THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      CHAPTER XIV

      IN WHICH MARIUS WINS TEN THOUSAND FRANCS

      THE Corneille Club was one of those authorized gambling hells that were referred to in the preceding chapter. In principle it should only have comprised members admitted by a majority of voices and paying a subscription of twenty-five francs; but, in reality, everyone could go there and gamble. At the commencement, to save appearances, they were in the habit of pasting a list of the newcomers up on the glass; or else strangers were obliged to give a card of introduction supplied by one of the members. Later on they had omitted to ask for the card and they had not taken the trouble to post up the names. Anyone could go there who liked.

      Of course the master-stevedore was an upright man incapable of committing a base action; but his life of pleasure had caused him to make strange friendships. He naively said that he preferred the society of rogues to that of straightforward people, for while the latter worried him the former made him laugh. He sought low society by instinct, because he could there unbutton himself at his ease, and amuse himself as he pleased, that is to say by making a frightful riot. Besides, with his affected air of a simple, easy man, he concealed extraordinary cunning and prudence: he never compromised himself, gambled little, and withdrew as soon as he ran the least danger. He was aware of the shady reputation of the majority of the frequenters of the Corneille Club, and he went there because he met with ladies who were the reverse of being straitlaced, and was able to satisfy his inclinations of an upstart.

      Sauvaire and Marias, after ascending a narrow staircase, reached a spacious apartment on the first floor where a score of marble-topped tables were set out. Against the walls were divans covered with red velvet and in the centre rush-seated chairs: you might have imagined yourself in a café. At the end was a large table covered with green cloth on which two squares were marked out with red braid, and between these was a well for the cards that had been used. This was the gaming-table. It was surrounded by chairs.

      Marius cast a bewildered look over the place on entering. He was suffocating, like a man who had just fallen into the water. Anyone, to look at him, might have thought that he had just come into a cavern where wild beasts were about to devour him. His heart was beating rapidly and his brow covered with perspiration. A sort of timidity mingled with repugnance kept him motionless, awkward, and gave him an embarrassed appearance.

      There was hardly anyone in the room. A few men were drinking. Two women were conversing excitedly in a low tone in the corner. The gaming-table remained dark and unoccupied in the background, for the gas burners which descended in the centre of the green cloth had not vet been lit.

      Marius regained his assurance little by little; but the fever continued raging in his veins.

      “What will you take?” inquired Sauvaire.

      “Whatever you like,” answered the young man, in an offhand way, staring at the table with curiosity and alarm.

      The master-stevedore ordered beer. He extended himself full length on a divan and lit a cigar.

      “Ah! There is Clairon, along with her friend Isnarde,” he all at once exclaimed, perceiving the two girls talking in a corner. “Look what pearls of women they are! Eh! what say you? They are the sort of little creatures you require to drive away your troubles.”

      Marius looked at the girls. Clairon wore an old black velvet gown stained and frayed; she was short, dark, faded; her face, which was pale and covered with yellow spots, wore an air of weariness which was painful to look at. Isnarde, who was tall and thin, appeared still older and more worn out; it seemed as if her angular limbs would pierce through her faded silk gown at the shoulders. Marius was at a loss to understand Sauvaire’s passionate admiration for these creatures. He turned away his head with an expression of disgust; Fine’s healthy countenance had just appeared to him, and he felt ashamed at being in such a place.

      The high key of Sauvaire’s voice had made the two girls turn their heads and they began to laugh.

      “Oh! they are buxom lasses,” murmured the master-stevedore, “there’s no mourning in their society. If you like we’ll take them off with us tonight?”

      “Aren’t we going to play?” inquired Marius, sharply, interrupting his companion.

      “Good heavens! What a hurry you are in!” answered Sauvaire, who stretched himself out still more to attract the girls’ attention. “Of course we are going to play, we’ll play until tomorrow morning if you like. But dash it, there’s time enough for that. Just observe how Clairon and Isnarde are looking at me.”

      The frequenters of the place gradually came in. A waiter lit the gas, and several players went and seated themselves at the gaming-table. The two girls began to move about the room, smiling on the men they knew; they ended by seating themselves near the banker who held the cards, hoping, no doubt, to glean a few twenty-franc pieces. Sauvaire then consented to approach the players.

      Marius stayed for a moment standing, studying the game. He leant over to his companion and said:

      “Kindly explain to me how I must act.”

      The master-stevedore was very much amused at the young man’s naïvete.

      “But, my good fellow,” he answered, “nothing is easier. Where have you come from? Everyone knows baccara. Come here, sit down. Place your stake on this side or that, in one of these squares surrounded by a red band. You see the banker makes use of two packs of cards of different coloured backs and of fifty-two cards each; he deals two cards on each side and two to himself. The tens and picture cards do not count; the highest point is nine and it is necessary to get as near that as possible. If you have more than the banker, you win; if less, you lose. That’s all.”

      “But,” said Marius, “I see some of the players ask for a card.”

      “Yes,” answered Sauvaire, “you are allowed to draw a card to arrange your hand. You often disarrange it. I advise you to always stand at six; it’s a nice point.”

      Marius sat down at the table.

      “Don’t you play?” he inquired of Sauvaire.

      “Faith, СКАЧАТЬ