University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

The scene of the story now changes to the streets of Marseilles. It is
night; but the hour is not late. The cafes are open and brilliantly lighted;
the theatre is illuminated and surrounded by carriages; the foot-ways are
thronged with passers-by, and the sound of music and gaiety comes from
the open windows of many a stately mansion and princely hotel.

A little remote from the crowded thoroughfare, at the corner of a narrow
street leading to the Quay, is a large rambling structure built of stone,
crowned with a battlement and surmounted by two turrets. It was erected
three or four centuries before for the residence of the Captaine of the Port;
but had now got to be a sort of inn for the entertainment of seafaring strangers.
One of the tenants contained a spy-glass for the convenience of the
guests in looking out upon the harbor and road-sted, to watch the arrival of
vessels, and the other served as a signal tower, to announce by a flag the
nation of any vessel that was approaching the port. The part of the building
facing the quay was wide and imposing. The lower floor was occupied
as a cafe, where from morning till night, was to be found assembled
most of the officers of vessels in port. From the second story, projected a
spacious balcony where they sat and smoked or read the Gazettes, with the
lively scenes of the quay and harbor to divide their attention. On the side
next the narrow street alluded to, the edifice presented in form and appearance
a long high, dark wall, with here and there a small window many feet
from the ground; looking altogether like the rear of a convent. At the extremity
of this blank wall was a small postern door, which led into the garden,
enclosed from the narrow lane. An old yew-tree grew at this angle,
overshadowing the walk for many a yard with its wide-reaching branches.

At the hour of night, on which this chapter opens, a young man might

have been seen walking to and fro beneath this tree, buried in his own
thoughts. He was wrapped in a cloak, as if to conceal his features and person,
for the night was not cool, but the front was now dropped from his face
upon his breast, across which his arms were folded. He had a few minutes
before, come out of the brightly lighted cafe at the corner, and turned
with a quick tread up this solitary avenue, as if seeking seclusion. By the
light of the lamps as he passed out, it could be seen that his face was flushed
and its expression troubled. The features were those of Francis Winter.
As he reached the tree, he stopped as if uncertain whether or not to proceed.
The lane at its outlet led into one of the most frequented streets of
the city, and the glimmer of its lights penetrated far into the gloom of the
lane. He stopped and seemed to reflect for a moment, and then returning
upon his steps, began to pace to and fro slowly, and yet treading at times
with a marked decision of step that betrayed a strong conflict of feeling
within. He continued in this manner, pacing to and fro in the shadow of
the lofty wall as a seaman paces his deck; when hearing a footstep he
raised his head. The person who advanced, came from the farther extremity
of the lane. Frank listened with eager attention and then moved on a
few paces to meet him as if recognising the step. He stopped near the
postern and awaited him.

`Frank!' said the stranger as he came within a few feet of him.

`Ellis?' he responded. `So you have returned,' he said eagerly. `What
success?'

`Three hundred francs!' answered the young man, who as Barton Ellis,
has already been introduced to the reader, as one of Frank's fellow midshipman.

`There hundred franks!' cried Winter through his clenched teeth.

`They would offer no more. I did my best, Frank.'

`It is not enough! Three hundred francs for a watch and jewelry that
cost a thousand!'

`It will answer our present emergencies, Winter. You can redeem it
again you know as soon as your two thousand dollar remittance comes.'

`Yes—it is not like selling it for that sum. But on what time have you
got this done?'

`Thirty days.'

`It is enough. I shall get my money then, if ever. It is time a vessel
was here from Boston. Did not Du Moulin & Co. say they expected a packet
daily?'

`Yes. I have no doubt we shall have her in this week. So dont let the
blues take hold of you so infernally, Frank!' You have been looking the
last three days as if you had not a friend on earth.'

`And if the friends I value most, knew what had been my course since I
quit the corvette I am very positive I should not have a friend on earth,
Ellis!'

`If every body else should cut you Frank, I am your true friend you
know, hey?' said Ellis with a sort of tipsy, maudlin tone.

`Yes you'll be my friend, Ellis; so long as I have any money or means
to raise it with,' answered Winter, with a slight shadow of contempt.

`Oh, dont say that, Frank, my dear boy,' answered Ellis colouring and
biting his lip, yet too dependent upon his friend to take offence at an insult;
`I like you Frank. You are a devilish noble fellow.'

`Well—let me see the money you have got at this brokers!' said Winter
moodily.

`You are cross to-night, Winter,' answered Ellis, as he placed in his hand
a small bag of silver. `The jingle of this, my dear fellow, should put you
into good humor.'

