The Gaming Table. Andrew Steinmetz
can be little doubt that it is founded on fact; and the conduct of the English wife, curiously enough, bears a striking resemblance to that of Draupadi in the Indian narrative.
A Captain Disbrowe of the king's body-guard lost a large sum of money to a notorious debauchee, a gambler and bully, named Sir Paul Parravicin. The latter had made an offensive allusion to the wife of Captain Disbrowe, after winning his money; and then, picking up the dice-box, and spreading a large heap of gold on the table, he said to the officer who anxiously watched his movements:—'I mentioned your wife, Captain Disbrowe, not with any intention of giving you offence, but to show you that, although you have lost your money, you have still a valuable stake left.'
'I do not understand you, Sir Paul,' returned Disbrowe, with a look of indignant surprise.
'To be plain, then,' replied Parravicin, 'I have won from you two hundred pounds—all you possess. You are a ruined man, and as such, will run any hazard to retrieve your losses. I give you a last chance. I will stake all my winnings—nay, double the amount—against your wife. You have a key of the house you inhabit, by which you admit yourself at all hours; so at least I am informed. If I win, that key shall be mine. I will take my chance of the rest. Do you understand me now?'
'I do,' replied the young man, with concentrated fury. 'I understand that you are a villain. You have robbed me of my money, and would rob me of my honour.'
'These are harsh words, sir,' replied the knight calmly; 'but let them pass. We will play first, and fight afterwards. But you refuse my challenge?'
'It is false!' replied Disbrowe, fiercely, 'I accept it.' And producing a key, he threw it on the table. 'My life is, in truth, set on the die,' he added, with a desperate look; 'for if I lose, I will not survive my shame.'
'You will not forget our terms,' observed Parravicin. 'I am to be your representative to-night. You can return home to-morrow.'
'Throw, sir—throw,' cried the young man, fiercely.
'Pardon me,' replied the knight; 'the first cast is with you. A single main decides it.'
'Be it so,' returned Disbrowe, seizing the bow. And as he shook the dice with a frenzied air, the bystanders drew near the table to watch the result.
'Twelve!' cried Disbrowe, as he removed the box. 'My honour is saved! My fortune retrieved—Huzza!'
'Not so fast,' returned Parravicin, shaking the box in his turn. 'You were a little hasty,' he added, uncovering the dice. 'I am twelve too. We must throw again.'
'This is to decide,' cried the young officer, rattling the dice—'Six!'
Parravicin smiled, took the box, and threw TEN.
'Perdition!' ejaculated Disbrowe, striking his brow with his clenched hand. 'What devil tempted me to my undoing? … My wife trusted to this profligate! … Horror! It must not be!'
'It is too late to retract,' replied Parravicin, taking up the key, and turning with a triumphant look to his friends.
Disbrowe noticed the smile, and, stung beyond endurance, drew his sword, and called to the knight to defend himself. In an instant passes were exchanged. But the conflict was brief. Fortune, as before, declared herself in favour of Parravicin. He disarmed his assailant, who rushed out of the room, uttering the wildest ejaculations of rage and despair.
* * * * * * The winner of the key proceeded at once to use. He gained admittance to the captain's house, and found his way to the chamber of his wife, who was then in bed. At first mistaken for her husband Parravicin heard words of tender reproach for his lateness; and then, declaring himself, he belied her husband, stating that he was false to her, and had surrendered her to him.
At this announcement Mrs. Disbrowe uttered a loud scream, and fell back in the bed. Parravicin waited for a moment; but not hearing her move, brought the lamp to see what was the matter. She had fainted, and was lying across the pillow, with her night-dress partly open, so as to expose her neck and shoulders. The knight was at first ravished with her beauty; but his countenance suddenly fell, and an expression of horror and alarm took possession of it. He appeared rooted to the spot, and instead of attempting to render her any assistance, remained with his gaze fixed upon her neck. Rousing himself at length, he rushed out of the room, hurried down-stairs, and without pausing for a moment, threw open the street door. As he issued from it his throat was forcibly griped, and the point of a sword was placed at his breast.
It was the desperate husband, who was waiting to avenge his wife's honour.
'You are in my power, villain,' cried Disbrowe, 'and shall not escape my vengeance.'
'You are already avenged,' replied Parravicin, shaking off his assailant—'YOUR WIFE HAS THE PLAGUE.'
The profligate had been scared away by the sight of the 'plague spot' on the neck of the unfortunate lady.
The husband entered and found his way to his wife's chamber. Instantaneous explanations ensued. 'He told me you were false—that you loved another—and had abandoned me,' exclaimed the frantic wife.
'He lied!' shouted Disbrowe, in a voice of uncontrollable fury. 'It is true that, in a moment of frenzy, I was tempted to set you—yes, YOU, Margaret—against all I had lost at play, and was compelled to yield up the key of my house to the winner. But I have never been faithless to you—never.'
'Faithless or not,' replied his wife bitterly, 'it is plain you value me less than play, or you would not have acted thus.'
'Reproach me not, Margaret,' replied Disbrowe. 'I would give worlds to undo what I have done.'
'Who shall guard me against the recurrence of such conduct?' said Mrs. Disbrowe, coldly. 'But you have not yet informed me how I was saved!'
Disbrowe averted his head.
'What mean you?' she cried, seizing his arm. 'What has happened? Do not keep me in suspense? Were you my preserver?'
'Your preserver was the plague,' rejoined Disbrowe, mournfully.
The unfortunate lady then, for the first time, perceived that she was attacked by the pestilence, and a long and dreadful pause ensued, broken only by exclamations of anguish from both.
'Disbrowe!' cried Margaret at length, raising herself in bed, 'you have deeply, irrecoverably injured me. But promise me one thing.'
'I swear to do whatever you may desire,' he replied.
'I know not, after what I have heard, whether you have courage for the deed,' she continued. 'But I would have you kill this man.'
'I will do it,' replied Disbrowe.
'Nothing but his blood can wipe out the wrong he has done me,' she rejoined. 'Challenge him to a duel—a mortal duel. If he survives, by my soul, I will give myself to him.'
'Margaret!' exclaimed Disbrowe.
'I swear it,' she rejoined,' and you know my passionate nature too well to doubt I will keep my word.'
'But you have the plague!'
'What does that matter? I may recover.'
'Not so,' muttered Disbrowe. 'If I fall, I will take care you do not recover. … I will fight him to-morrow,' he added aloud.
About noon on the following day Disbrowe proceeded to the Smyrna Coffee-house, where, as he expected, he found Parravicin and his companions. The knight instantly advanced towards him, and laying aside for the moment his reckless air, inquired, with a look of commiseration, after his wife.
'She is better,' replied Disbrowe, fiercely. 'I am come to settle accounts with you.'
'I thought they were settled long ago,' returned Parravicin, instantly resuming his wonted manner. 'But I am glad to find you consider the debt unpaid.'
Disbrowe lifted the cane he held in his hand, and struck the knight with it forcibly on the shoulder. 'Be that my answer,' he said.
'I will have your life first, and your wife afterwards,' replied