The Three Brides, Love in a Cottage, and Other Tales

The Game of Chance

Chapter I

At nightfall, on an autumnal evening, when the stars were just beginning to twinkle overhead like diamonds on a canopy of azure, two young men were standing together, engaged in conversation on the steps of the Black Eagle, a fashionable hotel in one of the principal streets of the gay and celebrated city of Vienna. One of them wore the rich uniform of an Austrian hussar; the other was clad in the civic costume of a gentleman.

“So, all is completed at the ministry of war, except the signature of the commission, and the payment of the purchase money?” said the soldier.

“Exactly so.”

“And to-morrow, then,” continued the hussar, “I am to congratulate you on the command of a company, and salute you as Captain Ernest Walstein.”

The last speaker was Captain Christian Steinfort, an officer who had seen some two years’ service.

“Ah! my boy!” continued he, twirling his jet black mustache, “your uniform will be a passport to the smiles of the fair. But you already seem to have made your way to the good graces of Madame Von Berlingen, the rich widow who resides at this hotel.”

“Bah! she is forty,” answered Ernest, carelessly.

“But in fine preservation, and a beauty for all that,” said Captain Steinfort. “The Baron Von Dangerfeld was desperately in love with her; but within a few days, the widow seems rather to have cut him. You are the happy man, after all.”

“Undeceive yourself, my dear Christian,” said Ernest, blushing; “I have only flirted with the handsome widow. My hand is already engaged to a charming girl, Meena Altenburg, the playmate of my infancy, adopted and brought up by my good father. I am to marry her as soon as I get my company.”

“And what is to support you, Captain Ernest?”

“My pay, of course, and the income of the moderate dowry my father, who is well enough off for a farmer, proposes to give his favorite. So, you see my lot in life is settled.”

“Precisely so,” replied the captain. “But since you are free this evening, I engage you to pass it with me. Have you got any money about you?”

“A good deal. Besides the price of my company, which is safely stowed away in bank notes in this breast pocket, I have a handful of ducats about me, with which I propose purchasing some trinkets for my bride. But I have a gold piece or two that I can spare, if——”

“Poh! poh! I’m well enough provided,” answered the captain. “You know this is pay day. Come along.”

“But whither?”

“You shall see.”

With these words, the captain thrust his arm within that of his companion, and the pair walked off at a rapid rate. After passing through several streets, Steinfort halted, and rang at the door of a stately mansion. It was opened by a servant in handsome livery, and the young gentlemen entered and went up stairs.

Walstein soon found himself in a scene very different from any of which he had ever dreamed of in his rustic and simple life upon his father’s farm. Around a large table, covered with cloth, were seated more than a dozen persons of different ages, all so intent upon what was going forward, that the captain and his friend took their seats unnoticed. At the head of the table sat a man in a gray wig, with a pair of green spectacles upon his nose, before whom lay a pile of gold, and who was busily engaged in paying and receiving money, and in giving an impetus to a small ivory ball, which spun at intervals its appointed course. Walstein soon learned that this was a rouge-et-noir table. The gentleman in the gray wig was the banker.

“Make your game, gentlemen,” said this individual, “while the ball spins. Your luck’s as good as mine. It’s all luck, gentlemen, at rouge-et-noir. Rouge-et-noir, gentlemen, the finest in all the world. Black wins; it’s yours, sir—twenty ducats, and you’ve doubled it. Make your game—black or red.”

“Try your fortune, Ernest,” said the captain. Ernest mechanically put down a few ducats on the red.

“Red wins,” said the banker, in the same monotonous tone. “Make your game, gentlemen, while the ball rolls.”

Why need we follow the fortunes of Ernest on this fatal evening, as he yielded, step by step, to the seduction to which he was now exposed for the first time in his life? Long after Steinfort left the gambling house, he continued to play. His luck turned. He had soon lost all his winnings, and the money set apart for his bridal presents. Still the ball rolled, and he continued to stake. He had broken the package of bank notes, the money he had received from his father for the purchase of his commission; and though he saw bill after bill swept away before his eyes, he continued to play, in the desperate hope of winning back his losses. At length his last ducat was gone. He rose and left the room, the last words ringing in his ears being,—

“Make your game, gentlemen, while the ball rolls.”

Despairing and heart-stricken, the young man sought his hotel and his chamber. On the staircase he encountered Madame Von Berlingen, but he saw her not. His eyes were glazed. He did not notice or return her salutation. He threw himself upon his bed without undressing, and towards morning fell into an unrefreshing and dream-peopled slumber.

When he arose, late the next day, he looked at himself in the glass, but scarcely recognized his own face, so changed was he by the mental agonies he had undergone. When he had paid some little attention to his toilet, he received a message from Madame Von Berlingen, requesting the favor of an interview in her apartments. He mechanically obeyed the summons, though ill fitted to sustain a conversation with a lady.

The widow requested him to be seated.

“Mr. Walstein,” said she, with a smile, “you are growing very ungallant. I met you last night upon the staircase; but though I spoke to you, you had not a word or a nod for me.”

“Last night, madam,” answered the unfortunate young man, “I was beside myself. O madam, if you knew all!”

“I do know all,” replied the lady.

“What! that I had been gambling—that I had thrown away—yes, those are the words—every ducat of the money my poor father furnished me with to purchase my commission?”

“Yes, I know all that. But the loss is not irreparable.”

“Pardon me, madam. My father, though reputed wealthy, is unable to furnish me with a similar sum, even if I were base enough to accept it at his hands.”

“But if some friend were to step forward.”

“Alas! I know none.”

