Pascal saw he could expect no assistance from this source. “M. de Coralth could assure you,” he began.
“Oh, enough of that,” interrupted a player. “I myself heard M. de Coralth do his best to persuade you not to play.”
So the unfortunate fellow’s last and only hope had vanished. Still he made a supreme effort, and addressing Madame d’Argeles: “Madame,” he said, in a voice trembling with anguish? “I entreat you, tell what you know. Will you allow an honorable man to be ruined before your very eyes? Will you abandon an innocent man whom you could save by a single word?” But she remained silent; and Pascal staggered as if some one had dealt him a terrible blow. “It is all over!” he muttered.
No one heard him; everybody was listening to the baron, who seemed to be very much put out. “We are wasting precious time with all this,” said he. “We should have made at least five rounds while this absurd scene has been going on. We must put an end to it. What are you going to do with this fellow? I am in favor of sending for a commissary of police.”
Such was not at all the opinion of the majority of the guests. Four or five of the ladies took flight at the bare suggestion and several men—the most aristocratic of the company—became angry at once. “Are you mad?” said one of them. “Do you want to see us all summoned as witnesses? You have probably forgotten that Garcia affair, and that rumpus at Jenny Fancy’s house. A fine thing it would be to see, no one knows how many great names mixed up with those of sharpers and notorious women!”
Naturally of a florid complexion, the baron’s face now became scarlet. “So it’s fear of scandal that deters you! Zounds, sir! a man’s courage should equal his vices. Look at me.”
Celebrated for his income of eight hundred thousand francs a year, for his estates in Burgundy, for his passion for gaming, his horses, and his cook, the baron wielded a mighty influence. Still, on this occasion he did not carry the day, for it was decided that the “sharper” should be allowed to depart unmolested. “Make him at least return the money,” growled a loser; “compel him to disgorge.”
“His winnings are there upon the table.”
“Don’t believe it,” cried the baron. “All these scoundrels have secret pockets in which they stow away their plunder. Search him by all means.”
“That’s it—search him!”