "What a night, Your Highness! What a night!"

  He looked proudly at every one, but smiled humbly at the owner of VillaSirena. He must make the Prince forget his refusal of moments before,and the terrible threats which had been visited upon it.

  A moment later Alicia returned to them, carrying a paper in herhand-bag.

  The pianist's enthusiasm overflowed.

  "Oh, Duchess! Divine Duchess!"

  He kissed one of her bare arms, then a shoulder. Alicia smiled at thispublic homage. The poor pianist, no matter what he might do, could notcompromise her.

  "Thanks, Spadoni, you may count on my gratitude. Go ahead and decidewhat you want, a house, a yacht, or perhaps a piano with golden keys."

  Michael listened in amazement. She was speaking in all sincerity: asthough her fortune had turned her mind.

  But the pianist left them. He felt he must be alone. By the Duchess'side he was obliged to share his glory, contenting himself with but afragment of it. And he went off to join the English people fromBeaulieu, who, proclaiming him the most interesting phenomenon they hadmet in all their travels, were anxious to meet and share a bottle ofchampagne with him.

  Alicia and the Prince walked toward the cloak room.

  "I have deposited my winnings with the cashier of the Club," she said,showing him the receipt. "I am not going to carry so much money home atnight. To-morrow I shall come to take it to the bank. I need some one toaccompany me. Send me the Colonel: he is a fighter and must have arevolver."

  Then, remembering something important, her features took on a gravelook.

  "I need not say that to-morrow we will straighten our account. Don'tthink I have forgotten what I owe you: the twenty thousand francs fromthe other day, and your mother's three hundred thousand. It will all bepaid."

  Michael showed the astonishment which this promise caused him by aprolonged laugh. Really, her winning had affected her brain. A pianowith golden keys for the other man, and now hundreds of thousands offrancs for him. The fortune recently acquired in two hours seemed to heras extraordinary and limitless as her good luck itself had been.

  "What I want," he added, in a low tone, ceasing to laugh, "what I wantfrom you, you know very well."

  She stopped him with a caressing look and a discreet whisper which wasequivalent to a promise.

  They descended the large stairway in the Club, and were standing in thevestibule, she wrapped in a silk cape embroidered with gold and adornedwith rich furs, which recalled her evenings after the opera in Paris;he, with his overcoat open and a soft silk-lined hat on his head.

  The employees in the vestibule, informed of what had happened in thegambling rooms, hurried to the glass door in a hope of a handsome tip."A carriage for the Duchess!"

  But she wanted to walk in the silence of the night. She was numbed fromremaining motionless so long, and felt the need, like every one whofeels happy, of prolonging the joy of her triumph by a long walk.

  She descended the outer stairway leaning on Michael's arm. They passedbetween the drivers and the few chauffeurs who were standing about ingroups, waiting for the owners of their machines, or for possiblepatrons.

  They went down into the cool night air, with their eyes still tired,from the splendor of the illumination, their skins hot from the heavyatmosphere of the gaming rooms. They both noticed that it was amoonlight night, with a sad, waning moon that was beginning to dropbehind the dark barrier of the Alps. The submarine menace kept the cityin darkness. At long intervals, pale lamps, the glass of which waspainted blue, cast above themselves a narrow circle of funereal light.

  After a few steps, they grew accustomed to the darkness. In the streetthe ground was divided into two bands, one a pale, dim white reflectedfrom the dying moon, the other dark, with the heavy black shade ofebony. Instinctively, they walked along the dark sidewalk, as thoughafraid of being seen. They wound along through a curving, slopingstreet, the same that made its way underground by the Pompeian corridorand which the Prince had taken a few hours before.

  At their backs they could still hear the conversations of the drivershidden by a turn in the street, the voices of the Club servants callingby the owners' names for the carriages; the stamping of the horses,shaking off sleep as they waited, and the first humming of the motorsthat began once more to function. Michael, who was walking along insilence, with a desire to get away from there as soon as possible andseek absolute solitude, on seeing her pause, was obliged to stop. Shehad anticipated his thoughts: she did not care to go any farther.

  "I must reward you!" she murmured. "I told you that at any event youwould gain by coming, even though I should lose. There ... there."

