FOOTNOTES:[18]In our heads five senses dwell,In many ways we use them,But when we love a maiden wellAlas! we quickly lose them.
FOOTNOTES:
[18]In our heads five senses dwell,In many ways we use them,But when we love a maiden wellAlas! we quickly lose them.
[18]
In our heads five senses dwell,In many ways we use them,But when we love a maiden wellAlas! we quickly lose them.
CHAPTER XXII
VIOLETTE NURSES HER FATHER WITH ALARMING RESULTS
Thecomfort of a long railway journey is largely dependent on the number of people travelling in the compartment. Two is the ideal number, as one person can lie outstretched on each side. Two is company but three is none, and is nearly as bad as four, in fact it verges on misery for two out of the three, but five makes comfort impossible.
Such was the state of things in Monsieur Beaupaire's coupé. Monsieur, Madame, and Mademoiselle Beaupaire were congratulating themselves on travelling undisturbed, when a couple of English tourists clambered in—or rather were pushed in just as the train was moving, in spite of the protests and remonstrances of the Beaupaires.
The compartment became unbearably stuffy, all the windows being, as is usual on the Continent, hermetically sealed.
It is the wonder of all Englishmen that 'Foreigners' insist on travelling with all openings for ventilation persistently closed, and equally incomprehensible to the foreigner how Englishmen can travel with the windows open, and not catch their death of cold.
"Phew! this is awfully stuffy," exclaimed the elder of the two Englishmen who answered to the name of Ridgeway, "I can't imagine why these foreigners always insist on having the windows closed. There's not a breath of air in the place, Charley," he said to the younger of the two, "do open the windows, there's a good chap." The young man got up and tugged at the strap at the window—it gave way and he fell backwards on to the feet of the passengers.
"Sorry," he said as he picked himself up, and he proceeded to open the opposite window.
Madame Beaupaire looked daggers at him, and she rubbed the foot on which he had fallen.
Charley suddenly uttered a cry of pain. In attempting to open the second window, the frame had slipped and jammed his finger.
"Confound these carriages," said Charley, "why can't someone invent a fool-proof window which will be provided with a strap that will not come off, and that can be opened without reducing one's fingers to pulp?"
Violette laughed at the wry face he made.
Charley turned round, and seeing her good-looking face lit up with merriment, laughed in concert.
"Well, that's a funny way to introduce yourself," said Violette in good English, but with rather a pretty foreign accent.
Violette evidently had the gift of humour, and Charley fell in with it at once.
"I hope Mademoiselle does not mind the window being open," he said.
"Not in the least as far as I am concerned," she replied. "I only hope papa and mamma will not catch cold."
"Oh, there's no fear of that. May I ask if you are going to Monte Carlo to play?"
"We are going there, certainly, but I don't think we are going to play at the Casino, if that's what you mean."
"Well, we are going there, and you bet we are going to have a shy at the tables."
Violette wondered what the expression could mean.
"How do you shy at the tables?" she asked.
"Surely you know what 'shy' means?" he said.
"Of course I do," she replied, nettled to think he imagined she didn't know English. "I know," she continued, "a girl is shy when she hangs down her head and blushes and simpers when a gentleman speaks to her, but I cannot see how one can shy at the tables at Monte Carlo—unless the crowd is so great that it makes one nervous," she added reflectively.
"Oh," said Charley, who was warming up and becoming very communicative, "shy is one of our wonderful English words, like 'box,' and 'shot' and 'go' and 'make.' They may mean anything and everything."
"But, monsieur, how is one to know what a word means if it may imply anything and everything?"
"That's the beauty of our language. It's a perfect joy. It's so tremendously expressive. If you can't get at the meaning by the context you have to guess it by the tone of the voice, as one does when speaking Chinese. Thus, if you were to say to me 'You'rea nice young man,' it would mean that I wasnota nice young man. Whereas if you were to say 'youarea nice young man' you imply the exact opposite, namely that Iamnice."
"Are you fishing for compliments?" asked Violette, laughing.
"Not exactly, but I feel sure you will say that my last illustration was correct in every respect."
"Oh, you men, you are as vain as peacocks, you think that every girl you meet must at once fall over head and ears in love with you."
"And is not that a very delightful frame of mind to be in?" asked Charley, wondering what she would say next.
Violette laughed heartily at the Englishman's egotism.
"But I assure you, mademoiselle, these little Anglo-Saxon words would fill a dictionary with their shades of meaning. To take an example: the word 'go' has at least a hundred different meanings. Thus we say, 'the clock is going,' whereas it is standing still all the time. 'Go' may mean 'to die,' as in the phrase (he is going)—to succeed (the scheme did not go)—to fare (how goes it?)—to release (let go my hand)—it may mean a misfortune (here's a pretty go)—or an attempt (let's have a go at it)—or——"
"Please, that's enough," cried Violette, "my poor head is in a whirl already. Let us conclude the whole matter by saying that with a dozen of these elastic Anglo-Saxon words of yours one may write a book and express every sentence in Macaulay, Milton and Shakespeare."
"What a pretty wit," said Ridgeway, laughing. "The remarkable thing about the English language," he added, "is that all the words which we use most are not to be found in any dictionary."
Violette opened her eyes in amazement.
"It's a fact, I assure you, mademoiselle."
"What a dreadful language," she replied, "I had no idea English was so difficult. How on earth is the ordinary person to learn it?"
"One does not learn it," said Charley, "it just grows on one. If you try to learn English you never will. The professors of English who are paid to teach you don't know the words themselves, that is, the really useful ones, such as, 'awful,' 'jolly,' 'ripping,' 'rot,' 'blooming,' and thousands of others, and even in the very best French dictionaries you will find the English equivalent which is given, as something which has not the remotest connection with the word you have looked up."
"Surely you are joking, monsieur," she replied.
"Not in the least I assure you," he answered. "I see you have a Gasc's pocket dictionary, mademoiselle, which is one of the very best. Do me the favour to turn up the word 'cad.'"
Violette did so and read out, "cad—conducteur d' omnibus."
"There you are," he replied, "what did I tell you? Suppose an unfortunate and harmless Frenchman arriving for the first time in London, were to rely on the dictionary and address the conductor of the first 'bus he entered as a cad, by George, he would probably find himself the next moment rolling in the gutter with the conductor on the top of him, and his only excuse would be that he trusted to the dictionary."
Violette looked at him with a mingled expression of amazement and doubt as to whether he was serious or not, and then glanced at her father who was snoring in the corner of the carriage, with a night-cap tied over his ears, while Madame Beaupaire was taking stock of Charley by the aid of a gold-mounted pair of lorgnettes attached to a long tortoise-shell handle.