`It is better than nothing. It may enable me to redeem my losses. Here

are twenty-five francs, for your trouble Ellis;' and Frank as he spoke
placed this sum in his hand.

`Thank you, Winter,' said the young man, accepting it with an air of affected
indifference, to disguise if possible from himself his own sense of dependence
and degredation.

`Come now, let us to the salon,' said Frank with animation—a sort of
false gaiety. `Come, Ellis! I will try once more the fickle jade. I must
win to night or I am a lost man! I have been three days without money,
and my host has in the meanwhile handed me his bill, for myself and you
Barton, to the tune of two hundred and fifty francs! I should relieve myself
from great embarrasment by at once placing this money in his hands to
pay it, leaving us twenty five francs apiece to try our fortune.'

`That would be folly, Frank! what is twenty-five francs to you who never
stake less than fifty. To a poor devil like me who never saw any more
money than a middy's pay, twenty-five francs is a small fortune to begin
with. But you wouldn't look at it! Let old Fonbleau learn patience, and
wait your remittance.'

`I will do so. You say true. If I pay him and loose my twenty five
francs, then I am shipwrecked. I have suffered too much at being without
money the last three days. It is torment, Ellis. I will not put myself in this
way again. I shall only venture my two hundred francs to-night, keeping
back seventy-five for pocket money; if I lose! allons!'

Winter then placed his arm through that of Ellis, and the two young men
proceeded together up the lane on their way to one of the most dangerous
and fashionable gambling salons in Marseilles.

Ten weeks had elapsed, since Frank had written to his agent, and to his
mother and Grace Ellingwood. To neither of these letters had he yet received
any reply. The usual time for getting an answer had expired, and
merchants who had written by the same vessel, were looking for returns.
In the meanwhile the ex-midshipman passed his time in the rounds of fashionable
amusement; and, as has been seen not a little of his time had been
passed in the fascinating halls of the goddess of chance. The suspicions
that arose to the mind of Grace Ellingwood, on reading the letter of Mrs.
Winter's agent, was correct. The young midshipman had early imbibed
even at Exeter, a taste for betting. Always supplied with money, he betted
at marbles, and at tenor-balls, planked stakes for foot-races upon the green,
and even run pony-races on the turnpike. This propensity he carefully
kept from his mother; and his influence led to the adoption of the habit of
betting among all his school-fellows who could command money. This
habit Frank carried with him into the navy. He found two or three congenial
spirits in the steerage, and before he reached Vera Cruz, he lost every
dollar of the large sum his mother had placed at his disposal. He would
bet upon the wind next day; upon a distant sail, whether a brig or a ship—
armed or merchantman; upon the next order that would be given in a gale
of wind; upon the days yet to come before getting into port, and even upon
the fact, whether the commander would come on deck first in his morning
gown or linen roundabout. Barton Ellis won most of his money.—
This young gentleman was by no means very correct in his moral feeling
and his habits were dissipated. He was of good family, but his father who
had once been rich, had become impoverished, and sent his son into the
navy to provide for him. Brought up in expensive habits and a free use of
money, Ellis felt deeply his dissipation; and found it a hard matter to
circumscribe his desires within the narrow limits of his midshipman's
pay. He therefore resorted to play, to eke out his means; but being oftener
the looser, he brought to his aid tricks and treachery; in a word, cheated.
He was not long in discovering that Winter had money and was fond
of play. He, therefore, sought to become intimate with him; and with such

success, that on the arrival of the corvette at Vera Cruz, he had transfered
a large portion of Frank's five hundred dollars to his own pocket. At
Havana, he visited with him the salons of fortune, and won much of his
money there. The rest he lost to the bank. Here he was forced to borrow
of a merchant and make a second draught on Mr. Pratt Parker. It was
in this way that, as port after port was visited, drafts came to fall so fast up-the
agent for funds. Frank, however, was not always a loser. He won a
good deal of money, but he played so much and perseveringly, that he invariably
left off a loser. His infatuation was such he could never leave the
table so long as he had a stake to lay upon the board. Such madness resulted
inevitably in rapidly emptying his purse faster than it was replenished
by his agents remittances.

