CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE AVENUE MARIGNY.

Between ten and eleven that night Sir Nugent Uffington presented himself at the house No. 240 Avenue Marigny, and asked, as he had been instructed, for Madame de Nerval. The porter having told him that it was _au premier_, Uffington proceeded thither up a broad and splendidly carpeted staircase, and, touching the plated bell, was immediately confronted by an immense _huissier_ in gorgeous uniform. This magnificent creature, whose manners were much milder than his appearance denoted, bowed the guest into the vestibule, and there handed him over to the care of the groom of the chambers. On giving his name, Uffington learned that he was expected, and the servant, begging him to follow, led the way, along a passage brilliantly lighted and decorated with stags'-heads and other trophies of the chase, towards an apartment at the farther end, whence came roars of laughter intermixed with occasional snatches of singing.

So thick was the tobacco smoke in this apartment that on the first opening of the door it was almost impossible to ascertain the features of its denizens; but on hearing the name of the visitor a lady rose from a low ottoman, on which, in company with two or three of her friends, she had been seated, and approaching Uffington offered him welcome, announcing herself at the same time as Madame de Nerval, the hostess.

'Your friend, Lord Forestfield, told me you had promised to do me this honour, Sir Nugent,' said she, speaking in excellent English, 'and I assure you I was quite looking forward to it. I know many of your acquaintance, and have often heard you spoken of, but always as a misanthrope; consequently, you see, I value this honour more highly.'

'Those who described me as such knew that I had not yet had the pleasure of seeing you, madame, and that therefore I hadn't had any temptation to give up my solitary manner of life.'

'Your language is rather that of a courtier than that of a hermit, Sir Nugent,' said Madame de Nerval. She was a tall, handsome, large-framed woman of about five-and-thirty, with bold black eyes, which she used with great effect. 'But come, let me introduce you to my friends--Madame Pierotte, Madame Chauvain--Sir Nugent Uffington.'

Two rather pretty women--both with very fair hair; one in rose-coloured satin, the other in green silk; both very much _décolletées_, very much powdered, and wearing a vast number of rings--bowed at the presentation.

'Now for the gentlemen,' said Madame de Nerval, continuing the introduction. 'The gentleman on the ottoman is M. le Comte de Gerfuzet; next to him Alexis Eyma, the _feuilletoniste_, who is of course known to you by repute; and this is,' she added, bending forward and playfully patting the close-cut silver-white hair of a big handsome old man, who stooped his massive head for the purpose,--'this is my grandpapa, the Baron von Höchstadt.'

Each of these gentlemen bowed as his name was pronounced; and when Madame de Nerval spoke of the Baron as her grandfather, there was a universal roar of laughter, in which the Baron himself bore the principal part.

'Zee Count ee eez to me,' said Madame Pierotte, nestling down on the ottoman, and lighting her cigarette from her friend's cigar; 'ee eez mai lofe.'

'Tiens, Rosette; oublie-t-on les convenances ici, par exemple?' cried the Count, elevating his eyebrows, and causing immense delight to his companions by adding, 'Eet eez shocking!'

'You must erlaub, Sir Nugent Uffington,' said Baron Höchstadt, 'that mein gross-child is what you call very pretty.'

'I think it will be better,' said Madame de Nerval, smiling, and administering to the Baron a reproving slap, 'that we should make up our minds to talk French, which I am sure Sir Nugent Uffington speaks perfectly. I don't think, from the specimens I have heard, that you are to be trusted with English any longer.'

'You will do me the justice to say, Mélanie,' said M. Alexis Eyma, 'that during our long acquaintance you have never heard me attempt to pronounce a word of English except "jockei" and "come up." There is no language a horse understands so well; but I doubt whether it is of much use for other purposes.'

'And yet, monsieur, Shakespeare wrote in it,' said Uffington, turning towards him, 'and Walter Scott; you may possibly have heard of them?'

'As for Shakespeare, monsieur, _je m'en fiche_. I have read him in translation, and he is very _ennuyeux_; and Walter Scott was merely an inferior Dumas of the last century.'

'Let us go and find your friend Lord Forestfield, Sir Nugent,' said Madame de Nerval, interposing; 'he is in the other room, I think. Is it not curious,' she said, as she passed through the velvet _portière_ into the antechamber, 'that that horrid little man cannot be quiet, even in the houses of friends, but must endeavour at all risks to make himself conspicuous? Nothing in the world would please him better than to force you into a duel, even upon the most ridiculous questions. He is as brave as a lion, and has been out many times.'

