"The devil take me if I know!"

And Dubourg, who had lost three thousand francs, and was tired of feeling madame la marquise's foot on his, rose abruptly and walked about the room.

Madame de Grandcourt was stretched out on a long chair in a corner. A short man with whiskers and moustache sat on a stool almost at her feet; he had pa.s.sed one arm about his charmer's waist, and the hand of the other was screened from view by the folds of a faded satin gown.

The old baroness and the young viscountess were playing _creps_ with the chevalier. The faces of the ladies were much flushed; the baroness had a gla.s.s of punch before her, and was gazing with gla.s.sy eyes at the dice, shrieking and disputing over a ten-sou piece which she would not admit that she had lost. The viscountess had recovered the use of her tongue by eating sweetmeats, and she indulged in frequent solecisms which must have opened Dubourg's eyes if he had been himself; but he was not; his losses had disturbed his mental balance, already shaken by the punch and liqueurs. He strode about the salon, looking without seeing, listening without hearing the marchioness's compliments, and pa.s.sing his hand across his forehead as if to tranquillize his thoughts. He tried to go away, but returned again and again to the card-tables, saying to himself:

"I absolutely must win back my three thousand francs!"

He took a seat at the _creps_ table and called to the count, who was talking in a corner with the man in the threadbare coat who staked rolls of louis which no one saw.

"Monsieur," said Dubourg, raising his voice, "I trust that you will not refuse to give me my revenge at this game, at which I may perhaps have better luck."

"With great pleasure," replied the count with the lace cuffs.

He hastened to the _creps_ table, which the viscountess and baroness instantly quitted; indeed, they soon left the salon, as did Madame de Grandcourt; but Dubourg was too intent upon his game to observe the disappearance of the ladies.

All the men formed a circle about the _creps_ table. Dubourg was allowed to choose whether he would punt or be banker. He chose the latter, and madame la marquise, seated close beside him, took pains always to pick up the dice and the box and hand them to him. Dubourg lost; he no longer knew what he was doing; he threw dice and dice-box on the floor. Someone proposed _trente-et-un_, and he accepted; that finished him; in less than half an hour, the rest of the contents of his cash-box vanished. He felt in all his pockets, in his fob--not a sou! he had lost everything, and the money was not his! He did not speak, but paced the floor for some moments, pale and haggard, biting his lips, clenching his fists, and uttering a fierce oath from time to time. The candles began to go out; the counts and chevaliers whispered together and seemed embarra.s.sed; the marchioness withdrew to a corner of the salon, not deeming the moment favorable for treading on Monsieur de Potoski's foot.

At last, Dubourg, throwing off his depression, seemed to have determined upon his course. He went to get his hat, which he had placed under a chair, and left the room, slamming the door violently behind him; he pa.s.sed through the anteroom, where four tall fellows, only one of whom was in livery, were busily drinking, opened the door into the hall, and started downstairs. Not until he was halfway down, and attempted to put on his hat, did he discover that he had a wretched tile, without band or lining, which someone had subst.i.tuted for his fine hat with a plume.

"By heaven, this is too much!" he exclaimed, turning back; "not content with having filched my money, they propose to filch my hat too! Ah! my worthy counts and chevaliers, we'll see about that!"

Dubourg rang the bell violently; no one came. He rang again, and beat the door with his hands and feet, until at last it was opened.

"What do you want?" demanded the servant in livery.

"What do I want? I want my hat, which your chevalier of I-don't-know-what has taken instead of his own miserable tile."

"There's no hat of yours here."

"What's that, you blackguard! you dare to tell me that?"

"Hold your tongue, monsieur! don't make so much noise in the house; madame la marquise don't like it."

"Go to the devil with your madame la marquise, who lets people pinch her wantonly so as to fleece them! I insist on going in; I'll find a way to get back my hat."

"You cannot go in! Help, my friends! Here's a man who means to make trouble!"

