Part 43 (1/2)
”Monsieur!” I said, interrupting him, ”of what are you speaking?”
”Oh!--ah! pardon me: it is an affair I was thinking of--_n'importe_. We had better return, Monsieur. It is cold. The atmosphere of this solemn place chills me.”
He said all this with an air of embarra.s.sment, as though he had been speaking his thoughts unintentionally.
Though astonished at what he had uttered, I could not press him for an explanation; but, yielding to his wish, I rose up to depart. I had lost hope. Plainly he had it not in his power to serve me.
At this moment a resource suggested itself to my mind, or rather the forlorn hope of a resource.
I communicated it to my companion.
”I have still these two hundred dollars,” said I, ”They are of no more service to me for the purchase of Aurore than if they were so many pebbles. Suppose I try to increase the amount at the gaming-table?”
”Oh, I fear it would be an idle attempt. You would lose as before.”
”That is not so certain, Monsieur. The chances at least are equal. I need not play with men of skill, like those upon the boat. Here in New Orleans there are gaming-houses, plenty of them, where _games of chance_ are carried on. These are of various kinds--as _faro, c.r.a.ps, loto_, and _roulette_. I can choose some one of these, where bets are made on the tossing of a die or the turning of a card. It is just as likely I may win as lose. What say you, Monsieur? Give me your counsel.”
”You speak truly,” replied he. ”There is a chance in the game. It offers a hope of your winning. If you lose, you will be no worse off as regards your intentions for to-morrow. If you win--”
”True, true--if I win--”
”You must not lose time, then. It is growing late. These gaming-houses should be open at this hour: no doubt, they are now in the very tide of their business. Let us find one.”
”You will go with me? Thanks, Monsieur D'Hauteville!
Thanks--_allons_!”
We hastily traversed the walk that led to the entrance of the cemetery; and, issuing from the gate, took our way back into the town.
We headed for our point of departure--the Rue Saint Louis; for I knew that in that neighbourhood lay the princ.i.p.al gambling h.e.l.ls.
It was not difficult to find them. At that period there was no concealment required in such matters. The gambling pa.s.sion among the Creoles, inherited from the original possessors of the city, was too rife among all cla.s.ses to be put down by a police. The munic.i.p.al authorities in the American quarter had taken some steps toward the suppression of this vice; but their laws had no force on the French side of Ca.n.a.l Street; and Creole police had far different ideas, as well as different instructions. In the French faubourgs gaming was not considered so hideous a crime, and the houses appropriated to it were open and avowed.
As you pa.s.sed along Rue Conti, or Saint Louis, or the Rue Bourbon, you could not fail to notice several large gilded lamps, upon which you might read ”faro” and ”c.r.a.ps”, ”loto” or ”roulette,”--odd words to the eyes of the uninitiated, but well enough understood by those whose business it was to traverse the streets of the ”First Munic.i.p.ality.”
Our hurrying stops soon brought us in front of one of these establishments, whose lamp told us in plain letters that ”faro” was played inside.
It was the first that offered; and, without hesitating a moment, I entered, followed by D'Hauteville.
We had to climb a wide stairway, at the top of which we were received by a whiskered and moustached fellow in waiting. I supposed that he was about to demand some fee for admission. I was mistaken in my conjecture. Admission was perfectly free. The purpose of this individual in staying us was to divest us of arms, for which he handed us a ticket, that we might reclaim them in going out. That he had disarmed a goodly number before our turn came, was evident from the numerous b.u.t.ts of pistols, hafts of bowie-knives, and handles of daggers, that protruded from the pigeon-holes of a shelf-like structure standing in one corner of the pa.s.sage.
The whole proceeding reminded me of the scenes I had often witnessed-- the surrender of canes, umbrellas, and parasols, on entering a picture-gallery or a museum. No doubt it was a necessary precaution-- the non-observance of which would have led to many a scene of blood over the gaming-table.
We yielded up our weapons--I a pair of pistols, and my companion a small silver dagger. These were ticketed, duplicates delivered to us, and we were allowed to pa.s.s on into the ”_saloon_.”
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.
ON GAMES AND GAMBLING.
The pa.s.sion of gaming is universal amongst men. Every nation indulges in it to a greater or less extent. Every nation, civilised or savage, has its game, from whist and cribbage at Almacks to ”chuck-a-luck” and ”poke-stick” upon the prairies.
Moral England fancies herself clear of the stain. Her gossiping traveller rarely fails to fling a stone at the foreigner on this head.