"Evidently you zink ze English language ees vastly superior to ours, monsieur," said madame, who had spent a summer in England, and picked up enough English to understand the drift of what he had been saying.
"Well, to be candid I do. Just think of its range. Our new dictionary contains a million and a half of words, whereas your language has only——"
"Oh, come on, Charley, don't pull her leg," said Ridgeway.
"Sir!" said madame, sitting bolt upright, and surveying him through her hand magnifiers, "you insult me."
"A thousand pardons, madame. What I said was only a colloquial expression for pulling the long bow."
"Pulling ze vot?" she enquired somewhat suspiciously.
"Pulling the long bow—another colloquial expression much employed by Englishmen. It merely implied a caution to my young friend not to exaggerate so much. I assure you, my dear madame, the remark I uttered had no reference whatever to your legs."
"My vot, sir? I think you are egstremely rude."
"Pray forgive me, madame, I crave your indulgence. May I substitute for the word 'legs,' 'inferior extremities,' or lower limbs?"
Madame got very wrath and turned herself half round, and looked out of the opposite window. Beaupaire had just woken up, and catching the last sentence burst out into a hearty laugh, which had the effect of making his better half still more angry.
"How can you be so cruel as to laugh at me, Jean," she said to her husband, "when you see me insulted like this? Have you no feelings left?"
"Pray calm yourself, my dear. Our friend has not the slightest intention of insulting you. I know the expression well, it is perfectly 'en regle.'"
Madame tossed her head as much as to say "I don't believe you a bit." "Besides," she added, "it is not your place to instruct me in English, and I"—with rising voice—"I vill not sit here quietly vile those impudent Englishmen are insulting me and my daughter."
Beaupaire looked at Ridgeway, and gave a wink and a little chuckle half to himself.
"Don't mind her," he whispered to Ridgeway, as he offered him a cigarette, "the old lady is first rate when you get to know her, but she is a great stickler for etiquette—Spanish, you know—very proud—sixteen quarterings—father a Don—seventh cousin of the King of Spain—and all that sort of thing."
Ridgeway nodded.
"Ha! ha!" continued Beaupaire, laughing, "what you were just saying to madame reminds me of an anecdote of Philip the Second of Spain. It is said that when his first wife was coming to Madrid to be married to him she was met at the frontier by an escort of grandees, and was treated with all the stiff ceremonies of the Spanish Court. The lady had occasion to mention her legs during the conversation, and was at once rebuked by the Grand Chamberlain appointed to wait on her. 'Madame,' he said, 'the Queen of Spain is not permitted to have any legs.' On hearing this the good dame burst into tears, thinking it would be necessary to have them amputated. However, the Grand Chamberlain explained to her with profound genuflexions and much bowing, that it was highly impolite even to suggest that so exalted a personage as her prospective Majesty could possibly possess such parts of her anatomy. When this story was related to the King, it is said to have been the only occasion when that fanatical and gloomy monarch was ever seen to laugh."
Mr. Ridgeway was interrupted by the sudden noise of the brakes—z ... z ... z ... z ... z ... z ... Z ... Z ... Z ... sh ... sh ... sh ... sH ...sh... SH ...H ... H ... H ... H.
The train pulled up in the station just two hours after leaving Paris.
"La Roche," shouted the guard. "Cinque minutes d'arrêt."
It was the first stop. Marcel was snoring vigorously notwithstanding the noise.
Riche woke up with the sudden cessation of movement and the noise of the brakes against the wheels. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
The door opened, and a man with his buxom wife and two children began climbing into the compartment.
"Sh—h," said Riche stepping up to the door and putting his fingers to his lips. "You can't come in, my friend down here has just had a fit. He is subject to sudden outbursts of madness, and might kill you at any moment."
Marcel had just awoke and managed to catch the last sentence of his friend. A quiet smile flitted across his lips, and he closed his eyes again.
The parents exchanged glances as the guard was pushing them in.
"Be quick and get in," said the guard.
"Mais, monsieur, we dare not. This gentleman says his friend is lying down in a fit, and he is quite mad."
The guard hesitated for a moment, and was about to go and call the station master, when Dr. Riche handed him his card. It bore the inscription:—
card
engraved in bold letters. The card decided matters at once, and the guard pushing the family away, closed the door and locked it at the doctor's request.
"Riche," said Marcel the moment the guard had left, "you are a brick. We can now sleep undisturbed until we get to Marseilles."
The next morning they arrived at Marseilles, and everybody got out to stretch their legs and enjoy a good cup of café au lait at the buffet.
The party had a refreshing wash and brush up to enable them to enjoy the delightful sea views of the Côte d'Azur.
It was the early part of the afternoon when the train pulled up at Beaulieu. They drove to the Hotel des Anglais, somewhat tired but in the best of spirits.
The feelings of Céleste and Renée on seeing the Côte d'Azur for the first time cannot be described. The balmy air was filled with the delicious perfumes of a million flowers and fields of new-mown hay. They saw the deep blue sky paling to a delicate turquoise where it touched the sea at the horizon. They saw the water scintillatingwith the sunlight, and its placid surface broken by the white crests of the countless waves. What delighted them most was the exquisite blending of colours, the variations of light and shade, and the luxuriance and wonderful variety of the foliage. Here they saw the loveliest forms of tropical foliage side by side with the more familiar but not less beautiful trees of central and northern Europe. The flowers of the whole world seemed to contribute to the enchanting loveliness of the scene. They saw dense forests of fragrant pine trees, woodland footpaths lined with the sweet alyssum, resembling drifts of scented snow, while the thyme and rosemary formed fragrant patches over the stony sides of the mountains. Higher up the slopes luxuriant groves of pistacia lentiscus or mastic trees could be seen, and bushes of the members of the quassia family, such as the cneorum tricoccum, with its curious triple clusters of berries. In the distance rose the beautiful Mount Boron crowned with the Fort of Montalban, and its slopes covered with tall cistus trees. Dotted here and there were charming villas with delightful gardens, intoxicating the senses with the perfume of lemon and orange. Occasionally the carouba tree could be seen with its wonderful locust-bean pods credited with being the staple food of John the Baptist.
Scattered up and down were olive trees, hoary with age, their trunks knotted and gnarled and twisted like the limbs of caliban. Quite close to Beaulieu they saw sheltered footpaths with hedges on either side lined with roses and geraniums. To the west was the Bay of Villefranche with small gunboats and yachts rocking placidly in the harbour.
"Surely," said the professor, "these must be the gardens of Alcinous with their perpetual summer hemmed in by the mighty salient battlements which form the vanguard of the Alpine chain."
