"False, scandalously false, my dear," she said, laughing and looking about her. "But you know very well that the majority of those worn by the other women are no better. Ah, pearls! If all that shine in the world were brought together, the sea would not be large enough to have produced a tenth part."
She led the Prince toward the bar. She had a favor to ask of him. At midnight the game of baccarat commenced: she had asked for "the bank," but the rules of the Club prevented her from getting it. Alas for women! Even in gambling they were condemned to a position of degrading inferiority. Lost in the common crowd of "ponteurs" they might lose a fortune, but they were forbidden ever to hold the bank. The directors of this Club and other similar ones doubtless feared that women were more given to cheating than men. She, the Duchess de Delille, could not be the equal of a Greek sailor, who dealt every evening with unheard-of luck, causing the crowd to feel suspicious and think evil thoughts.
"They insist that I get a man to deal for me. He must appear as my banker, although every one knows that the capital is mine. I thought that you might do me this favor. I like to think of our going together into this business which means life or death to me! Besides, I am sure of success if you deal. And what an event! How they would bet! Prince Lubimoff playing the banker!"
But she did not continue. Michael interrupted her with a decisive gesture of refusal. It made no difference what she said. He was indignant at the very idea that people should see him seated at the green table, playing with money that did not belong to him, and having Alicia at his back. Besides, he was sure of losing.
The Duchess hastily left him. Time was flying, and any minute they might give out the bank. She believed once more in her good star as she saw a young man timidly slipping through the crowd.
"Spadoni! Spadoni!"
The pianist grew pale on hearing her. "Oh, Duchess!" He trembled and stammered with emotion. He dealing in the Sporting-Club before an elegant opera night crowd, handling thousands of francs, with all eyes fixed on him! It was the crowning moment of his career; after that he could die happy.
Two players had asked for the bank, the famous Greek and a manufacturer from Paris, who had gotten fabulously rich making munitions. Spadoni also presented himself, carrying in a purse the fifteen thousand francs which were necessary in order to take charge of the bank. Lots were to be drawn among the three petitioners. An employee of the Club took a wicker basket that held ten numbered balls and after shaking it, threw out three on the table: one for each. Alicia mingling with them with masculine familiarity, almost clapped her hands with joy. Luck had favored Spadoni, the bank was his. But the pianist, respectful of the privileges due to genius, showed his sense of profound humility in smiles and expressions of face and eyes that seemed to beg pardon of the Greek, his rival.
The Greek was a stout man with a figure that almost formed a square, with a dark shiny complexion, black mustache and eyes that were somewhat slanting, and had a fixed aggressive look, suggesting those of a wild boar. His ancestors had been pirates in the Archipelago, and he, finding this heroic career cut off, had become a smuggler in his youth. Spadoni, somewhat intimidated by the majesty of the great man, stammered excuses with his eyes fixed on the Greek's shining shirt-bosom, adorned with pearls, and his gray silk vest that covered a heavy paunch. But the Greek replied, with an ill-humored grunt, walking away after favoring the Duchess with a bow like one of those he had seen on the stage. Although he scarcely knew how to read, the Greek was posted on the proper way of treating a lady who declares war.
It was twelve o'clock. The gambling stopped at the roulette wheels and the trente et quarante tables. The crowd was gathering in the baccarat room. The news had gone around: The pianist Spadoni, considered by every one as a pleasing parasite, was going to occupy the place that had been held on former evenings by the Greek, but in reality the bank belonged to the Duchess de Delille.