  Her bare arms, freeing themselves from the silken cape, closed about hisshoulders, forming a tight ring; submissively her mouth sought his,humbly abandoning itself, with a desire of giving happiness.

  At the end of the street a sudden illumination flared up, making thescene stand out against the shadows, like a flash of lightning. It wasthe searchlight of an automobile. She did not move, she was not afraidof being surprised: people were mere phantoms, without any realitywhatsoever. Nothing existed in the world at that moment save themselvesand the heap of paper bills, and pieces of ivory guarded in the steelvault.

  All his life Michael remembered that night. The clocks were doubtlessmad, turning like his head, which seemed in a whirl, following therhythm of sweet music. He had a feeling that they passed the same placeseveral times, going back and forth as they walked, without knowing whatthey were doing. What difference did it make? The important thing wasthat they were together. There was a moment in which they both seemed toawaken, finding themselves seated on a bench, in the Casino Square. ThePrince was sure of it. He had looked at the clock on the facade. It wasthree o'clock! It seemed impossible, he firmly believed that only a fewminutes had passed since they left the Club. And they were obliged towalk away, annoyed by the curiosity of a civilian who was doing policeduty in war time, a member of the Prince's militia in citizen's clothes,with a colored band on his arm and a revolver at his belt.

  Once more they walked through the deserted streets or along the publicgardens, closed at that hour. Her body was thrown back, with her capeopen, she was hanging limp upon his arm which was thrown about herwaist, and she offered a tensely drawn throat and an upturned face to arain of kisses. She looked up at her companion, with eyes dreamy withlove. Her caresses rose slowly and voluptuously in a crescendo, as seaflowers and stars arise from the blue depths in search of light.

  Replying to the mute appeal of the eyes that were imploring from above,she murmured several times, in a faraway voice, as though talking in adream:

  "Yes, all you wish ... all you wish!"

  More aggressive in his passion, he buried his free arm in the warmcircle
of her cape, drawing her closer to him.

  They walked along in a wavering course, imagining they were going in astraight line; in certain spots they both stopped at the same time,without knowing why. Their loitering caused a commotion in the villas.The gardeners' dogs howled furiously at these intruders, thrusting theirnoses against the iron gates. This howling sounded to the lovers likebarbaric but agreeable music, feeling benevolently toward everythingthat surrounded them, they imagined themselves the lords of creation,just as at that moment they were masters of the night. Nothing savethemselves existed in the world.

  Michael, obeying an obscure impulse he did not understand, spoke to herof her son. She would recover him at any moment now, and her happinesswould be complete.... Immediately he repented having awakened thismemory, which might break the enchantment in which they were living. Butshe showed no emotion.

  "Yes, I will recover him," she murmured. "I am sure of it. My good luckwill not forsake me. It was time, after suffering so long."

  And once more she abandoned herself to the present moment. They wereboth surprised to find themselves in the street where Villa Rosa waslocated. After wandering about at random, instinctively they had finallycome there.

  The Prince, emboldened by the long walk filled with kisses andabandonment, became urgent.

  "Let me come in," he murmured. "No one will see me.... I will go awaybefore the break of dawn."

  Alicia stopped short as though suddenly awakening. It was her firstgesture of refusal during the entire night. The gardener was surelywaiting, perhaps Valeria had not yet gone to sleep. "Oh, no!"

  Lubimoff, in desperation, spoke of their walking together to VillaSirena.

  "So far!" continued Alicia, growing calmer at every moment, as thoughshe were entirely awakened. "Besides, that place is a barracks; a housefull of men. And that Castro who tells everything to the 'General'! No,no, I shall never go there. What madness!"

  Michael's look of sadness, his gesture of dismay, touched her. Shepassed her hand over his features with a motherly caress.

  "My poor boy: Don't look like that, be patient awhile. To-morrow; Ipromise you that it will be to-morrow."

  She, who in former times had dared the most atrocious scandal withtranquil lack of shame, hesitated and stammered as she spoke of the nextday. She seemed like a young girl struggling between love and a fear ofcompromising her future in society.

  To-morrow! To-morrow he might come at three in the afternoon.... No, notat three; four o'clock was better. Valeria surely would have gone out bythat time. She would send her maid to Nice to do some shopping; thegardener and his wife would be busy outside the house.