'I think it would be better for his own comfort,' said Uffington, with a grim smile, 'if he wishes to make an Englishman his victim, to try his hand on Forestfield rather than on me. I have had a tolerable amount of practice both with sword and pistol, and my honour would not find itself satisfied after I had given or received a simple scratch. I should kill that little man, madame, and that would pain me very much after having had the pleasure of meeting him at your house.'

Madame de Nerval looked at him with great interest. 'They told me I should find you very eccentric,' she said, 'and they certainly were not wrong. Have you been intimate with Lord Forestfield?'

'I am not at all intimate with him,' said Uffington; 'on the contrary, I never spoke to him until yesterday.'

'I am glad of that,' said Madame de Nerval, 'very glad of that. You would not have been the man I had always heard of, and, _au reste_, the man I take you to be, if you had been a friend of milord's.'

'And yet you must be a friend of milord's, as you call him, and a very intimate friend too,' said Uffington. 'I saw him sitting next to you at the Cirque d'Eté last night, and paying you the most devoted attentions, and he is sufficiently at home here to be able to invite me to your house.'

'Ah,' said Madame de Nerval, with a shrug of her shoulders, 'that is quite a different thing. A woman is often compelled to be intimate with a man because it suits her purpose; in many instances we have not the option of taking or leaving, as is the case with men, and Lord Forestfield is _tant soit peu_ necessary to me at the present moment. You are smiling at my frankness, I see. I speak frankly because I had heard so much of you that I have always had a desire to see you, and now that we have met, I am not disappointed.'

'It is pleasant to have such a mark of your confidence,' said Uffington, with a smile; 'though I do not know what people have said of me, or what I can have done, that I should be so distinguished.'

'One word more before we find milord,' said Madame de Nerval: 'do you play cards?'

Uffington's face brightened at once, and the look of _insouciance_ which it generally wore passed away; but his voice had lost nothing of its ordinary tone of weariness as he replied,

'Occasionally, when I am in the company of card-players.'

'Have you skill or luck, or both?' asked Madame de Nerval.

'Or neither? you might have asked,' said Uffington, with a short laugh, 'for that is often the condition of your inveterate gambler. For my part, I can hold my own with most men that I play with, and occasionally I am exceptionally lucky. Why do you ask?'

'Because a considerable amount of play goes on here,' said Madame de Nerval, 'and if you had objected to it I should have advised your withdrawing at once, before Lord Forestfield knew of your arrival.'

'You are really very good,' said Uffington, 'and I am more than grateful for your thoughtful kindness; but the fact is, that I want a little distraction just now, and I am glad to think that I shall find it at the card-table.'

'_Allons_, then,' said Madame de Nerval, opening the door as she spoke.

Uffington found himself in a large room, with several card-tables set out and occupied.

At one the three Frenchmen whom he had met at Bignon's at breakfast in the morning were engaged with Forestfield at whist; at another _baccarat_ was being played, with some ladies, of the same pattern as those in the other room, looking on and occasionally betting, while now and then a Russian exclamation which escaped them betrayed the nationality of the gentlemen. There was a sideboard at one end of the room, on which were heaped various cold delicacies and tall bottles, while from time to time a couple of liveried servants walked round the tables, attending to the wants of the guests.

The rubber at whist was just over, and Lord Forestfield, having won, was pocketing his gains in great good humour, and leaning back in his chair with a saucy laugh of triumph, when Madame de Nerval touched him on the shoulder.

'Hallo, Mélanie, what is it?' he said, looking up. 'I have just finished my rubber, and was going to look after you. I was thinking--'

'I have brought your friend Sir Nugent Uffington, milord,' said Mélanie, interrupting him. 'I have introduced myself, and explained to Sir Nugent how glad I am to see him.'

'Here you are then, my good fellow,' said Forestfield, jumping up; 'I didn't catch sight of you at first behind Mélanie's ample skirts. So you have made acquaintance with her already, have you? that's right. I hate most women--I have reason to; but she is an exception to her sex--true-hearted, staunch, and if she did not understand English so well, I would say devilish handsome!'

'There is no woman, I think, who would not understand a compliment, in whatever language it might be paid to her,' said Mélanie, 'and I don't pretend to be any stronger-minded than the rest. One could tell that your friend was an Englishman, milord,' continued Mélanie, with a touch of coquetry which Uffington had not hitherto remarked in her, and which he soon saw was assumed, 'for we have been full five minutes together, and he has not yet said one pretty thing to me.'

'Has he not?' said Lord Forestfield. 'Well, I can understand that. You said all your sweet things years ago, didn't you, Sir Nugent? and a pretty mess you got into by saying them, I have heard.'

