Скорбь сатаны / The sorrows of Satan. Уровень 4. Мария Корелли

      “I really propose less than one hair of your head,” he continued, “because the hair is something, and the soul is nothing! Come! Will you risk that non-existent quantity for the chance of winning a thousand pounds?”

      The Viscount turned upon us,

      “Done!” he exclaimed; whereupon the party sat down.

      The game was brief, and in its rapid excitement, almost breathless. Lucio rose, the winner. He smiled as he pointed to the counter which had represented Viscount Lynton’s soul.

      “I have won!” he said quietly. “But you owe me nothing, my dear Viscount, inasmuch as you risked nothing! We played this game simply for fun. If souls had any existence of course I should claim yours!” He laughed. “Good-night! Tempest and I will give you, your full revenge tomorrow, and you will probably have the victory!”

      Viscount Lynton shook Lucio’s hand heartily.

      “You are an awfully good fellow!” he said, speaking hurriedly. “And I assure you seriously if I had a soul I should be very glad to part with it for a thousand pounds at the present moment. But I feel convinced I shall win tomorrow!”

      “I am sure you will!” returned Lucio affably.

      The Viscount smiled and left the club. As soon as the door had closed behind him, several of the gamesters exchanged sententious nods and glances.

      “Ruined!” said one of them.

      “His gambling debts are more than he can ever pay,” added another.

      These remarks were made indifferently, as though one should talk of the weather, no sympathy was expressed. But I was not utterly vile. I inwardly resolved to write to Viscount Lynton that very evening, and tell him to consider his debt to me cancelled, as I should refuse to claim it. I met Lucio’s gaze fixed steadily upon me. He smiled, and in a few minutes we had left the club, and were out in the cold night air under a heaven of frostily sparkling stars. My companion laid his hand on my shoulder.

      “Tempest, if you are going to be kind-hearted or sympathetic to undeserving rascals, I shall leave you!” he said, with a curious mixture of satire and seriousness in his voice. “I see you want to cancel Lynton’s debt, you are a fool. He is a born scoundrel, why should you compassionate him? From the time he first went to college till now, he has been doing nothing but live a life of degraded sensuality. He is a worthless rake, worse than a dog!”