  "But in Heaven's name, be careful! If you can manage so that theneighbors don't see you, it will be much better."

  And the famous Prince Lubimoff visibly moved, like a boy planning hisinitiation into love, and prematurely stirred by its mysteries, assentedto this counsel.

  He insisted, in spite of her protests, on going with her to the gate ofthe Villa.

  "If you were any one else, all right! It is quite natural that a friendshould accompany me at such an hour; but you!... I am afraid that everyone will guess our secret."

  It was not until the gate was closed and Alicia's adorable figure waslost in the darkness, that the Prince could decide to go away.

  He was obliged to walk the long distance to Villa Sirena, andnevertheless the road seemed short to him. Memories and promisesaccompanied him. His step had never been lighter, he seemed to beadvancing through air in which the laws of gravitation had beenlessened, on a planet wrapped in a perpetual night of springtime, inwhich the air, the dim trees and the objects lost in the darkness abouthim, vibrated with a poetic rhythm.

  His sleep was restless, but he arose serene and in high spirits. Heremembered the errand Alicia had asked him to do. She needed a warrior,with a revolver if possible, to escort her in transferring her fortunefrom the Club vaults to the bank. The Colonel, deeply impressed at herstroke of luck, went out to perform this task. "Poor Duchess! In the endGod always protects the good."

  Michael spent the entire morning attending to his personal adornment.His attempts at leading a simple, country life in retirement at VillaSirena had not made him forget the hygienic care to which he wasaccustomed since his childhood. But now it was a question of somethingmore; he wanted to make himself look well, and heighten with exquisiteand intimate attentions the individuality of his physique, which hesuddenly felt had been rather roughly treated by time.

  He had his old valet go over the wardrobe he had acquired in formerdays. He remembered certain under-garments that had merited women'spraise. He was as desirous for novelty and seductiveness as a womandressing for a long-awaited rendezvous. Besides, he chose a suit that hehad never worn before in Monte Carlo, a new hat, and a modest tie. Herecalled her apprehension, and her request that he should enter unseen.

  As he was doing all this, a sinking feeling, of lack of confidence inhimself, began to assail him. It was the feeling of uneasiness like thatof a student before examination, like that of a dramatist watching fromthe wings for the fate of his play, like that of a man about to fight aduel. He had spent so many weeks desiring without avail! He hadrenounced love so long ago! And the thought of Alicia aroused in himboth eagerness and terror.

  The Colonel returned about noon. He had performed his duties. He toldthe news with modest brevity, as though he had just accomplishedsomething very important. Michael almost envied him, because he had seenAlicia. "How is she?"

  "Beautiful, as beautiful as ever. Somewhat pale, as was natural aftersuch an excitement as that of last night! But gay, very happy, talkingconstantly about the Marquis. It is easy to guess that she feels astrong affection for him."

  They had lunch alone. Spadoni was going out in society, after histriumph. Perhaps he was in Beaulieu with his new friends, theEnglishmen. Toledo had met Castro going into the Hotel de Paris, whereDona Clorinda lived. Doubtless they were having lunch together to talkover the winnings of the Duchess. Atilio had even pretended he did notunderstand when the Colonel talked to him about the event. Envy, ofcourse! The Prince shrugged his shoulders. People were mere phantoms asfar as he was concerned, and evil passions were illusions. There wereonly two realities: he and what was awaiting him.

  After lunch he dressed with such attention to the minutest details thatthe absurdity of it made him smile. He even changed his tie, after hewas dressed, looking for another of a quieter color. "Half-past two." Helooked at himself from head to foot in the mirror: a dark gray suit, tanshoes, and a light felt hat with broad brim turned down to protect hiseyes from the sun. No one had ever seen Prince Lubimoff dressed in sucha manner. From a distance one might have taken him for one of thetravelers who visit the Riviera in passing, and come to make theacquaintance of roulette at Monte Carlo in an afternoon, and go awayagain immediately.