As the members of the party were retiring for the night, Monsieur Beaupaire, who had caught a slight chill on the chest, in spite of what Charley had told him the day before, developed a fit of uncontrollable coughing accompanied with a feeling of oppression on the chest. Dr. Villebois immediately offered his services, which were accepted withgratitude. He prescribed a cough mixture, and ordered a mustard plaster to be applied for five minutes over the whole of the chest.
"Doctor," said Violette, putting her arms in a coaxing way on his shoulders, "may I prepare the plaster myself, as I have done it many times before, and I know so well how to do it."
"Certainly," said Villebois, "nobody could do it better, get it by all means, and put it on as soon as your father is comfortably settled in bed."
Violette, as soon as she had obtained the ingredients, set to work to prepare the plaster. It was quite late by this time, and the messenger had great difficulty in finding a chemist's shop open, to have the medicine made up.
Violette loved nursing and felt a keen pleasure in doctoring her father. She acted on the principle that if one dose will do a certain amount of good, two doses ought to do twice the benefit, and accordingly she spread a very liberal amount of mustard on the linen. When all was ready she went upstairs to his bedroom, but by this time all the lights were turned off, and she crept cautiously along the passage to his room. She opened the door, and a faint light just enabled her to see where her father was sleeping. He was snoring away apparently in a delightful dream, and Violette, unwilling to awake him, did not turn up the light. So in the semi-darkness she tenderly laid bare his chest, and carefully spread the plaster over the surface. The sufferer uttered a groan, but did not wake. Violette wrapped him up snugly and bent down and gave her father a kiss on his forehead, when the light becoming suddenly brighter, she perceived to her horror that it was not her father at all, but Marcel. Terrified at her mistake she gave a little scream, and ran out of the room, the perspiration streaming from her forehead.
"Oh! dear, oh! dear," she exclaimed, "whatever shall I do? Here I have gone into Marcel's room, and kissed him on the forehead and put a huge mustard plaster on his chest, and now I dare not take it off again for fear of waking him up. Oh! what will become of me?" Violette was in despair. Heartily wishing the ground would open and swallow her up, she walked up and down the passagewringing her hands in an agony of mind, and wondering what the end of it all would be. At length Violette went to her bedroom, and falling on her knees burst into a flood of tears. But her tears were soon over as the absurdity of the situation dawned on her. A few minutes later she undressed and was soon in the arms of Morpheus, quite oblivious of the mischief she was creating. Violette had not been in bed more than half an hour when she was awakened by hearing the most appalling noise. Somebody was shouting at the top of his voice, "Help! Help! Murder! Fire! Thieves!" Hastily putting on her slippers and dressing-gown, she ran into the passage. By this time the entire establishment was aroused, and men and women attired in all sorts of costumes came hurrying up the stairs to see what all the row was about. Mine host flew to the fire alarm and rang up the fire brigade without waiting to ascertain the real cause of the mischief. At the same time the portier telephoned to the police. The hubbub and confusion increased every moment. Waiters flew wildly up and down stairs, each one asking his neighbour what all the noise was about.
A few minutes later a fire engine came dashing up and half a dozen firemen with their hatchets and brass helmets ran up the stairs followed by three or four gendarmes in uniform. The proprietor ran towards them with his arms outstretched gesticulating wildly. Violette, who was standing in front of her door, looked up and saw the gentleman who was the author of all the scene rush past her clad in pajamas with an embroidered cap ornamented with a gold tassel, and almost flinging himself into the arms of the landlord. "Voilà!" he shouted, "see what some miscreant has done to me," and he laid bare his chest all blazing red and fearfully inflamed with the mustard, while he shook the offending plaster in monsieur's face. Violette caught sight of his face. Oh, horror, it was Marcel sure enough, his eyes gleaming, his face flushed, and shouting with a voice almost inarticulate with rage and pain.
"If I can only lay my hands on the scoundrel who has done it, I will flay him alive no matter who he may be."
Violette turned scarlet and looked away for fear he should see her. She hurried back to her bedroom and sank down on the sofa, asking herself how she ever dare face him again, and wondering whether he would ever forgive her if he found her out. What added to her misery was that she felt in her heart she really cared for him. At length a feeling of weariness overcame her, and crawling into bed she soon fell asleep.
CHAPTER XXIII
AT BEAULIEU
"The sun upon the calmest seaAppears not half so bright as thee."
Thenext morning Madame Villebois, whose slumbers had been disturbed by the excitement and noise during the night, and who loved ease, was having her chocolate in bed, and studying the menu which the maid had brought up for her special benefit.
"Marie," she said, as her maid propped her back up against the pillows, "you are to be sure to make friends with the chef and bring me a copy of the menus for lunch and dinner as soon as they are printed, and, Marie, fetch me my portemonnaie. See, give him this and tell him to allow you to see how the entrées are prepared, and don't forget the sauces—especially the sauces, do you understand? Oh, I forgot—yes—find out whether he wraps the red mullet in paper soaked in olive oil or butter, be sure and ask him this, as it is most important, and don't forget also to find out how he prepares his gigot à la Mailly, and his poulets à la Villeroy. Do you think, Marie, that he will tell you all this for a small pourboire?"
"Please, madame, I have seen him already and he is a most charming gentleman. He has such a sweet smile and such lovely whiskers. I think if you will leave him to me, madame, I will find out all you want. You know I have my little ways with gentlemen."
"Marie, what do you mean? How dare you take liberties with men? And with cooks of all people! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. I shall have to give you notice."
"Oh, but, madame, if you only saw him. He is such a nice gentleman, he patted me under the chin and gave me a kiss on my lips."
Madame gave a start that nearly threw her out of bed, and stared at her as if she were some new animal at the Zoo.
"Marie, Marie, leave the room this minute. I shall tell my husband the moment I get back to Paris, and he will dismiss you at once when he hears it. Oh, dear, what shall I do? To think you have disgraced the family in this way. I would dismiss you now, you vulgar thing, but—"
"Thank you, ma'am," Marie replied, curtseying with a pout.
"Thank you, indeed. Wait and see what Dr. Villebois will say to you. You dare to simper and smile after this?"
Marie readjusted her pillows, and her lips curled in a defiant smile, for she knew the doctor would take her part every time. Hadn't he on one occasion given her a brooch instead of dismissing her when madame drove her out of the room, and on another occasion a pair of turquoise ear-rings, when she handed her over to her spouse for reprimand and dismissal?
"Can I do anything more for madame?" she replied with her sweetest smile.
"Go away, you hussy. I shall send for the doctor immediately."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Marie again, as she bowed herself out of the room.