“Mr. Walstein,” said the lady, “I am rich. A loan of the requisite amount would not affect me in the least.”

“O madam!” cried the young man, “if you would indeed save me by such generosity, you would be an angel of mercy.”

“What is the amount of your loss?” inquired the lady, calmly, as she unlocked her desk.

“Three thousand ducats,” answered Ernest. “But I can give you no security for the payment.”

“Your note of hand is sufficient,” said the lady, handing the young man a package of notes. “Please to count those, and see if the sum is correct. Here are writing materials.”

Ernest did as he was bid—counted the money, and then sat down at the desk.

“Write at my dictation,” said the lady.

Ernest took up a pen and commenced.

“The date,” said the lady.

Ernest wrote it.

“Received of Anna Von Berlingen the sum of three thousand ducats.”

Ernest wrote and repeated, “three thousand ducats.”

“In consideration whereof, I promise to marry the aforesaid Anna Von Berlingen.”

“To marry you?” exclaimed Ernest.

“Ay—to marry me!” said the lady. “Am I deformed—am I ugly—am I poor?”

“I cannot do it—you know not the reason that induces me to refuse.”

“Then go home to your father and confess your guilt.”

Ernest reflected a few moments. He could not go home to his father with the frightful tale. It was a question between suicide and marriage—he signed the paper.

“Now then, baron,” said the widow to herself, as she carefully secured the promise, “you cannot say that you broke the heart of Anna by your cruelty. Take the money, Ernest,” she added aloud; “go and purchase your commission.”

Ernest obeyed. His dreams of yesterday morning had all been dissipated by his own act; he felt a degraded and broken-spirited criminal. He had sold himself for gold.

Chapter II

“Here comes Captain Ernest!” cried a youthful voice. And a beautiful, blue-eyed girl of nineteen stood at the garden gate of a pretty farm house, watching the approach of a horseman, who, gayly attired in a hussar uniform, was galloping up the road. At her shout of delight, a sturdy old gray-haired man came forth and stood beside her.

“Captain Ernest!” he repeated. “That sounds well. When I was of his age, I only carried a musket in the ranks. I never dreamed then that a son of mine could ever aspire to the epaulet.”

Ernest, waving his hand to Meena Altenburg and his father, rode past them to the stable, where he left his horse. He then rushed into the farm house where his father met him.

“What is the meaning of this, boy?” he said. “How wild and haggard you look! And you have avoided Meena—and this, too, upon your wedding day.”

“My wedding day—O Heavens! I shall die,” said the young man, sinking into a seat.

As soon as he could collect himself, he told his father that he could not marry Meena, and the reason—he had pledged himself to another. The old man, who was the soul of honor, burst forth in violent imprecations, and drove him from his presence. As he left the house, the unfortunate young man encountered a person whom he at once recognized as the Baron Von Dangerfeld, the reputed suitor of Madame Von Berlingen.

“I have been looking for you, Captain Walstein,” said the baron, sternly.

“And you have found me,” answered the young man, shortly.

“Yes—and I thank Heaven you wear that uniform. It entitles you to meet a German noble, and answer for your conduct.”

“I am answerable for my conduct to no living man,” retorted Ernest.

“You wear a sword.”

“Yes.”

“Very well—if you refuse to give satisfaction for the injury you have done me, in robbing me of my mistress, I will proclaim you a coward in the presence of the regiment upon parade.”

“O, make yourself easy on that score, baron,” answered Ernest. “Life is of too little worth for me to think of shielding it. If you will step with me into the shadow of yonder grove, we can soon regulate our accounts.”

The two men walked silently to the appointed spot, and without any preliminary, drew their swords and engaged in combat. The struggle was not of long duration, for Ernest wounded his adversary in the sword arm, and disarmed him.

“Are you satisfied?” he asked.

“I must be so for the present,” replied the baron, sullenly. “When I recover, you shall hear from me again.”

“As you please,” said Ernest, coldly. “In the mean time, suffer me to bind up your arm.”

The young man bandaged the wound of his adversary, and as he faltered from the loss of blood, led him towards the farm house. As they approached it, two ladies advanced to meet them—one of them was Meena, the other Madame Von Berlingen.

“Dangerfeld wounded!” cried the latter, bursting into tears—“O, I have been the cause of this: forgive me—forgive me, Dangerfeld, or you will kill me.”

“You forget, madame, that you belong to another.”

“I am yours only—I can never love another. Nor does the person you allude to,” added the lady, turning to Ernest, “cherish any attachment to me.”

“My only feeling for you, madame,” said Ernest, with meaning, “would be gratitude, were a certain paper destroyed.”

“What is the meaning of all this?” asked the father of Ernest, coming forward.

“It means,” said Ernest, tearing to atoms the promissory note he received from the widow’s hands, “that I had very ugly dreams last night—I dreamed that I played at rouge-et-noir, and lost all the money you gave me to purchase my commission with, and then that I made up the loss by promising——”

“Hush!” said the widow, laying her finger on her lips.

“Then it was all a dream,” said the old man.

“Look at my uniform,” replied the captain.

“And what did you mean in the story you told me just now?” asked the old man.

“Forget it, father,” said Ernest. “Dear Meena, look up, my love. It is our wedding day; and if you do but smile, I’m the happiest dog that wears a sabre and a doliman.”

That very day two weddings were celebrated in the farm house, those of Captain Ernest Walstein with the Fraulein Meena Altenburg, and Baron Von Dangerfeld with the yet beautiful and wealthy widow. The captain never tried his luck again at any GAME OF CHANCE.