After he had fought the duel at Mahon, in which Ellis assisted him as
second, Frank took lodgings in town and devoted his hours to pleasure. Ellis
as a test of friendship, after the duel swore to Frank he would resign also.
But his commodore foretold his intention by sending an officer to arrest
him and convey him on board. But Ellis, who was in a coffee house
at the time, resisted; Winter came to his aid and the party was driven off
Ellis secreted himself until the corvette sailed and then accompanied Frank
with whom he linked his fortunes, in a French brig to Marseilles. Here
they remained, given up to pleasure and play, the conscientious Ellis, being
wholly without money and dependant upon what he won of Winter, or
cheated him out off; for Frank himself, open and generous in play, never
suspected that his friend was treacherous.

At the time they now appear before the reader, tortune had been averse
to both, and Frank had just been reduced to the humiliating expediency of
sending his watch and other jewelry to a broker's. Ellis had suggested this
mode—one with which he himself had long been familiar, and as his friend
objected to making such application in person, he very cheerfully offered to
do it for him. So just at the close of the day, Frank committed to him the
jewelry and after waiting an hour impatiently for his return, had left the
cafe to meet him. He had hoped to obtain at least six or seven hundred
francs upon the articles; and his disappointment was intense on finding
Ellis brought him only half the sum—about sixty dollars for what he valued
at more than two hundred. But there was no alternative; and with this he
resolved to retrieve his losses.

In all this mad career of play, did no holy thought of Grace Ellingwood
cross his mind? Did not her warning words, her gentle advice, her affectionate
cautions; with the consciousness of her pure deep love for him, so
unworthy of it, plead in behalf of honor and virtue? Did not his conscience
pierce his heart with upbraidings for his reckless course?

Not a day passed that her image was not in his mind. He seemed to see
her by his side as he played, and to feel her gentle hand withdrawing him
from the fatal tables! But he played on! He closed his eyes—his heart!
He barred up his conscience with bars of steel and played on! He tried to
forget with her his mother; he would succeed for a time, and play on!
Then would come losses and reflection! Then regret and remorse, and
self-hatred would render his hours miserable and unendurable! He would
then fly to the wine cup! Relief—relief from his thoughts, relief from pure
memories of the good and the beautiful who loved him, he sought in the
bowl of intoxication! Such alas! was the downward course of the young
officer who had too high sense of honor to obey a superior or even acknowledge
one. Three short months since he had left the corvette, with the companionship
of Ellis, who had a certain kind of influence over him, although
he was thoroughly despised by his more noble victim, had in him, in whom
Grace felt so deep an interest, all this fearful change of character and life!

The two young men took their way together towards the Salon d'Hercule.

Winter had put his arm through that of Ellis, but rather with a haughty
feeling of condescension, than from familiarity. He had seen enough of
this young man in their latter intercourse, to know that he possessed neither
honor, truth nor integrity. He had seen with surprise that he was not
ashamed to degrade himself to flatter and pawn upon him and to play a second
part to his first so long as he held the purse strings; that he unblushingly
showed his money and offered himself like a servant to the meanest duties.
Frank, therefore, despised him; but he did not care that he should see it,
or wish to throw him off, for he felt his usefulness to him under his present
circumstances. But he inwardly resolved that as soon as the amount of his
last draft should arrive, that he would secretly quit Marseilles for Paris,
leaving him ignorant of his departure. Frank had also a deeper motive for
disliking him than the deficiences of character which he manifested. He
knew Grace Ellingwood! He had sailed once in a frigate commanded by
her father, on board which she was passenger. He had spoken to Frank of
her, of her beauty and fascinations, without being aware that he to whom
he was speaking also knew her; without suspecting how deeply interested
he was in her. He had told Frank that he loved her, and had even had the
boldness to address a note to her, declaring his passion.

`And what reply did she return you?' demanded the young lover as calmly
as he could.

`She wrote me,' answered Ellis, with a half laugh, by which he vainly
tried to conceal his chagrin and anger, `that—'

`Wrote to you!'

`Yes. Quite honored me! This was the wording of the note! Confounded
cool and civil! “Sir, as I have a large eircle of acquaintances, it is
not my wish, at present, to make any additions to it.” '

`And this was all her reply?'

`Word for word! Cool was'nt it?'

Frank could not help smiling, and saying he thought it was so. This
conversation took place only a day or two previous to their previous introduction
to the reader in the street of Marseilles. The knowledge of the fact,
that Ellis had offered himself to Grace did not by any means serve to make
Frank like him any better. Her reply to him, however, mollified him, and
led him rather to triumph than hate. At any rate he could not look upon
Frank in the light of a rival. His determination, however, to get rid of
his society was confirmed by the knowledge of this fact.