"Of all the impudent, brazen-faced minxes I have ever seen, Marie is the worst," said madame to herself, as she heard the door close behind her. "The idea of such a thing! I would have sent her about her business there and then, only I know I cannot do without her. The airs these hussies put on, I don't really know what the world is coming to with their scandalous behaviour. Had it been an officer who kissed her, it would not have mattered—but a cook, with a double chin and whiskers! Holy Mary!" and the good lady crossed herself and sank down among the pillows to dream of the wickedness of femmes de chambre in general, and her own amazingrighteousness. It was half-past nine when the rest of the party sat down to breakfast in the salle à manger of the hotel. Marcel, flushed and tired, entered the room and looked round to see if he could detect the culprit among the numerous guests, and failing that, sat down next to Riche who did his best to soothe his ruffled feelings.
"I hope, my dear chap, that the pain has gone, and that you are none the worse for the practical joke which was played on you last night," said Villebois, standing up and bowing to him as he sat down.
Marcel returned the salutation. "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow with a gorgeous purple silk handkerchief, "no one can imagine what I have suffered. Even Dives could not have experienced worse sensations in his tongue in Hades than I did in my chest. I declare a flogging would not have hurt half as much. You should see my skin, it is all covered with blisters the size of a five-franc piece. If it had not been for my friend Riche who spread a handkerchief covered with Carron oil and dionine over it, I should not have been here this morning to breakfast, that's certain. Oh! if I could only meet the rascal who played me that trick, I would compel him to wear a plaster like mine for a week."
Just at the moment Monsieur Beaupaire was seized with a furious fit of coughing and wheezing. "I am afraid," said Villebois, "the medicine and plaster which I prescribed did not do its work as well as I expected."
"Medicine and plaster!" exclaimed Beaupaire with a look of astonishment. "I never saw either of them, although I remember you gave me the prescription with both remedies written down."
Marcel looked up in surprise and whispered something to Riche, while Violette blushed up to the roots of her hair, and bent down to pick up her napkin which she had purposely dropped. "Oh dear!" she whispered to Céleste who was sitting between her and Riche, "whatever will become of me?" and her face expressed unutterable things.
"Why! what have you done?"
Just then Céleste happened to lean back, and Violette turning half round, caught Riche's eye just as she wasdrinking her coffee, which caused her to swallow it in such a hurry that it nearly choked her. She set her cup down, and whispering into Céleste's ear, walked quickly out of the salle a manger followed by Céleste.
The two girls closed the door, ran quickly upstairs, and locked themselves in Violette's bedroom.
"Now tell me all about it," said Céleste, as they seated themselves on the ottoman.
"Oh! it's too dreadful for words," said Violette. "I asked Dr. Villebois to allow me to prepare the plaster for papa, and put it on him myself. I made a lovely one, and put three times as much mustard on it as I was ordered, as I wanted it to do him ever so much good. Well, I uncovered his chest and spread it carefully over and had just tucked him up and was about to leave when I discovered to my horror that I had entered the wrong room, and had put the plaster on a strange gentleman. I dared not take it off for fear of waking him, and so I crept out of the room on tip-toe. Later on when the people came rushing upstairs I ran to see what was the matter, and found out to my horror that the unfortunate man was—whom do you think?"
"Riche?"
"No, my dear—Marcel! Good Heavens! what shall I do? He will never forgive me."
Céleste gave a little cry of surprise.
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed, putting her arm round Violette's shoulder, "what a dreadful mistake to make, but I am sure, dear, with a little tact, you will be able to put matters right."
"Do you really think he will ever forgive me?" Violette asked, looking into her face for some gleam of hope.
"Oh yes, of course he will. I know Marcel far better than you do. He is really a very nice man, and has far too much sense of humour to be angry for long. Besides, you know the Italian proverb 'Ad ogni cosa e rimedio fuora ch'alla morte.'"
"Thank you ever so much, dear, for your sympathy and advice. I shall be much happier now," and so saying they left the room together.
Meanwhile, Riche had taken in the whole situation.
"I say, my boy," he said to Marcel, "I've found out the culprit at last."
"Who? Where?" cried Marcel in an excited voice.
"Why, that young lady who was sitting on the other side of Céleste."
Marcel turned round and looked at the position indicated.
"Why, you surely don't mean Mademoiselle Beaupaire?"
"Yes, of course I do. I saw her blushing furiously a few minutes ago, and I noticed her turn her face away the moment you happened to look in her direction. Oh, there can be no doubt about it."
"By Jove, I understand it all now, it's as clear as daylight," said Marcel, slapping Riche's thigh. "What a fool I was not to see it before. The explanation is quite simple; she mistook my bedroom for her father's, and as it was dark she put the plaster on the wrong man."
"Ha! ha! you've hit it, my boy, it's immensely funny. Ha! ha!" and Riche and Marcel both held their sides and shook with laughter.
"Oh! my chest, my chest," cried Marcel, "don't make me laugh so," and the tears streamed down his cheeks with the pain caused by his laughing.
"But I say, Riche," he said as he calmed down, "it's a terrible blow to me."
"Why?" asked Riche, looking at him with a curious smile.
"Well, you know I—ahem—have taken quite a fancy to her. She's a ripping girl, and as clever as they make them, and I am afraid this silly mistake has upset the whole apple-cart."
"Are you really so gone on her as all that?" enquired Riche with a wink of his eye.
"Well, I confess I am a bit in love with her. By Jove, Riche, she is the finest girl in all France."
"My word, you must be in love with her," Riche replied, "I had not the least idea that the little blind god had wounded you so deeply; ma foi! but it's becoming serious."
"Really, monsieur, you must not joke at me like this. If you only knew what a splendid girl she is, and how my future happiness depends on my getting her hand, you would not laugh at me."
Riche gave a low whistle. "By Jove," he said to himself, "he is madly in love with her and no mistake."
"Come! let's drop the subject," he said in a voice of despair, "all my hopes are shattered by that cursed plaster. It's finished now, and it is no good crying over spilt milk."
"What nonsense you are talking. My dear boy, it's the finest thing for you that could ever have happened."
"The finest thing that could have happened? What do you mean?"
"My dear fellow, you've got the game in your own hands now. By putting that beastly plaster, as you call it, on your chest, she handed you the trump card. You have only to appear angry to bring her to her knees, and you can name your own conditions of capitulation. Get a diamond ring, my boy, and the sooner the better."
"Do you really think she will let me put it on her finger?"
"If she likes you ever so little, and has no one else on her string she will, especially if you make your declaration of love at the psychological moment."
"And how am I to know when that is?" enquired Marcel in a tone of great anxiety.