Uffington's face grew very dark; his nostrils dilated and his nether lip quivered; but he checked himself sufficiently to say, without any perceptible tremor in his voice, 'I grieve to hear so bad a character of myself from Madame de Nerval; and though I must own to having been silent about her charms, it was not owing to any want of appreciation of them. There is a proverb in our language, madame, in which it says that passions are like streams, "the shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb." I must ask you to think that that is my case, and also that,

"Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The charms of beauty I remember yet."'

'That is all rot about your being so old, Sir Nugent,' said Lord Forestfield gruffly; 'I can guess your age pretty well. I had just gone to Eton when that affair of yours with Mrs. Moggs, or whatever her name was, came off; and I recollect quite well all the fellows talking about it, and I wondered--'

'All the fellows have talked about it rather too much, Lord Forestfield,' said Uffington, touching him lightly on the arm; 'and I object to its being further discussed.'

'O, very well; I don't want to say anything more about it,' said Lord Forestfield, with a forced laugh. 'What will you do now? that is the thing. Are you fond of a game at cards? You might like to cut in at this whist-table; I am not going to play any more--these fellows don't play high enough for me--and you can have my place.'

'Thanks,' said Uffington, 'but I confess when I play I like to have some excitement. I like to rise up with the knowledge that I have either won or lost something considerable--not merely a few francs which will pay for my cab home, or which I shall not miss the next morning. The man who said that the greatest pleasure in life next to winning money at cards was losing it, was not far off the truth.'

'Gad, you are full of pluck,' said Lord Forestfield. 'It isn't often you hear fellows talk like that now.'

'That is because the men of the present day go into card-playing as they go into everything else,' said Uffington--'horse-racing, courting, what not, for the mere sordid sake of making money. They care nothing for the excitement of the game; they merely look to its pecuniary results--that is the feeling which, carried to an excess, turns high-bred gentlemen into club sharpers, and destroys the best elements which constitute society.'

'Yes, I daresay,' said Lord Forestfield, with a yawn, having been rather bored with this dissertation, 'no doubt what you say is quite right. By the way, do you play écarté?'

'Yes,' said Uffington, 'I play most games after a fashion.'

'Let us have a turn then,' said Lord Forestfield. 'I rather fancy myself at écarté, do you know?'

'Then you won't mind the stakes being high,' said Uffington. 'As I told you before, it seems to me waste of time to give oneself the trouble of playing with the interchange of a few shillings for the result.'

'O, I am on,' said Lord Forestfield. 'I don't mind particularly what the stakes are--let us say fifty pounds a game; you can raise your interest to what you like by betting on the hand.'

'That will do for me,' said Uffington. Then turning to Madame de Nerval, he said, 'If I had had the good fortune to make madame's acquaintance earlier, I should have asked her to wish me success. Now I have to struggle, not merely against my antagonist's skill, but against the knowledge that your prayers are being preferred in his favour.'

'Come, there is a polite speech for you at last, Mélanie,' said Lord Forestfield. 'Look here, like a good girl; tell one of those fellows to get us a table, and to bring a bottle of champagne and a tankard. I am horribly thirsty, and nothing will satisfy me but a big drink.'

The table was found, and the gentlemen seated themselves, Lord Forestfield having by his side a silver tankard, and at his feet the champagne-bottle in its cooler. Uffington contented himself with a glass of lemonade, which provoked much raillery on the part of his rival.

'You are going in for keeping your head cool, Sir Nugent, I see,' said Lord Forestfield, as he dealt; 'that sort of thing doesn't do for me. I have been so confoundedly bored at that game at whist with those three Frenchmen, though I won their money, that I want something to pick me up. I mark the king. That is not a bad beginning, Sir Nugent; champagne against lemonade any day. Come on.'

'That is owing to the presence of your guardian angel,' said Uffington, pointing to Madame de Nerval, who was standing by Lord Forestfield's side.

'Another compliment for you, Mélanie,' said Lord Forestfield, who was at this moment in high good humour. 'This cold Englishman is coming out--guardian angel, eh? Well, she is a very good girl, I believe,' he continued, tapping Madame de Nerval's hand familiarly. 'They say, don't they, that every man has two guardian angels--one good and one bad--to watch over his life. I have had enough of the bad,' he muttered between his teeth, 'and it is time the luck turned.'

When they fairly settled down to their play it was thought that they were very evenly matched, and that there was but little to choose between them. Lord Forestfield played with some recklessness, but with considerable skill and no small luck; Sir Nugent Uffington's play was cautious and guarded throughout; and so much interest was evoked by the contest, that gradually the other tables were deserted, and the company formed themselves into a circle round the écarté players. A good deal of betting was started, and Lord Forestfield seized every opportunity of backing his own hand to a considerable amount. Uffington, on the other hand, declined to bet, and concentrated his attention on the cards.

