“Why doesn’t he take it?” said Lady Glencora.
“He is taking it,” said Alice, not at all knowing the cause of her cousin’s anxiety.
Burgo had paused a moment, and then prepared to rake the money to him; but as he did so, he changed his mind, and pushed it all back again—now, on this occasion, being very careful to place it on its former spot. Both Alice and Glencora could see that a man at his elbow was dissuading him—had even attempted to stop the arm which held the rake. But Burgo shook him off, speaking to him some word roughly, and then again he steadied the rolls upon their appointed place. The croupier who had paused for a moment now went on quickly with his cards, and in two minutes the fate of Burgo’s wealth was decided. It was all drawn back by the croupier’s unimpassioned rake, and the rolls of gold were restored to the tray from whence they had been taken.
Burgo looked up and smiled at them all round the table. By this time most of those who stood around were looking at him. He was a man who gathered eyes upon him wherever he might be, or whatever he was doing; and it had been clear that he was very intent upon his fortune, and on the last occasion the amount staked had been considerable. He knew that men and women were looking at him, and therefore he smiled faintly as he turned his eyes round the table. Then he got up, and, putting his hands in his trousers pockets, whistled as he walked away. His companion followed him, and laid a hand upon his shoulder; but Burgo shook him off, and would not turn round. He shook him off, and walked on whistling, the length of the whole salon.
“Alice,” said Lady Glencora, “it is Burgo Fitzgerald.” Mr. Palliser had gone so deep into that question of German finance that he had not at all noticed the gambler. “Alice, what can we do for him? It is Burgo,” said Lady Glencora.
Many eyes were now watching him. Used as he was to the world and to misfortune, he was not successful in his attempt to bear his loss with a show of indifference. The motion of his head, the position of his hands, the tone of his whistling, all told the tale. Even the unimpassioned croupiers furtively cast an eye after him, and a very big Guard, in a cocked hat, and uniform, and sword, who hitherto had hardly been awake, seemed evidently to be interested by his movements. If there is to be a tragedy at these places—and tragedies will sometimes occur—it is always as well that the tragic scene should be as far removed as possible from the salons, in order that the public eye should not suffer.
Lady Glencora and Alice had left their places, and had shrunk back, almost behind a pillar. “Is it he, in truth?” Alice asked.
“In very truth,” said Glencora. “What can I do? Can I do anything? Look at him, Alice. If he were to destroy himself, what should I do then?”
Burgo, conscious that he was the regarded of all eyes, turned round upon his heel and again walked the length of the salon. He knew well that he had not a franc left in his possession, but still he laughed and still he whistled. His companion, whoever he might be, had slunk away from him, not caring to share the notoriety which now attended him.
“What shall I do, Alice?” said Lady Glencora, with her eyes still fixed on him who had been her lover.
“Tell Mr. Palliser,” whispered Alice.
Lady Glencora immediately ran up to her husband, and took him away from Mr. Grey. Rapidly she told her story—with such rapidity that Mr. Palliser could hardly get in a word. “Do something for him;—do, do. Unless I know that something is done, I shall die. You needn’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” said Mr. Palliser.
Lady Glencora, as she went on quickly, got hold of her husband’s hand, and caressed it. “You are so good,” said she. “Don’t let him out of your sight. There; he is going. I will go home with Mr. Grey. I will be ever so good; I will, indeed. You know what he’ll want, and for my sake you’ll let him have it. But don’t let him gamble. If you could only get him home to England, and then do something. You owe him something, Plantagenet; do you not?”
“If money can do anything, he shall have it.”
“God bless you, dearest! I shall never see him again; but if you could save him! There;—he is going now. Go;—go.” She pushed him forward, and then retreating, put her arm within Mr. Grey’s, still keeping her eye upon her husband.
Burgo, when he first got to the door leading out of the salon, had paused a moment, and, turning round, had encountered the big gendarme close to him. “Well, old Buffer, what do you want?” said he, accosting the man in English. The big gendarme simply walked on through the door, and said nothing. Then Burgo also passed out, and Mr. Palliser quickly went after him. They were now in the large front salon, from whence the chief door of the building opened out upon the steps. Through this door Burgo went without pausing, and Mr. Palliser went after him. They both walked to the end of the row of buildings, and
