Part 35 (1/2)

”They are making a tool of you, my poor Gascon,” said M. de Florac, who saw Madame d'Ivry's eyes watching the couple. She presently took the arm of the n.o.ble Count de Punter, and went for fresh air into the adjoining apartment, where play was going on as usual; and Lord Kew and his friend Lord Rooster were pacing the room apart from the gamblers.

My Lord Rooster, at something which Kew said, looked puzzled, and said, ”Pooh, stuff, d.a.m.ned little Frenchman! Confounded nonsense!”

”I was searching you, milor!” said Madame d'Ivry, in a most winning tone, tripping behind him with her noiseless little feet. ”Allow me a little word. Your arm! You used to give it me once, mon filleul! I hope you think nothing of the rudeness of M. de Castillonnes; he is a foolish Gascon: he must have been too often to the buffet this evening.”

Lord Kew said, No, indeed, he thought nothing of de Castillonnes'

rudeness.

”I am so glad! These heroes of the salle-d'armes have not the commonest manners. These Gascons are always flamberge au vent. What would the charming Miss Ethel say, if she heard of the dispute?”

”Indeed there is no reason why she should hear of it,” said Lord Kew, ”unless some obliging friend should communicate it to her.”

”Communicate it to her--the poor dear! who would be so cruel as to give her pain?” asked the innocent d.u.c.h.esse. ”Why do you look at me so, Frank?”

”Because I admire you,” said her interlocutor, with a bow. ”I have never seen Madame la d.u.c.h.esse to such advantage as to-day.”

”You speak in enigmas! Come back with me to the ballroom. Come and dance with me once more. You used to dance with me. Let us have one waltz more, Kew. And then, and then, in a day or two I shall go back to Monsieur le Duc, and tell him that his filleul is going to marry the fairest of all Englishwomen and to turn hermit in the country, and orator in the Chamber of Peers. You have wit! ah si--you have wit!” And she led back Lord Kew, rather amazed himself at what he was doing, into the ballroom; so that the good-natured people who were there, and who beheld them dancing, could not refrain from clapping their hands at the sight of this couple.

The d.u.c.h.ess danced as if she was bitten by that Neapolitan spider which, according to the legend, is such a wonderful dance-incentor. She would have the music quicker and quicker. She sank on Kew's arm, and clung on his support. She poured out all the light of her languis.h.i.+ng eyes into his face. Their glances rather confused than charmed him. But the bystanders were pleased; they thought it so good-hearted of the d.u.c.h.esse, after the little quarrel, to make a public avowal of reconciliation!

Lord Rooster looking on, at the entrance of the dancing-room, over Monsieur de Florac's shoulder, said, ”It's all right! She's a clipper to dance, the little d.u.c.h.ess.”

”The viper!” said Florac, ”how she writhes!”

”I suppose that business with the Frenchman is all over,” says Lord Rooster. ”Confounded piece of nonsense.”

”You believe it finished? We shall see!” said Florac, who perhaps knew his fair cousin better. When the waltz was over, Kew led his partner to a seat, and bowed to her; but though she made room for him at her side, pointing to it, and gathering up her rustling robes so that he might sit down, he moved away, his face full of gloom. He never wished to be near her again. There was something more odious to him in her friends.h.i.+p than her hatred. He knew hers was the hand that had dealt that stab at him and Ethel in the morning. He went back and talked with his two friends in the doorway. ”Couch yourself, my little Kiou,” said Florac. ”You are all pale. You were best in bed, mon garcon!”

”She has made me promise to take her in to supper,” Kew said, with a sigh.

”She will poison you,” said the other. ”Why have they abolished the roue chez nous? My word of honour they should retabliche it for this woman.”

”There is one in the next room,” said Kew, with a laugh, ”Come, Vicomte, let us try our fortune,” and he walked back into the play-room.

That was the last night on which Lord Kew ever played a gambling game.

He won constantly. The double zero seemed to obey him; so that the croupiers wondered at his fortune. Florac backed it; saying with the superst.i.tion of a gambler, ”I am sure something goes to arrive to this boy.” From time to time M. de Florac went back to the dancing-room, leaving his mise under Kew's charge. He always found his heaps increased; indeed the worthy Vicomte wanted a turn of luck in his favour. On one occasion he returned with a grave face, saying to Lord Rooster, ”She has the other one in hand. We are going to see.”

”Trente-six encor! et rouge gagne,” cried the croupier with his nasal tone, Monsieur de Florac's pockets overflowed with double Napoleons, and he stopped his play, luckily, for Kew putting down his winnings, once, twice, thrice, lost them all.

When Lord Kew had left the dancing-room, Madame d'Ivry saw Stenio following him with fierce looks, and called back that bearded bard. ”You were going to pursue M. de Kew,” she said: ”I knew you were. Sit down here, sir,” and she patted him down on her seat with her fan.

”Do you wish that I should call him back, madame?” said the poet, with the deepest tragic accents.

”I can bring him when I want him, Victor,” said the lady.

”Let us hope others will be equally fortunate,” the Gascon said, with one hand in his breast, the other stroking his moustache.

”Fi, monsieur, que vous sentez le tabac! je vous le defends, entendez-vous, monsieur?”

”Pourtant, I have seen the day when Madame la d.u.c.h.esse did not disdain a cigar,” said Victor. ”If the odour incommodes, permit that I retire.”

”And you also would quit me, Stenio? Do you think I did not mark your eyes towards Miss Newcome? your anger when she refused you to dance? Ah!