"When she comes to beg your forgiveness. But," added Riche, "you must not forgive her right away, you must first play with your fish. Pay out the line until the fish is getting exhausted, and then you will be able to haul it in without any difficulty."
"Upon my soul, Riche, you are an artful card. Where did you manage to learn these things?"
"Ich habe gelebt and geliebt," replied Riche with a smile, humming Schubert's well known air.
Marcel wrung his hand. "Thanks awfully. I will follow your advice to the letter," and going into the hall he picked up his hat and stick and left the hotel arm in arm with his friend to see the beauties and sights of the place, but more especially with the object of purchasing the ring to adorn his divinity's hand, so as to be ready for the attack when they returned for lunch.
Meanwhile Delapine was walking arm in arm with Monsieur Payot and Renée up and down the broad terrace of the hotel.
"Where are we now?" said Payot to Delapine who was well acquainted with the Riviera.
"We are at present in the little seaside town of Beaulieu, which may be called a suburb of Villefranche, the town you see on the right snugly nestled in the little bay formed by the promontory over there," and he pointed with his stick.
"What is the town still further away on our right?" said Renée as she stood looking at a handsome steam yacht which was making its way towards the bay of Villefranche.
"That is Nice which we passed last night in the train, and further away you can just catch sight of Var and Antibes. That white streak there is the carriage road—the Corniche—one of the most celebrated roads in Europe which extends along the entire coast of the Riviera. Dante trod the road when an exile from Italy, and it suggested to him a road out of purgatory. In those days it was a terrible pass hewn out of the solid rock, now rising to giddy heights, and now dropping almost to the sea level. At times half hidden by great projecting rocks, and again splashed by mountain streams and disappearing into deep gorges covered with trees and ferns, it formed a majestic image to Dante of the ascent from the Purgatorial Sea."
"But, Henri, it does not seem dreadful at all to me."
"Not now; thanks to modern engineering, instead of being a rugged road on which a slip was frequently fatal, it is now a magnificent carriage road as smooth as this terrace and quite as safe. We shall walk along it this afternoon, when we will inspect the buildings and grounds of Monte Carlo, and I think you will say that you could never be tired of viewing such lovely scenery as we shall see, such wonderful variety does it offer.
"Look," he said, pointing with his stick to the verdure-clad mountains which formed the background to the picture, "how beautiful it is. See how the slopes are covered with olive, almond, carouba, and pine trees which grow here in such perfection as you will seek for elsewhere in vain. What could be finer? See far away in the distance the chain of the Alpes Maritimes with their summits decked with snow. Now come with me round the terrace. Do you see that great isolated rock towards Nice, standing out all by itself surmounted by a great ivy-coloured castle?That is the castle of Eza. See how brown with age it looks, clothed with pellitory and ivy."
"When was it built, Henri?"
"It dates from the time of the Saracens at the beginning of the ninth century, just after the death of Charlemagne during the golden age of the great Haroun al Raschid."
"Look, Henri, at that immense bank of rhododendrons forming a crimson carpet above the Corniche road. What a feast of colour for a painter."
"Yes," said the professor, "and look at that ruined temple with its Doric pillars entwined with African ivy. There, don't you see it—just above the quaint village of Turbia, or La Turbie as it is generally called, between those two limestone peaks, high above the rocky promontory of Monaco, and close to the fearful precipices of the Tête du chien. That is the triumphal tower, or Trophaea, built by Augustus to commemorate his victory over the Ligurians, and which marked the boundary between Gaul and Italy. In its perfect condition it formed a magnificent tower crowned as it was by a statue of the Emperor over twenty feet high. It must have presented an imposing appearance when surrounded by the camp of the Roman legions. What a contrast between the turmoil of war, the marching to and fro of the soldiers, the clashing of arms in those days, and the peaceful single white street bordered by houses and inns on either side, as it exists to-day. Now only a mighty ruin remains to recall its former greatness."
"Oh, yes," said Renée, "I remember I read about it in Tennyson'sDaisy."
"Why, Renée, what a memory you have!"
"Not at all, Henri. You see I knew I was going to the Riviera, so I read up all I could about the place; and now the places seem like old friends."
"That is the way to travel, it is the only way to enjoy the scenery."
"Where are we going when the rest of the party returns?" asked Renée.
"Do you see that steep stony path near the funicular railway leading down the hill from La Turbie?"
"Yes, I do quite well."
"Well, do you notice where it leads to?"
"Oh yes, it leads down to the rock covered with houses which I see to the East."
"That is Monaco. Down below on the West—you cannot see it from here—is the bathing beach of Condamine, and the chapel of Saint Devote, the patron saint of Monaco, and there on the rocky slopes of the Spelugues hard by to the north of the bay are grouped the various buildings of the Casino, surrounded by villas, beautiful gardens and hotels which are largely patronised by the players. That finely decorated building standing on the edge of the cliff by the gardens of St. Martin is the Oceanographic museum which is filled by the wonderful collection of marine products collected by the Prince of Monaco. A most interesting exhibit, I assure you, and one which I am never tired of visiting. But that is not what I have come here to see this time.
"Look," said the professor, continuing the conversation as he pointed to the Casino, "that is the sole object of our expedition, and when I have done my business there, I intend to return to Paris."
"But surely, professor, you are not going to waste your time in playing at the Casino?" said Payot and Renée in the same breath. "We never knew you gambled."
"I never gamble—when I play, I play with knowledge, and I intend to teach the Casino Company and their dupes a lesson which they will never forget, and I trust we shall all profit by it."
"You speak in enigmas, professor," said Payot.
"All truth is an enigma, sir," replied Delapine with a quiet and somewhat cynical smile, and at the same time throwing at Payot one of those piercing glances with which he so frequently electrified his audiences.
Renée looked at Delapine with her brown eyes filled with an enquiring look of wonderment, and then turned to her father to see what reply he would make, but Payot said nothing, he merely evaded a reply by tracing figures with his cane on the sand.
The professor sat down on a chair and became absorbed in deep thought. Renée looked alarmed, as she fancied he was about to go off in another trance. Suddenly he sprang up. "Excuse me," he said, "I perceive that ourtwo friends Riche and Marcel are in trouble. I must go and rescue them," and without another word he donned his slouch hat and went out of the hotel grounds with rapid strides.
"What on earth is he up to?" said Payot.
"I can't imagine, but if Riche and Marcel are in trouble Henri will get them out of their mess. Didn't you hear him tell us he would?"
"But how on earth is he able to know when he is not there to see?"
"You must ask Henri that question," said Renée. "He will tell you."
