seigneurs of Louis XIV's time, junketed, gave their fetes, anddanced minuets; while in the disused Vauxhall the older glories ofballs, ridottos, and gambling went on night after night during the lastcentury. But nowadays Monte Carlo attracts the knight of industry andthe systematic gambler. Nevertheless, Spa remains pleasant andpastoral, notwithstanding the existence of survivals that speak mutelyof its departed grandeur.
It is essentially picturesque, with its miniature Place, its imposingPouhon, or "pump room," its gay Casino, its luxurious _Etablissement_,its glaring Hotel de Flandre, its "Orange," and other pleasant houses ofentertainment. Close by are the charming promenades under thicklyplanted rows of trees, quaintly termed the "Seven-o'clock" and"Four-o'clock" walks. Here crowds of visitors languidly wander, situnder the trees, or halt in groups listening to the music from the bandsin the kiosks.
Spa is still popular with all classes of visitors, from the Englishnobility to the shopkeeping element of Louvain, Brussels, and othercontiguous towns; and the administration of the Casino appear untiringin their efforts to provide them with amusement in the form of fetes,dramatic performances, concerts, balls, and other means of enjoyment anddissipation.
It was at one of the latter entertainments that Valerie and Hugh wereamusing themselves, she having introduced him to Adolphe Chavoix.
When the dance concluded they strolled together through the widecorridor hung with pictures, crossed the reading-room, and walked outupon the balcony overlooking the Place Pierre-le-Grand, where they foundthe pseudo-Comte Chaulin-Serviniere leaning upon the balustrade,smoking.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, as they advanced, "you, too, are tired of that closeatmosphere. Faugh! I found it stifling."
"You don't dance, M'sieur le Comte, and therefore can't enjoy it,"replied Valerie mischievously.
"Well, well, perhaps that's so," he replied. "But, by the way," hecontinued, turning to Hugh, "why don't you try your luck at the tables?"
"Oh yes, Hugh," said Valerie, as if suddenly struck by the excellence ofthe suggestion; "let's have a few games. It would be a pleasant change.Shall we?"
"I've no objection," Trethowen answered.
"I should scarcely think you had, considering how lucky you were whenyou played with me at the Cercle du Hainaut," remarked Victor, laughing.
"Fortune always favours the novice," Hugh declared.
"Then let's hope it will favour you again to-night. Come along," urgedValerie.
When the trio entered the _salle de jeu_ a few minutes later, they foundthe tables crowded with players indulging in some innocent games ofchance. Play is never high at Spa nowadays.
The room was neither large nor luxurious. A few busts stood uponpedestals around the mirrored walls, the card-tables were ranged downthe side, and at the further end was a _chemin de fer_, which proved thechief source of attraction to the less venturesome. The incessanttick-tack of the tiny train and the jingling of money, mingled with thehum of voices, peals of exultant laughter, and staccato curses, producedan almost deafening din.
After wandering about the room for a few minutes, and watching the_chemin de fer_, they found a baccarat table in the opposite corner.Hugh seated himself upon the right hand of the banker, while Victor satupon the left. Valerie "punting" right and left indifferently.
For about half an hour they played, staking small sums, which the bankalmost invariably annexed, _tirage a cinq_ cropped up, and discussionsensued upon it. This question always divides baccarat players into twocamps. There are some who, when holding five as the total of pips onthe cards in their hands, will ask for a third card, while others willnot. This dispute, which is of constant occurrence, has exercised themind of almost every one who has tempted fortune on the _tapis vert_.Yet, after all, it is a curious one, for if one considers the matter itwill be seen that the chances of improving or reducing one's total bytaking a third card are extremely doubtful. Gamblers, however, whobelieve in their good fortune, usually draw at five because they believethat one of the good chances will come in their way.
This was the course adopted by Hugh in one of the rounds. Up to thattime he had been unlucky, and lost about two hundred francs; but, seeingthat the count, who was an inveterate gambler, called for a third card,he did the same, with the result that he won back the sum he had lost,together with an additional hundred francs.
