Chapter III: The Tiger Tastes Blood

"Cis, my boy," said Frank, as they stepped into the street, "you have made a conquest there; poor Chetsom!"

"Pshaw!" said Cecil, "don't be absurd, Frank; she knows I'm married."

Frank stopped--turned him round to look him full in the face--and then whistled.

"Cis, your innocence--if it be not hypocrisy--is worthy of a primitive age. Married! She knows you're married! Ha! ha! ha! By George! you remind me of that vaudeville we saw last year at the _Variétés_ in Paris, where Lafont embraces Ozy, who repulses him with--_Mais, Mosieu, j'aime mon mari_; to which Lafont, stupefied at such innocence, as I am at yours, replies--_Tiens! tu aimes ton mari? c'est bizarre, sans doute; mais enfin ce n'est pas defendu!_"

"Joke as you please; I repeat, Hester knows I am married, and may easily see that I have no disposition to be unfaithful."

"Cis, you ought to have a statue! Damn my whiskers!" They walked on for some moments without speaking. "By the way, Cis, you asked me to lend you some money. I hadn't it then, I have now. I won a few yellow boys of a conceited ass who had the amiable weakness of fancying he could play _écarté_--and with me too--with me! It is but a paltry seven that I won, but that properly placed must bring in more. I think you have never played _rouge et noir_, have you?"

"Never; nor do I intend."

"Nonsense! look here: Men always win at first: it's an invariable rule. Fortune always seduces youngsters with smiles. Now, I'll lend you five pounds, if you will try your luck, and give me a third of your winnings."

Cecil refused, was pressed, and refused again: but he never could withstand Frank for any length of time, and ended by accompanying him to a gambling-house. They knocked at the door; and after a scrupulous examination on the part of the porter, who did not at first recognise Frank--no one being admitted except when introduced by a frequenter of the house--they ascended to the drawing-room, where they found a rather numerous assembly.

There were three tables. That in the centre was the most attended: it was the _rouge et noir_ table. That on the left was devoted to roulette; that on the right to hazard. There was a low hubbub and confusion of voices, above which rose these sounds:

"Make your game, gentlemen."

"The game is made."

"Seven's the main."

"Red wins."

Cecil approached the centre table, and was instantly made way for by two lookers-on. At the side centre sat the dealer, before him two packs of cards placed together; beside him two croupiers. Opposite sat two croupiers, and a man who collected and shuffled the cards. Piles of gold, bank notes, and silver counters were glittering on the table, enough to awaken the spirit of gain in the most prudent breast.

It was a painful sight. The features of the players were distorted by anxiety; those of the dealer and croupiers had become hardened into masks, more hideous in their sodden calmness than agitation could have made them.

Painful, also, the contrasts afforded by the players. Some were reckless, others calculating; some were feverish in their impatience; others lost in quiet despair small sums which to them were fortunes; while several passed hours together pricking a card with a pin, and trying to wrest the secret of the capricious goddess, by counting the turns of her wheel; then, after as much calculation and patience as would, if directed to any honest employment, have produced a tangible result, hazarding their solitary half-crown, and losing it in astonishment and dismay.

Seedy, withered men were also there, whose whole existence depended upon their trivial gains; who daily risked their few shillings, content to retire with a few shillings gain, which they took home to their wretched families--and if they lost, content to abide the loss, without further risk that day. There was one man there who bore the unmistakeable marks of a gentleman, in spite of the worn, anxious face and seedy dress; he was never known to miss an evening, and never to play more than four coups on each evening. His stake was invariably half a crown, and it was rare indeed that he did not win three coups out of the four--timing his stake with such knowledge of the chances. With the seven and sixpence or ten shillings he thus gained, he supported a wife and five children.

Is there not something singularly distressing in such an existence? To struggle daily with the capricious turns of fortune for a miserable three half-crowns, and to gain that only by consummate self-mastery! Yet there are men who choose such a life, rather than one of honourable labour; men who have mastery enough over their passions to be cool at the gaming-table, yet not sufficient mastery to keep _from_ it! This would be inexplicable did we not know the powerful attraction of all exciting uncertainty: did we not recognise the inherent desire for emotional excitement which is implanted in every heart. In honourable labour such men have not learnt to seek their excitement--they find it at the gaming-table; and hence the fascination of gaming. It is to be noted, in confirmation of what has just been said, that inveterate gamesters are thoroughly aware of the enormous disadvantage at which they play--thoroughly convinced the bank must win--yet they play!

The scene was new to Cecil, and affected him painfully, as it always does those who are not carried away by the passion of gaming; but he was there to play _once_, and he surmounted his disgust; inwardly vowing that whatever might be the fortune of that night, he would never repeat the experiment.

The room was singularly quiet, considering how many persons were assembled. The sounds of bottles being uncorked, the clatter of glasses, and the chink of money were distinctly audible; conversation being carried on for the most part in whispers.

Cecil played. Frank, trusting entirely to the good fortune which so proverbially favours beginners, abstained from giving him any advice. He played at random and lost. His five pounds were soon gone. Frank slipped the other two into his hand; they followed the others. As the last crown disappeared, Cecil saw a young man heap together a pile of notes and sovereigns; huddling them into his pocket, he called for some champagne, and having drunk it, departed. He came down stairs at the same moment with Frank and Cecil, in high spirits.

"That's what we ought to have done," said Frank.

"Why did you force me to play?" said Cecil, bitterly; like all weak men, throwing the blame of his own folly upon others.

"Who the devil would have supposed you could lose the first time?"

"Well--it is a bit of experience. Perhaps I have bought it cheap after all."

He walked home, however, as angry as if he were by no means so satisfied with the bargain; and Blanche, who was sitting up for him as usual, was surprised to find him so out of humour. He was sometimes tired when he came home, but always ready to talk freely with her, and recount the adventures of the day. That night he was taciturn, and gave evasive short replies to all her questions; till at last she saw that he was unwilling to talk, and left him in peace.

He was restless that night. It was long before he went to sleep; and when he did fall into a fitful doze, he was troubled by strange dreams of the gaming-table. Sometimes he was playing with a pile of notes before him; sometimes he had lost every shilling, and awoke in his despair--to find himself in bed.