"Then I must claim the ten minutes at least," she rejoined, gathering her robe together and making way for the stout old gentleman by her side on the couch.
In the adjoining card-room, too, the guests were bent upon making the most of the last few minutes by doubling and trebling their high stakes. All the players now were civilians, chiefly neighbouring proprietors, who could afford to lose a few hundreds. Some of the officers had at first joined in the game, but only at first, and with very small stakes, as if to show that, so far as they were concerned, the whole thing was a little harmless social amusement--nothing more. When heavier sums began to be staked, they had at once ceased playing, and had gradually melted away. The Oberförster, or ranger, who was only looking on, thought that this had been done in obedience to a signal from the Colonel himself, who had passed through the card-room on his way out.
"All the better," the Baron had sneered; "then we shall remain snugly among ourselves. Faites votre jeu, Messieurs!"
And indeed the Baron, so the gentlemen present thought, had good reason to find his position a snug one. He was winning almost without interruption. The heap of bank-notes and gold coins by his side was ever increasing; among the bank-notes were already a good few slips, on which the players had written their names and the amount of their stakes; his gains were said to be several thousands. He asserted that it was nothing like that sum, and repeatedly offered to let some one else take the bank; but no one cared to accept his offer; and thus the losers had no right to grumble, although for some time now they had been, as one of them said, hurrying in pursuit of their own money. They had need to hurry if they would overtake the money which was ever fleeting. The Baron's proposal that the game should cease punctually at half-past eleven, the time fixed for the conclusion of the ball, had been agreed to, and it was now almost a quarter past. The Baron saw already, from the large stakes which the players were venturing, that, as the cards were more than ever in his favour, his gains would be doubled; his jubilant mirth proved the excitement he was labouring under; he had some funny word for every card he dealt, every deal he scored, and all the while his eyes were glowing, and his busy hands were twitching nervously. Suddenly there was a change. One of the players had staked a sum equivalent to the total of his losses during the evening--and had won! This daring play, and the success which had crowned it, stimulated the others; and now everything went against the banker. In a few minutes his heap had dwindled down to less than half, and it became evident that if, during the remaining quarter of an hour, the bank were pursued by the same bad luck, it must needs end with a considerable balance the wrong way. The jests of the Baron became more and more bitter; presently he took to whistling savagely through his closed teeth, interspersing this with muttered curses; his eyes, now roving restlessly around the room, seemed repeatedly to be fixing themselves upon same one within the room. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a deal, and exclaimed, with a semi-audible curse-- "You are bringing me bad luck, sir! You are in my way, sir!"
These words, which he had uttered in the most violent way, were accompanied by a fierce look at Kurt, who, to avoid meeting Bertram, had entered the room a few minutes ago, and had since been standing with folded arms among the spectators, who, attracted and enchained by the sight of the maddening game, had, in ever-increasing numbers, grouped themselves around the board of green cloth. The scene had not had any attraction for him; his mind was far away; he had stared mechanically before him without seeing anything; nor had he heard the Baron's words; he only felt it disagreeable that several gentlemen near him were looking hard at him. One of them thought it incumbent upon himself to whisper to Kurt that the Baron had meant his remarks for him. Kurt, under the impression that Lotter had been asking him to join in the game, and not wishing to say it aloud, replied in a courteous whisper to the gentleman who had called his attention to the fact that the Baron had meant his remarks for him--
"I am sorry, but I never play."
He accompanied this by an apologetic shrug of the shoulders towards the Baron, and turned upon his heel. As soon as he was free of the crowd surging around him, he made for the door leading to the verandah, hoping that there he would be left to himself and to his own sad thoughts.
The Baron burst into a hoarse, mocking laughter when he saw Kurt turn; he went on dealing, with trembling hands, then jumped suddenly to his feet, exclaiming--
"Excuse me, but I must ask the gentleman, what he means by shrugging his shoulders."
He flung the remaining cards upon the table, and was rushing towards the door through the crowd of amazed and excited spectators, whom he pushed rudely aside if they did not make way quickly enough. Before he reached the door, however, Bertram faced him, barring the way.