In several succeeding hands he adopted the same course, and although hewas not successful every time, nevertheless he found he was not losing.As for his fair companion, she was apparently very unfortunate. Once ortwice she won, but in the majority of cases she was compelled to pay.Victor played mechanically. He also lost, and the bank frequently rakedin increasing piles of gold and limp, crumpled notes.
After they had played for an hour Valerie declared her inability tocontinue, owing to want of funds. Hugh offered to lend her a few louis,which she firmly declined to accept, and rose. He also got up, and,leaving Victor at the table, they descended to the large hall, wherethey seated themselves at one of the little tables, and ordered somewine. To Hugh the result of the play had not been unsatisfactory,inasmuch as he found on counting his winnings that they amounted tonearly two hundred francs.
"I'm passionately fond of baccarat," Valerie remarked, as they satopposite one another, chatting and laughing. "It's so long since Iplayed that I had almost forgotten the game. Had I had any more moneyin my purse to-night, I should most probably have staked it. Gambling,unfortunately, is one of my weaknesses."
"Why not accept some from me, and return? You might perhaps break thebank," he suggested, smiling.
"Ah no," she replied; "I don't care to play publicly. It is the samehere as at Monte Carlo--the tables are patronised by _declasse_ womenand half-tipsy men. Women who play in a place like this earn a badname. I would rather play at the hotel. Adolphe will returnpresently,--he's an awfully nice fellow, the son of a silk manufacturerin Lyons,--and we could form a nice little quartette among ourselves.What do you say?"
"I'm quite agreeable," he replied. "You know, I alway obey yourwishes."
She looked into his eyes affectionately, and uttered a few endearingwords in a low tone that could not be overheard.
Presently they got up, went arm-in-arm up the grand staircase, andre-entered the _salle de jeu_. The count was no longer there, but theysoon discovered him standing in his former position on the balcony,indulging in a smoke under the stars. He had lost, he said; his luckhad forsaken him after Valerie had left the table.
Then they told him of the suggestion to play at the hotel--a propositionto which he immediately acquiesced.
Hugh Trethowen, truth to tell, cared very little about games of chance,but for the amusement of his idol he was prepared to make any sacrifice.
An hour before midnight the four assembled in a private sitting-room atthe Hotel de l'Europe. Pierre Rouillier--or Adolphe Chavoix, as he wasnow called by his fellow-adventurers--had procured a piece of billiardchalk, and marked the table at which they were to play. The heavycurtains of the windows overlooking the street were drawn, and over thegas lamp was a lace shade which caused a soft, subdued light to fallupon the table, while opposite the windows was a large mirror reachingfrom the wainscot to the ceiling.
"Who'll be banker?" asked Adolphe, as they seated themselves.
"Why, Hugh, of course," replied the count. "He's had all the luckto-night. Come, m'sieur, sit over there, and start the bank with yourwinnings," he added, addressing Hugh.
"Ah, my dear Count, I expect my luck will change," laughed Trethowengood-humouredly.
And, placing a chair for Valerie by his side, he took the seatindicated. He was not a practised card-player, neither did anyapprehension of dishonest dealing cross his mind.
The game, he thought, was one of mere chance, and his opponents werejust as liable to lose as himself. So he commenced by making a bank,and shuffling and dealing the cards.
The first few hands were uninteresting. Adolphe had arrived presumablyfrom Paris only a fe
w days previously, and had been introduced byValerie as a friend of the family. As he entered heartily into everyproposal for enjoyment, Hugh considered him a genial and pleasantcompanion. Overflowing with mirth and good spirits, he proved a muchappreciated addition to the party.
At first the stakes were not high, and the fortune of the players wereabout equally divided. Hugh's pile of coin increased now and then, onlyto diminish again, but never falling short of its original size.
After a time the count increased his stake, twenty louis being put uponthe game. Neither player, however, could make the fatal _abbattage_,and Hugh continued to hold winning hands, and rake the coins into thebank.
The game was growing interesting, and so intensely were the thoughts