The result was that about five in the morning the party broke up; Lord Forestfield rose the conqueror by three games, and the winner of a great many bets. He was as overjoyed at his success as any neophyte, and on bidding Uffington good-night expressed his earnest hope that they should meet again and renew their tournament that evening. Uffington smiled, and declared his perfect readiness; then sauntered home to bed.

The sun was just beginning to rise as he reached his room at Meurice's. He threw open the window and leant out, inhaling the sweet scent which rose from the turf and trees in the Tuileries gardens, and watching the rising rays stealing over the cupolas of the old palace, and bathing them in golden light.

'Strange,' he said to himself; 'how exactly it has all come about as I could have wished. The meeting with Lydyeard at Torquay with the information of where this man was to be found; the stumbling upon him at once in Paris, and the quasi-intimacy that has ensued; then his newly-developed mania for play, the very means which I had devised for the end which I will most assuredly bring about. He has won to-night, and is exulting in his triumph; but I have no more doubt as to the ultimate result than I have of the right and justice of the cause in which I am engaged. They used to call me a fatalist in Moscow years ago, and I suppose they were not far wrong. This I know--that I have the most perfect faith in my carrying through this project, the most perfect certainty that luck will favour me; simply because I happen for once to be doing the right thing--to be fighting the battle for a woman who is, as I believe, more sinned against than sinning, and who is unable to help herself. This is the first time since I succeeded that I have felt thankful to fate for giving me poor young Mark's inheritance, with power and position and money wherewith to fight this scoundrel, for without them there would be no doing any good. He has no idea how much I know of his pecuniary embarrassments, and how completely he has spoiled his chance of marrying the heiress, as he hoped, by his conduct of the last three months. I am afraid that his recklessness and his fondness for drink must be ascribed to his annoyance at these lost chances. Now if Messrs. Moss only intelligently carry out my instructions, and secure for me the mortgage which Richards holds on the Woodburn property, so that I can foreclose at once, I have my friend in a vice and can screw him up to my terms. I had better get to bed now, and secure all the rest I can, for I have some heavy nights' work before me.'

That day week the Comte de Gerfuzet was busily engaged on his breakfast at the Café Anglais, and had arrived at the _tranche-de-melon_ stage, when the portly old Baron Höchstadt entering begged permission to seat himself at the table. This granted and his own breakfast ordered, the Baron, who was known among his acquaintance as a _gobemouche_ of the first order, assumed his interest-provoking expression, and began to talk.

'You were not at Mélanie's last night, _mon cher_?' quoth he, tucking a flowing napkin under his pendulous double chin.

'No. We dined at the Moulin Rouge, where it was horribly cold; and afterwards went to Bullier's, where it was hideously dull,' said the Count. 'It is getting too late in the season for open-air amusements. I should have enjoyed myself better at Mélanie's, I daresay. Was anything going on?'

'Anything! everything!' cried the Baron. 'You know that those two Englishmen, Milord Froschfeld and Sir Ofton, have been playing écarté there every night?'

'I know they played one night,' said the Count, 'but I have not been to Mélanie's since first Sir Ofton arrived. And they have been playing écarté, _ces gaillards_, have they? Which has been the winner?'

'At first milord; but about the third night fortune changed, and milord has lost _énormément_--Mélanie herself says _cinq mille livres sterlings_.'

'That is bad for Mélanie,' said the Count, giving the points of his moustaches an insinuating twist, 'for Lor' Frosfeel was very devoted and very generous to her.'

'So I thought, and yet she doesn't seem to feel it much,' said the Baron. 'However, you must come to-night, for they are going to play _quitte à quitte_, and there are several wagers, amounting to about as much, which milord proposes to settle in the same way.'

'Hein!' said the Count; 'they are curious people these English, certainly the most eccentric nation in the world. I have no great love for them, and shall certainly be present to see one of them ruin the other.'

At three o'clock the next morning, though upwards of fifty people remained in the large room at Madame de Nerval's, standing round a table at which two players were engaged, not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard save that made from time to time by the dealing of the cards. Gradually the interest and expectancy increased; the spectators ppushed forward with held breath and straining eyes. Then suddenly the ccrowd fell back, a long 'A-h!' conveying their pent-up feelings, and Lord Forestfield rose from his seat. He was pale, and had a seared strained look round the eyes, but otherwise was quite calm.

'You have been fortunate, Sir Nugent Uffington,' he said, with a slight tremor in his voice, 'and I am in your debt exactly double the sum for which you hold my acknowledgment. I will do myself the pleasure of calling on you to-morrow;' and with a stately bow to the company he walked out of the room.

'_Trés-bien fait!_' whispered the Count to his neighbour. 'It is on occasions like this that an Englishman's natural _froideur_ is of so much use to him.'