It was a lovely winter's morning. The blue sky covered the deep sapphire blue of the Gulf of Genoa like a great turquoise dome painted here and there with long fleecy clouds, while the restless sea broke into tiny ripples as it lapped against the rocky cliffs of the shore, forming feathery waves like the white wings of the seagulls.
Marcel and Riche walked along the broad white carriage road, looking at the motor-cars and carriages as they rolled along with gaily dressed ladies, shading themselves with parasols of every colour. Here and there they encountered women from the country with bronzed, withered faces like Normandy pippins, carrying huge baskets to market balanced on their heads filled with fruit or vegetables. Then a score of noisy children ran pell mell across the road from the national school, shouting to each other as they ran with satchels on their backs filled with lesson books. A little further on a herd of goats obstructed the way, butting each other with their horns, or lingering at the roadside to nibble the herbage, while an Italian boy with bare feet ran hither and thither urging them forward with a stick, and calling his dog to assist him.
The road crossed deep gorges bordered with locust trees, pines and castania trees, while here and there were aged olive trees with their shrunken, gnarled and twisted trunks filled with the dust of years between the crevices of the bark. Wonderful limestone rocks towered up the hill on the left like mediæval ruined castles varying from a creamy white to pale lilac or deep crimson. At one spot a stream of clear water trickled down, besprinkling with its spray softcushions of velvety moss embroidered with lichens, maiden-hair ferns, aspleniums, and the beautiful white star-like leucorium nicæense. Here and there bunches of convolvuli and cistuses unfolded their crimson and purple trumpets.
Further on the village of Roccabrunna could be seen nestling among the brown rocks and huge boulders which had fallen ages before, and become partly cemented to the hillside with undergrowth and soil. Capping the summit half hidden among the houses, the ruins of the mediæval castle of the Lascaris arrested his eye, surrounded by lemon and orange trees.
Now the road turns aside through the village of Monaco, and on the right he saw in front of him the bold promontory of Monaco rising three hundred and fifty feet above the sea, which washed three of its sides where they dipped almost perpendicularly into the blue waters. All the way along on either side were lovely villas surrounded by well-kept gardens filled with flowers of every hue and kind. Cacti, palms, aloes, camphor trees, monkey trees, citron and orange trees abounded, the latter filling the air with their fragrant perfume. In the largest gardens they observed numerous specimens of the cedar of Lebanon, flat-topped pines, arancarius, Californian pines—the whole contributing to make this spot a veritable garden of Eden.
At length they passed a large jeweller's shop with a magnificent display of diamond and ruby rings in a case in the window.
"See here," cried Marcel, "the very thing." He went in and asked to be allowed to inspect a selection of engagement rings. Having made his choice he became so engrossed with admiring the various objects of art that Riche, getting tired, told his friend that he would stroll slowly on, and bid him follow on after he had finished.
It was fully half an hour before Marcel had completed his inventory of the shop, when looking at his watch was surprised to find how time had slipped by. Hurrying out Marcel walked rapidly in the direction where he knew he would find his friend. He had not gone more than a mile when he suddenly heard a babel of voices, and to his surprise saw a large crowd surrounding a Piedmontesebeggar holding a brown bear by a chain. The man was violently gesticulating at a gentleman who was trying to defend himself against the menaces of the crowd, and was struggling with two gendarmes who appeared anxious to arrest him.
"Hullo, Riche!" cried Marcel, running breathlessly up and pushing his way to him through the crowd. "What's up? What are they pulling you about for?"
"I saw this brute of an Italian belabouring his bear over the head with a stick, and pulling the chain until his nose was covered with blood, and my blood was up, so I gave the fellow a taste of the beating that he had given the bear, and then the gendarmes, hearing the row, came up and arrested me."
Riche struggled with the gendarmes, tried to get free, and twisting his leg between those of one of the gendarmes Jiu-Jitsu fashion, threw him on the ground.
Marcel flung himself on the officer, and Riche would have got free, but the second slipped a noose of whip-cord over Riche's wrist, and drawing it tight, twisted it with a bit of stick so violently that he almost fainted with the pain.
Marcel was struggling on the ground with the officer, when a third policeman pushed his way through the crowd, and they were promptly marched away as prisoners towards the gendarmerie, followed by a crowd of idlers.
"What have those Allemands done?" cried a workman in a blouse, to his boon companion who was smoking the filthy stump of a cigarette.
"Ma foi, the rascals have been caught pocket-picking—serve them jolly well right too. I saw them do it. Come, comrade, we will give evidence and get them well lodged in the Violon. Ils sont des sacr—res Allemands."
At this moment a carriage and pair came dashing up, and a footman arrayed in gorgeous livery descended from his perch and opened the door. A general, magnificently attired in full dress uniform with a row of orders on his breast, stepped out, carrying his head proudly in the air, and looking for all the world like one of the old heroes of Gravelotte with his venerable-looking white locks and greyish white beard and moustache. The crowd madeway for him and cheered as he marched with a firm military step towards the struggling prisoners.
"Halt!" he cried in a voice of thunder, as the gendarmes, petrified with astonishment, stood at attention immediately and saluted him.
"What are you doing with those two gentlemen?" he demanded in an imperious tone.
"We are taking them to the gendarmerie for assaulting this Piedmontese with his bear, and for violently resisting us while we were performing our duty in arresting him. One of them threw my comrade on to the ground and would have killed him had not a third member of the force arrived."
"I command you to release them immediately. Are you aware that they happen to be particular friends of mine, and belong to the Embassy? I shall hold you all three responsible for this. Give me your names at once. Do you hear me?" he said, as he stamped his foot on the ground with impatience as they hesitated to obey him.
Trembling with fear they wrote their names and numbers on a card, and handed it to him.
"Now go," he cried, "and take care not to touch my friends again, or beware——" and he shook a warning finger at them.
The three gendarmes stepped back a couple of paces, saluted, and then turning round speedily became lost in the crowd.
"Now step into my carriage," said the General as the footman opened the door for the two guests.
As soon as they were seated the General ordered the coachman to turn back and drive at full speed. Riche and Marcel stared at the General, and then looked at each other for an explanation.
"Whom have we the honour of addressing?" they both asked.
"General Alfieri, Commander of the Grand Cordon of the Order of Savoy, very much at your service, gentlemen."
"Accept our humble and most sincere thanks, General. We cannot thank you sufficiently both for your well-timed help, and for your extreme courtesy and attention."
"I accept your thanks, and request you to give me thepleasure of your company to lunch. Where may you be staying?"
"At the Hotel des Anglais, Beaulieu."
"Coachman, drive to the Hotel des Anglais, these gentlemen may desire to alight in order to arrange their toilette."
