The great phenomenon was taking place there. Craning his neck above the shoulders of two sightseers, Michael caught a glimpse of Alicia seated at the table with an anxious expression on her face. All eyes were upon her. In front of her, were heaps of bank notes and many columns of chips. There were the five hundred franc ovals, and the one thousand franc squares, "little cakes of soap" as they call the latter, in the language of the Casino.
Suddenly she raised her head as though realizing instinctively the presence of some one interesting to her. And her eyes fell straight on Michael. She greeted him with a happy smile. There was the suggestion of a kiss in her glance. And all the people there, with the submission of a mob when dominated by enthusiasm or amazement, followed her eyes to see who the man was whom the heroine was greeting in this manner. The vanity of the Prince was flattered, as it used to be when some celebrated actress greeted him from the stage and went on singing with her eyes fastened upon him to dedicate to him her trills. Once, when he was a boy, a bull-fighter had bowed to him in a friendly way before giving the final death thrust in the arena. Alicia seemed to be choosing him as her god of luck.
But immediately she fell back into the deep absorption of the play. She was not alone. An invisible and powerful person was standing behind her chair, bending over her to whisper in her ear some word of unfailing counsel, to suggest some unlooked for resolution, some original and daring idea. Her eyes, lighted by a mysterious fire, were gazing on something that no one else could see. Her mute lips trembled with nervous contractions, as though she were talking with some one who did not need sound to be able to hear. Michael felt there was a demon-like power beside her, the inspiration of the unforgettable hours which reveal to artists a masterful harmony, an illuminating word, or a supreme stroke of the brush; the inspiration which prompts the final slaughter in battle or the decisive move in some business venture, that means either millions or suicide.
She had begun to plunge. Her hand carelessly pushed forward a column of twelve rectangular chips, with an extra oval one: twelve thousand five hundred francs, the maximum amount that could be risked in "trente et quarante." The crowd, with the idolatry which victors inspire, was hoping for the Duchess, as though each one expected to share in her winning. They all knew she was going to win. And when as a matter of fact she did win, there was a murmur of satisfaction, a sigh of relief from that oval of sightseers pressing against the backs of the chairs occupied by the players. From time to time she lost, and profound silence expressed their sympathy. Sometimes after advancing a column of chips, she closed her eyes as though listening to some one who remained invisible, and moving her head in sign of assent, withdrew the stakes. Once more there arose a murmur of satisfaction, when the public saw that she had withdrawn her money just in time, and had scored, as it were, a negative triumph.
Many of them computed with greedy eyes the sums amassed in front of her.
"She's in the three hundred thousands already—perhaps she has more—Oh! if she would only succeed in making it millions! What fun it would be to see her break the bank!"
To these comments spoken in low tones were added the laudatory exclamations of a few elderly women who looked at the conqueror with adoring eyes. "How nice she is!—a great lady and so beautiful!—Good luck to her!"
A dark shoulder over which the Prince was looking moved and the Prince saw Spadoni's face close to his. The pianist did not show the slightest surprise; as though they had separated only a few minutes before. He did not even greet Michael. The astonishment which caused the pupils of his eyes to dilate, the indignation and envy that this insolent fortune inspired, made it necessary for the pianist to express his feelings in a protest.
"Have you noticed, Highness—she doesn't know how to play—she goes against all rules, all logic. She doesn't know the first thing about it, not the first thing!"
Immediately his eyes returned to the table, forgetting the Prince on hearing once more a stifled outburst from the crowd. A little more and some of the people would be applauding the repeated triumphs of the Duchess. Those who had lost during the previous days, were rejoicing with the joy of vengeance. "What an evening! You don't see this every day." They smiled and nudged each other as they noticed the coming and going of the inspectors, the presence of high officials who strove to hide their concern, the long faces of attendants as they returned from the head cashier with new packages of one thousand franc chips to pay this lady who had swept the table bare of money three times. The news of her extraordinary run of luck circulated throughout the entire edifice. At that moment the gentlemen of the management must have been discussing in their offices on the top floor the bad trick that chance had dared to play them. A mood of anticipation and excitement, akin to the whispering of a revolution, spread through every nook and cranny. Those who had no tickets for the private rooms asked for news from those who were coming out, repeating what they had heard with exaggeration born of enthusiasm. In the wardrobe, in the lavatories, in the inner corridors, in all the subterranean and winding passageways where the servants, maids and firemen lived under an eternal electric light, this news shook the sleepy calm of the humbler employees. The atmosphere of excitement was similar to that which circulates through the half deserted corridors of the Chamber of Deputies while in the semi-circle teeming with emotion, a Prime Minister is fighting to survive a crisis. The news gathered momentum as it passed from group to group with that satisfaction mingled with uneasiness which is inspired in employees by the reverses of their employers.