"What! these
men here?" he said to himself; "and I--I regarded my visit as a
sort of clandestine frolic."
There were only seven or eight ladies present, none of them being
especially attractive. Their toilettes were very costly, but in
rather doubtful taste, and they wore a profusion of diamonds.
Pascal noticed that these ladies were treated with perfect
indifference, and that, whenever the gentlemen spoke to them, they
assumed an air of politeness which was too exaggerated not to be
ironical.
A score of persons were seated at the card-table, and the guests
who had retired into the adjoining salon were silently watching
the progress of the game, or quietly chatting in the corners of
the room. It surprised him to note that every one spoke in very
low tones; there was something very like respect, even awe, in
this subdued murmur. One might have supposed that those present
were celebrating the rites of some mysterious worship. And is not
gaming a species of idolatry, symbolized by cards, and which has
its images, its fetishes, its miracles, its fanatics, and its
martyrs?
Occasionally, above the accompaniment of whispers, rose the
strange and incoherent exclamations of the players: "Here are
twenty louis! I take it--I pass! The play is made! Banco!"
"What a strange gathering!" thought Pascal Ferailleur. "What
singular people!" And he turned his attention to the mistress of
the house, as if he hoped to decipher the solution of the enigma
on her face.
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