“God forbid!” said Ina. Then she sighed again, and her queenly head sunk lower. Then she faltered out, “I have the will to break faith and ruin poor people, but I have not the courage.”
Then a tear or two began to trickle, carrying with them all the egotistical resolution Ina Klosking possessed at that time. Perhaps we shall see her harden: nothing stands still.
This time the poor conquered.
But every now and then for many days there were returns of torment and agitation and wild desire to escape to England.
Ashmead made head against these with his simple arts. For one thing, he showed her a dozen paragraphs in MS. he was sending to as many English weekly papers, describing her heavy gains at the table. “With these stones,” said he, “I kill two birds: extend your fame, and entice your idol back to you.” Here a growl, which I suspect was an inarticulate curse. Joseph, fi!
The pen of Joseph on such occasions was like his predecessor's coat, polychromatic. The Klosking read him, and wondered. “Alas!” said she, “with what versatile skill do you descant on a single circumstance not very creditable.”
“Creditable!” said Ashmead; “it was very naughty, but it is very nice.” And the creature actually winked, forgetting, of course, whom he was winking at, and wasting his vulgarity on the desert air; for the Klosking's eye might just manage to blink—at the meridian sun, or so forth; but it never winked once in all its life.
One of the paragraphs ran thus, with a heading in small capitals:
“A PRIMA DONNA AT THE GAMBLING TABLE.
“Mademoiselle Klosking, the great contralto, whose success has been already recorded in all the journals, strolled, on one of her off nights, into the Kursaal at Homburg, and sat down to trente et quarante. Her melodious voice was soon heard betting heavily, with the most engaging sweetness of manner; and doubling seven times upon the red, she broke the bank, and retired with a charming courtesy and eight thousand pounds in gold and notes.”