This eBook was produced by David Widger
Alea sequa vorax species certissima furti
Non contenta bonis, animum quoque perfida mergit;—
Furca, furax—infamis, iners, furiosa, ruina.
Petrarch: Dial.
I dined the next day at the Freres Provencaux; an excellentrestaurateur's, by-the-by, where one gets irreproachable gibier, andmeets no English. After dinner, I strolled into the various gamblinghouses, with which the Palais Royal abounds.
In one of these, the crowd and heat were so great, that I shouldimmediately have retired if I had not been struck with the extreme andintense expression of interest in the countenance of one of thespectators at the rouge et noir table. He was a man about forty years ofage; his complexion was dark and sallow; the features prominent, and whatare generally called handsome; but there was a certain sinisterexpression in his eyes and mouth, which rendered the effect of hisphysiognomy rather disagreeable than prepossessing. At a small distancefrom him, and playing, with an air which, in its carelessness andnonchalance, formed a remarkable contrast to the painful anxiety of theman I have just described, sate Mr. Thornton.
At first sight, these two appeared to be the only Englishmen presentbesides myself; I was more struck by seeing the former in that scene,than I was at meeting Thornton there; for there was something distinguein the mien of the stranger, which suited far worse with the appearanceof the place, than the bourgeois air and dress of my ci-devant second.
"What! another Englishman?" thought I, as I turned round and perceived athick, rough great coat, which could possibly belong to no continentalshoulders. The wearer was standing directly opposite the seat of theswarthy stranger; his hat was slouched over his face; I moved in order toget a clearer view of his countenance. It was the same person I had seenwith Thornton that morning. Never to this moment have I forgotten thestern and ferocious expression with which he was gazing upon the keen andagitated features of the gambler opposite. In the eye and lip there wasneither pleasure, hatred, nor scorn, in their simple and unalloyedelements; but each seemed blent and mingled into one deadly concentrationof evil passions.
This man neither played, nor spoke, nor moved. He appeared utterlyinsensible of every feeling in common with those around. There he stood,wrapt in his own dark and inscrutable thoughts, never, for one instant,taking his looks from the varying countenance which did not observe theirgaze, nor altering the withering character of their almost demoniacalexpression. I could not tear myself from the spot. I felt chained by somemysterious and undefinable interest; my attention was first diverted intoa new channel, by a loud exclamation from the dark visaged gambler at thetable; it was the first he had uttered, notwithstanding his anxiety; and,from the deep, thrilling tone in which it was expressed, it conveyed akeen sympathy with the overcharged feelings which it burst from.
With a trembling hand, he took from an old purse the few Napoleons thatwere still left there. He set them all at one hazard, on the rouge. Hehung over the table with a dropping lip; his hands were tightly claspedin each other; his nerves seemed strained into the last agony ofexcitation. I ventured to raise my eyes upon the gaze, which I felt muststill be upon the gambler—there it was fixed, and stern as before; butit now conveyed a deeper expression of joy than of the other passions