Riche and Marcel were more astonished than ever. "General Alfieri," they whispered to each other. "Who on earth could he be—some Italian General of high rank evidently. But what could he be doing in the territory of the Prince of Monte Carlo, which does not belong to Italy, and how could he possibly know us?"
In a few minutes they arrived at the hotel, and all three descended.
"Pray step in," said the General, "and I will follow directly."
As Riche and Marcel entered the hall the General stepped up to the coachman, and handing him a bank note dismissed him.
"Now, gentlemen, pray retire to your rooms, and when you are ready you will find me waiting for you in the hall."
As soon as Riche and Marcel had retired to their rooms, the General entered his, and after completing his ablutions and exchanging his military clothes for a civilian costume he returned to the hall. A few minutes later Riche and Marcel came down the stairs together.
"I say, professor, where have you sprung from?" said Marcel. "By the way, have you noticed a General in full uniform in the hotel?"
"No, I've seen no military man at all here, but I happened to notice a General in full uniform drive up to the front and enter the hotel. He was a fine, venerable looking man with white hair and a greyish white moustache and beard."
"That's the gentleman we want. You have described him exactly. But where has he gone to?" they enquired eagerly.
"I can't imagine. I only know that I heard him order the coachman to drive away, as he would not be wanted again."
"Surely, professor, you must be mistaken," replied
Marcel, "as the General not only got us out of a terrible scrape, but was kind enough to drive us here and actually invited us to lunch. In fact he bid us remove the traces of our scrimmage with those beastly gendarmes who tried to arrest us, and then meet him here in the hall."
"If he had not been so kind in the first instance," added Riche, "I should have imagined that he was playing us a joke."
"But why suggest such things?" said Delapine. "If he said he would wait for you here, he must be here."
"Please do not jest like this, professor, it is too serious a thing, we must go and look for him at once."
"Are you sure that it is necessary to do that?" said Delapine.
"What do you mean?" they both asked.
"I mean what I say. The General kept his word, and is waiting on you now."
"Where, where?" and Riche and Marcel looked up and down the passages in vain.
"Why, here, you silly chaps. Can't you recognise me?" and Delapine gave a merry twinkle with his eyes.
"What! You don't mean to say that you were the General?"
"Why not?" said the professor, turning his back to them and quickly donning his false beard and moustache and wig. "Now look at me," said he, turning round and saluting them.
"If this isn't just the top hole," said Marcel and Riche in a duet. "Whoever would have thought of it, but tell us, how did you manage to know where we were?"
"Oh! that was simplicity itself. I watched you both going out, and then I fell into one of those dreamy states in which my subliminal or other-self rises above the threshold—as Meyers used to say—and then this other-self, partly freed from my animal body, has greatly increased powers, which enables me to perceive things which are entirely invisible to the eye, since psychic sight is affected by altogether different laws from those which govern ordinary vision, and moreover it is quite independent of distance. The moment I fell into my hypnotic reverie, I saw Marcel sauntering along the Corniche in the directionof Monaco with my mind sight as clearly as I see you now, and I watched him half kill the Italian with his stick for maltreating a bear, and suspecting what would happen I hurriedly left the hotel, borrowed a General's uniform, pinned on all the second-hand orders I could lay my hands on, and telephoned immediately for the most expensive carriage and pair in the place. At the same time I telephoned to the Metropole at Monte Carlo for two footmen in livery. They climbed up on to the box-seat and I got into the carriage, and the one whom I selected as coachman drove as fast as possible to the spot where I knew I should meet you—and here we are," said the professor with a beaming smile. "Come, gentlemen, let me take you to lunch, as I promised you in the carriage. I think our good friends Beaupaire and Payot, as well as the ladies are expecting us."
"Great Scott!" whispered Marcel to Riche, "Mephistopheles is a fool beside our professor."
CHAPTER XXIV
THE PROFESSOR DISCOURSES ON GAMBLING
"Le hasard n'est rien. Il n'est point de hasard. Nous avons nominè l'effet que nous voyons d'une cause que nous ne voyons pas."Voltaire,Lettres de Memmius, III.
"Le hasard n'est rien. Il n'est point de hasard. Nous avons nominè l'effet que nous voyons d'une cause que nous ne voyons pas."Voltaire,Lettres de Memmius, III.
Chance is nothing. There is no such thing as chance. What we call by that name is the effect which we see of a cause which we do not see."C'est le profonde ignorance qui inspire le ton dogmatique."La Bruyère,Characteres.
Chance is nothing. There is no such thing as chance. What we call by that name is the effect which we see of a cause which we do not see."C'est le profonde ignorance qui inspire le ton dogmatique."La Bruyère,Characteres.
"Well, Monsieur Beaupaire, I hope that you are the better for Dr. Villebois's treatment," said Marcel as he shook hands with him in the salon while they were waiting for the dejeuner to be served.
"My dear sir, I confess I am better, but I cannot say I owe it to the doctor," and Beaupaire gave Marcel a comical look. "Perhaps in my turn I may be able to hope that you, my dear Marcel, are also better."
"Well, I am free from pain, but you must confess it was rather a mean trick to play on a man who had done your daughter no harm," said Marcel, looking at Violette and pretending to be very angry.
"Oh, Monsieur Marcel, please forgive me," said Violette, blushing furiously and looking very sheepish. "I really did not mean to do it."
"You didn't mean to do it, then why did you do so? I received a fearful shock, and suffered agonies for some hours afterwards."
Before Violette could reply, lunch was announced, and Marcel, following his friend Riche's advice, bowed stiffly to Violette and followed Beaupaire and Riche to the salle a manger.
Violette felt very uncomfortable and miserable as she puckered up her mouth and gave a little sigh. But it did not escape Riche who was watching the effect of Marcel's words with the eye of a connoisseur.
"It's all right, my boy," he whispered to Marcel as they sat down together, "your case argues well. I can see that you will win her."
"How do you know that?" Marcel enquired.
"Quite simply. Did you not see when she sat down that she gave a little sigh? That's one point. Then again I observed the comical look that her father gave you when he trusted that you were also better. Now, my boy, all you have to do is to keep your head and go steady, and she's yours as sure as my name's Riche."
After lunch Marcel arranged to meet Violette at a spot where he could talk to her unobserved. It required some manœuvring as there were very few places unoccupied. Riche very cunningly acted as a decoy by first luring Violette into an unoccupied room, and then by making way for Marcel, who entered the room apparently quite unconscious that anyone was there. On seeing Violette he uttered an apology, and bowing very politely turned round as if he intended to leave the room, when Violette stopped him.
"Pardon me, Monsieur Marcel, I cannot allow you to leave without obtaining your forgiveness for the injury I have done you. You will forgive me, won't you? I wanted to ask you before lunch but we were interrupted."