They left the gloomy shadows of the lane leading from the Quay Rue
—, one of the most spacious streets in Marseilles. It was about nine
in the evening. The numerous cafes, salons and places of amusement that
crowded this avenue, were lighted up; and crowds were constantly entering
and departing. All was gaiety and splendor. Without heeding these
temptations to participate in pleasure, the two young men kept on their
way until they came to a part of this thoroughfare, where the lights were
less numerous, and the houses more modern and elegant, separated from
each other by gardens, and adorned with colonnades, porticoes or galleries;
and having more the air of villas than hotels in the bosom of a great metropolis.
In the lofty vine-trellised wall of one of these noble mansions
was a gate-way with an arch above it, supporting a bronzed eagle volant.
A globular lantern being suspended above it from a brazen chain held in the
talons of the eagle. The lamp was globular, gave a red light, and was intended
to represent a thunderbolt, and the chain was of a zig-zag form and
represented lightning. The effect was striking and singular. It was probably
intended merely as an ornamental design, outre in its kind; but it might
very well have prefigured the fate of those who ventured to cross this lightning
guarded threshold! for the thunderbolt was not a truer arrow of destruction
than that which pierced the souls of all who entered there!

At this gate, Winter and Ellis stopped. The latter pulled a knob and the
gate was opened by an old man.

`The word, Messieurs!'

`Napoleon!' answered Winter.

`Pass!' answered the janitor, opening the gate at its full width, and immediately
closing it after them.

`Are there many gentlemen present to night?' he asked of the old man.

`But few, Monsieur. It is a saint's eve, and the city has too much gaiety
to tempt cavaliers abroad!'

`So much the better,' said Winter, addressing Ellis.

They then proceeded through an arched passage paved in Mosaics, and
handsomely ornamented with architectural mouldings and points. It contained
no furniture and echoed loudly to their two-fold tread. At its extremity,
they mounted a flight of marble steps which led to folding doors.
These were thrown open by an attendant within, and they entered a spacious
ante-room, surrounded with voluptuous divans covered with orange-colored
velvet, fringed with gold. In the centre, hung a magnificent chandelier,
which shed the light of noon-day around the apartment. Pictures
in the richest frames and of the most exquisite description, with statuary,
graced the walls. The floor, laid with the sottest carpets, gave back no
sound to the tread. In this room were two gentlemen; one asleep upon a
divan, pale and starting each instant, his fine hair dishevelled and his attire
deranged; the other was coolly walking up and down the room, in a rich
dressing gown and Turkish slippers, smoking a hookah.

Passing through this ante-room, they drew aside a curtain that hung from
the ceiling to the floor, and found themselves in a vast chamber. It was
brilliantly lighted by chandeliers and girandoles. The walls were light blue
with a border of gold, and the dome-like ceiling of the same azure tint was
studded with stars of silver. The floor was white marble. The long pointed
windows ranged on each side were draped in crimson. The furnishing
of this apartment was its most striking feature. In the centre were four
billiard-tables, of the most costly material and workmanship, at which
several gentlemen were playing. Against the walls, opposite each table,
sat a man, with a black marble table before him, piled with gold and silver.
Three other similar alcoves and tables were on the sides of this immense
ball. At each table were one or two players. Between these tables were
divans, or more properly, couches of velvet, on which reclined the spectators
of the game, or those who wished to rest themselves from the fatigue
of playing. At the end of the hall, night the door, was a dais, covered with
Turkish carpeting, and behind it upon a sort of throne, was seated a young
and beautiful woman, robed in white and crowned with flowers. She was
attended by two younger but no less lovely, who presided at an alabaster table,
covered with sparkling wines, which were handed to all who came for
them, or were borne on silver salvers to the players. No winner could leave
the hall without a ticket from the female upon the throne, for which he paid
a Napoleon; and it was her part, by her smiles, and wit, and studied charms,
to enliven the scene. At the farther extremity of the hall, underneath a
statue of Hercules, in Orange, was another dais or platform, upon which
sat a man with a long black beard; in fact, a rich Jewish broker, whose business
it was to cash drafts and notes drawn by the players. Before him
were piles of gold and bills, and by his side stood two large vases, filled to
the brim with silver coin.

Such was the interior of the Salon d' Hercule, into which the two young
Americans entered; and into which they had first obtained admittance,
through the introduction of a French officer, whom they met in Marseilles,
and whom Frank had previously seen at Constantinople. As they entered
an attendant took their hats and cloaks, and gave them a metallic number
for them, and placed velvet caps in their hands. These they put on, and
then lounged up the hall together, slowly making the tour of the tables.