  Three o'clock! He left Villa Sirena. It was a long way and he wanted towalk it. The exercise would fortify his will and dispel the doubt whichwas assailing him anew. He thought of how he had performed the samesupreme intimate act so many times in former years, as somethingordinary and almost mechanical. His suspicious isolation during the lastfew months seemed to have numbed him. He felt the lack of confidence ofan athlete who has left off exercising and doubts whether he can summonall his former strength again. Fear at the mere idea of a failurerestored his confidence. Such a thing was impossible! Forward march!

  On reaching Monte Carlo, he climbed the long stone steps as far as thestreets of Beausoleil. He considered it advisable to go out of his waythus to carry out in the fullest detail the counsels of prudence thatAlicia had given him.

  He planned to enter her street from above, where there were no houses.In this way he would avoid any of her neighbors who at that hour mightbe going down town.

  Above the building plots where houses were going up and the stairwayswhich were winding down the slope, he could overlook a large expanse ofsea, and on the shore the groves of the gardens, wit
h a bird's-eye viewof the huge mass of the Casino, with its green tiles and the yellowcupolas of its halls, the wide square, the little circular garden of the"Camembert," and around it numerous people the size of ants.

  The Prince had a feeling of pity for those pigmies. Unhappy men! Theywere going to gamble, to shut themselves up between four walls, underartificial light, with no other dreams than those of money. For himsomething better was awaiting; for a few hours he was going toexperience the one interesting intoxication of life. Then he laughedwith pity at a certain lunatic, his double, who had tried to found aclub group of "women's enemies." Imagine hating love, and trying to livewithout women; poor Prince Lubimoff!

  It was now four o'clock. Passing among tiny gardens which seemed milesaway from a crowded city, he entered Alicia's street. The red roof ofVilla Rosa was peeping out from among the trees, almost at his feet. Hekept on descending. His legs trembled slightly, and he stopped for amoment to regain his poise, raising his hand to his breast. Rounding abend, all of the street that was built up appeared, straight and gentlysloping down to where it joined one of the avenues of Monte Carlo.

  No one was in sight, and he hastened to slip into Villa Rosa before anyneighbors appeared. He passed the gardens rapidly, with the air of a manafraid of being late at a game of cards. He found the gate half open. Itwas a good sign: Alicia had thought of facilitating his entry.

  He crossed the little garden, and thought he saw the frightened face ofthe gardener, peeping over some shrubbery for a moment, then hidingagain precipitously. There was something strange about that man'scuriosity and his look of fear. But he was hurrying away, and the Princewas pleased at his discretion.

  With a flutter of emotion, he climbed the four steps of the door. Witheach one there awoke in his imagination a fresh dream picture, softlyrose-colored like women's flesh, a sweet unconfessable vision whichsuddenly brought back his past. More with his memory than with his senseof smell, he perceived in the atmosphere a well-known perfume, herperfume. Everything seemed to be whirling about him with hazy contours.There was a buzzing in his ears; desire electrified him drawing hismuscles taut, just as in his happiest days. And with the bearing of aconqueror, he pushed open the door, which was unlocked.

  A woman came forward to meet him in the vestibule, a woman whosepresence caused him to draw back.

  Valeria! What was she doing there? What sort of a farce was this?

  The young woman tried to speak, and he, too, wished to speak at the sametime. But neither was able.

  Another woman appeared, opening the door abruptly. It was Alicia, withher clothes in disorder and her hair wildly streaming. On seeing thePrince, she raised her arms and came forward, impetuous and silent, asthough to embrace him. At last!... What did he care if Valeria werepresent: he did not see her. On the other hand, Alicia seemed differentto him; taller than ever, and paler, with eyes that suddenly inspiredfear.

  Her arms fell about him, and immediately her whole body seemed tototter, bereft of strength. He felt a panting breast against his own;her arms were as cold as those of a corpse; a rain of hot tears began tobathe his neck.

  "Michael! Michael!" Alicia groaned.

  It was all she could say. She was choking, the sobs catching in herthroat as though a strangling lump were fixed within it.

  The Prince was obliged to summon all his strength to sustain the inertbody. A voice sounded in his ear, with the same low monotonous tone thatis heard in a chamber of death.

  It was that of Valeria, who was also weeping, feeling afresh thecontagion of tears.

  "He is dead! He died a month ago!"

  And she showed him a little yellow paper that had arrived half an hourbefore: a telegram from Madrid.