"Certainly I'll forgive you, and now let us shake hands to show that we have made it up."
Violette held out her right hand.
"No," said Marcel, "one hand won't do for me, I must have both."
Violette laughed and held out both.
"That is better," said Marcel, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out a lovely diamond ring which he very adroitly slipped on the fourth finger of her left hand, taking care to slip it past the joint.
Violette drew back with a little scream. "How dare you take a mean advantage of me like that? You're a horrid man, I hate you," and suiting her action to herwords she tried to pull it off. But the ring which Marcel had carefully selected to ensure its fitting tightly refused to budge, much to his delight.
"I believe you selected a tight fitting ring on purpose," she said in an angry tone of voice, looking very cross and almost in tears.
Marcel took his scolding with such a good-natured smile that Violette felt she would have to laugh if she stayed any longer, so rushing past him she ran to her father who was sitting down in an easy chair in the next room.
"Father, just look at what Monsieur Marcel has done to me," and she held out a very pretty finger for his inspection.
"That's a very charming ring he has given you," he replied with a knowing wink.
"But, father, only think of his impudence in slipping the ring on my finger by a horrid ruse, without even asking my permission. I think it was a very mean trick to take advantage of me like that. Don't you agree with me?"
"Well, to tell the truth I confess if I had been in his place I would have done exactly the same thing," and Beaupaire burst into a hearty laugh.
"Father, I don't like you a bit, I think you are horrid. I don't want his ring," and she tried to pull it off once more. "Oh, this wretched ring how am I to get it off?"
"Don't be a little goose, keep it on, my dear," and he took hold of her hand and patted it affectionately. "I admire Monsieur Marcel's taste. It is really a superb ring, and you ought to be very proud of it."
Violette stamped her pretty foot on the floor.
"Why do you always take Monsieur Marcel's part?" she asked with a little pout of vexation.
"My dear child, I consider him to be a very charming man, clever, highly polished and accomplished, very affectionate, and moreover the possessor of a most respectable private income. Why, what more do you want? He is a man who would make a most desirable husband. Besides, I have every reason to believe that he sincerely loves you."
"But, father, do you really mean it?"
At this moment Marcel, who had been listening with his ear against the door, came in.
Beaupaire came up and shook hands with him.
"My boy, I could not wish for a better man for a son-in-law."
"And I could not wish for a better lady for a wife than Violette," replied Marcel, his courage rising to undreamed-of heights.
"Take her, my boy, and if she loves you, as I have no doubt she does, you will be a very happy man."
Violette blushed up to the roots of her hair, and Marcel took her by the hand and asked her forgiveness.
"Well," she answered, laughing, "we are quits now."
"No, dear," replied Marcel, giving her a kiss on both cheeks, "not quits but one."
"Do you really love me, George?" she enquired, looking up into his face.
"I loved you all the time, Violette, from the moment I first saw you."
Violette flung her arms round him and embraced him passionately.
"So did I," she whispered.
"Now, you silly children," said Beaupaire with a smile of satisfaction, "you must make haste and get ready as the professor is on the point of taking us to Monte Carlo."
Three carriages had been ordered, and at length the party, personally conducted by the professor, entered the gardens of Monte Carlo.
"Here we are at last," said Delapine, "but before we enter the Casino let us take a short walk round the buildings."
"In my opinion," said the professor, "Monte Carlo is the gem of the Riviera. Here art and nature have contested for the palm of beauty. To complete this fairy scene it was necessary for man to contribute the magic of his art. Everything has been done by art to stimulate the imagination. Note how the wild rocks have been blasted and hewn out into broad and beautiful terraces, and how these are approached by graceful stone steps wrought into exquisite curves and supported on either side by numerous carved balustrades. Observe the smooth well-kept lawnsand terraced gardens and verandahs—the rich colouring of the flowers, and the tropical plants and trees, while everything is kept in the most perfect order and neatness. But although art has contributed such pleasing effects, nature, not to be outdone, has laid bare the rugged rocks and stupendous precipices as if to mock the carefully thought out works of man. She has carved out the bay, and allowed this bold promontory to project into the sea as if to defy the elements. Just look at the exquisite fringe of the sea as the waves toss their spray against the iron-bound rocks. It is both grand and beautiful."
As the party walked round the Casino they heard a number of sharp reports as if from a number of men firing.
"Oh! dear," cried Madame Villebois, "to think of these poor fellows committing suicide in this dreadful way. I suppose they have all been ruined in the Casino, and are now putting an end to themselves."
Villebois and Riche burst out laughing.
"I am ashamed of both of you, and you, Adolphe, ought to know better than to laugh at such misery."
"Come this way, madame, and I will show you the suicides," said the professor, "and you can then judge for yourself."
He conducted Madame Villebois, with great reluctance on her part, to a spot where she could see the pigeon club. A number of members of the club attired in the very latest and most approved costumes were watching a couple of sportsmen alternately firing at some pigeons which were being liberated from a row of traps.
"These are your suicides, madame," said the professor, smiling.
An elegantly dressed young lady, obviously belonging to the demi-monde world, walked up to one of the sportsmen.
"Well, monsieur, it is a surprise to see you here. I suppose you have come here for the pigeon match?"
"That is so, I am here for the shooting. And what are you here for?"
"Me? Oh! I am here for the pigeons."
The young man looked amused, and offering her his arm they strolled together into the club.
Delapine and his party retraced their steps along the terrace to the Casino. As they approached they heard the strains of a fine band playing near at hand. "Come let us listen, there is nothing to pay, for everything is free at Monte Carlo."
"Look! Here are Charley and Ridgeway," said Beaupaire to Violette.
"How do you do," said Charley, taking off his hat to Violette and her father. "I suppose you are going into the Casino?"
"Yes, we are going there directly," said the professor, who overheard what had just been said.
"May we accompany you?" asked the two Englishmen.
"Certainly, by all means," replied Delapine, "but I would advise you not to play unless you can afford to lose."
"But we can afford to lose."
"Then you have no need to play," replied Delapine, smiling.
Charley and Ridgeway said nothing, but looked at each other and laughed.
Before them towered the Casino. They saw a large profusely decorated monstrosity, erected regardless of expense, which was surmounted at each end by a lofty tower. The building gave one the impression that it had been built under the direction of some millionaire pork-packer hailing from Chicago, rather than by the great architect of the famous Opera House in Paris.
The party ascended the steps, and Delapine procured the tickets of admission after a few formalities had been gone through.
"Now let us watch the fools lose their money," said Delapine as they entered the Salon du Jeu.
Renée and Céleste opened their eyes wide as they entered the huge gilded salon.