The three others ran to his a.s.sistance. They seized Dubourg by the shoulders; he struggled and fought to no purpose, being the weaker party. They forced him down the stairs, yelling and calling them curs and thieves, as well as their employers. The four tall rascals made no reply, but pushed him into the street and shut the door in his face.

"Ah! the villains!" he cried, rearranging his clothes, which he had come near losing with all the rest in the struggle he had had. "Ah! the scoundrels! What a fine evening I have had, to be sure! Ouf! I've a good mind to stone the house and break the windows. But, no, I think I'll call--probably the watch will pa.s.s before long."

He stood in the street a moment, undecided as to what he should do. But it was very late, the street was deserted, and by remaining there he ran the risk of being arrested himself; he reflected that he was a stranger in the city, and that he had a.s.sumed a t.i.tle which did not belong to him. All these reasons led him to decide to wait until morning before he sought to obtain justice at the hands of madame la marquise. Meanwhile, it behooved him to find the way back to his hotel.

But how could he show his face before Frederic and Menard, after losing all the money they had intrusted to him? He had nothing left, and they owed a considerable sum at their hotel.

Dubourg tore his hair and beat his breast as he strode through the streets of Lyon. At last he arrived at the hotel, and addressed himself in the following words:

"Whatever happens, I must end by making the best of it. Even if I should pa.s.s the night chastising myself in the street, it wouldn't bring back a sou to my purse. So I may as well go to bed; to-morrow, we'll see about getting out of the sc.r.a.pe."

VIII

BEHOLD HER!

Frederic, when he returned to the hotel during the evening, found Menard seated alone before the remains of a chicken with which the quondam tutor had pa.s.sed a part of the time since Dubourg's departure. Surprised not to find the latter, the young count inquired of Menard as to his whereabouts, and was told that monsieur le baron had gone to pa.s.s the evening with one of the leading families of the city, from whom he had received an invitation.

It seemed very strange to Frederic that Dubourg should receive invitations at Lyon, where he knew n.o.body, and he feared that this "leading family" might be an invention of his friend. However, he was careful not to convey his suspicions to Menard, but simply informed him that he proposed to resume his journey the next day.

"Monsieur le baron isn't in such a hurry as he was," said Menard; "he is very well pleased with Lyon."

"Why, only this morning he urged me to leave the place!"

"This invitation seems to have changed his views."

"Monsieur le baron may do as he pleases, but we shall start to-morrow."

Menard made no reply, but went to bed, considering that his pupil was taking great liberties with such a man as the palatine; and Frederic did the same, although he was somewhat disturbed by Dubourg's absence.

Early the next morning, Menard and the young count met in the room where they were accustomed to meet for breakfast. But Dubourg did not appear.

"Can it be that he stayed out all night?" asked Frederic.

"I beg your pardon, monsieur," said one of the servants of the hotel; "monsieur le baron came in about three o'clock this morning; he seemed very tired, and he is still in bed."

"What folly to sit up all night when we were to start to-day! But where in the devil has he been?--Go and tell him that we are waiting for him."

After some time, the servant returned and announced that monsieur le baron was sick and could not rise.

"The rascal must have been drunk last night," thought Frederic; and, followed by Menard, who began by rubbing his nose and temples with vinegar to ward off contagion, he went to Dubourg's bedroom. They found him in bed; he had pulled his nightcap over his eyes and tied his handkerchief over it, and his face wore such a piteous expression, that one would have thought that he had been confined to his bed in agony for three months.

Menard halted in the middle of the room and held a smelling-bottle to his nose, saying in an undertone to Frederic.

"Mon Dieu! how he has changed!"

"What's the matter with you, in heaven's name, my poor Dubourg?" said Frederic, taking the hand of the sick man, who had employed every known means to give himself an attack of fever.

"Alas! my dear friend, I feel very ill."

"How did it come on?"

"Ah! it was brought on by something that happened--a terrible adventure; the shock of it was the cause of my illness."

"You must see a doctor, first of all."