The Governor's A.D.C. had presented Bond and Leiter with membership cards, and after they had had coffee and a stinger at the bar they separated and went to the tables.
Largo4 was playing chemin de fer . He had a fat pile of hundred-dollar plaques5 in front of him and half a dozen of the big yellow thousand-dollar biscuits. Domino Vitali sat behind him chain-smoking and watching the play. Bond observed the game from a distance. Largo was playing expansively, bancoing whenever he could and letting his own banks run. He was winning steadily6, but with excellent manners, and by the way people joked with him and applauded his coups7 he was obviously a favorite in the Casino. Domino, in black with a square-cut neckline and with one large diamond on a thin chain at her throat, was looking morose8 and bored. The woman on Largo's right, having bancoed him three times and lost, got up and left the table. Bond went quickly across the room and slid into the empty place. It was a bank of eight hundred dollars-the round sum being due to Largo making up the cagnotte after each play.
It is good for the banker when he has got past the third banco. It often means the bank is going to run. Bond knew this perfectly9 well. He was also painfully aware that his total capital was only one thousand dollars. But the fact that everyone was so nervous of Largo's luck made him bold. And, after all, the table has no memory. Luck, he told himself, is strictly10 for the birds. He said, ?Banco.?
?Ah, my good friend Mr. Bond.? Largo held out a hand. ?Now we have the big money coming to the table. Perhaps I should pass the bank. The English know how to play at railway trains. But still?- he smiled charmingly-?if I have to lose I would certainly like to lose to Mr. Bond.?
The big brown hand gave the shoe a soft slap. Largo eased out the pink tongue of playing card and moved it across the baize to Bond. He took one for himself and then pressed out one more for each of them. Bond picked up his first card and flicked11 it face up into the middle of the table. It was a nine, the nine of diamonds. Bond glanced sideways at Largo. He said, ?That is always a good start-so good that I will also face my second card.? He casually12 flicked it out to join the nine. It turned over in mid-air and fell besides the nine. It was a glorious ten, the ten of spades. Unless Largo's two cards also added up to nine or nineteen, Bond had won.
Largo laughed, but the laugh had a hard edge to it. ?You certainly make me try,? he said gaily13. He threw his cards to follow Bond's. They were the eight of hearts and the king of clubs. Largo had lost by a pip-two naturals, but one just better than the other, the crudest way to lose. Largo laughed hugely. ?Somebody had to be second,? he said to the table at large. ?What did I say? The English can pull what they like out of the shoe.?
The croupier pushed the chips across to Bond. Bond made a small pile of them. He gestured at the heap in front of Largo: ?So, it seems, can the Italians. I told you this afternoon we should go into partnership14.?
Largo laughed delightedly. ?Well, let's just try once again. Put in what you have won and I will banco it in partnership with Mr. Snow on your right. Yes, Mr. Snow??
Mr. Snow, a tough-looking European who, Bond remembered, was one of the shareholders15, agreed. Bond put in the eight hundred and they each put in four against him. Bond won again, this time with a six against a five for the table-once more by one point.
Largo shook his head mournfully. ?Now indeed we have seen the writing on the wall. Mr. Snow, you will have to continue alone. This Mr. Bond has green fingers against me, I surrender.?
Now Largo was smiling only with his mouth. Mr. Snow suivied and pushed forward sixteen hundred dollars to cover Bond's stake. Bond thought: I have made sixteen hundred dollars in two coups, over five hundred pounds. And it would be fun to pass the bank and for the bank to go down on the next hand. He withdrew his stake and said, ? La main passe .? There was a buzz of comment. Largo said dramatically, ?Don't do it to me! Don't tell me the bank's going to go down on the next hand! If it does I shoot myself. Okay, okay, I will buy Mr. Bond's bank and we will see.? He threw some plaques out on to the table-sixteen hundred dollars' worth.
And Bond heard his own voice say banco! He was bancoing his own bank-telling Largo that he had done it to him once, then twice, and now he was going to do it, inevitably16, again!
Largo turned round to face Bond. Smiling with his mouth, he narrowed his eyes and looked carefully, with a new curiosity, at Bond's face. He said quietly, ?But you are hunting me, my dear fellow. You are pursuing me. What is this? Vendetta17??
Bond thought: I will see if an association of words does something to him. He said, ?When I came to the table I saw a spectre.? He said the word casually, with no hint at double meaning.
The smile came off Largo's face as if he had been slapped. It was at once switched on again, but now the whole face was tense, strained, and the eyes had gone watchful18 and very hard. His tongue came out and touched his lips. ?Really? What do you mean??
Bond said lightly, ?The spectre of defeat. I thought your luck was on the turn. Perhaps I was wrong.? He gestured at the shoe. ?Let's see.?
The table had gone quiet. The players and spectators felt that a tension had come between these two men. Suddenly there was the smell of enmity where before there had been only jokes. A glove had been thrown down, by the Englishman. Was it about the girl? Probably. The crowd licked its lips.
Largo laughed sharply. He stitched gaiety and bravado19 back on his face. ?Aha!? His voice was boisterous20 again. ?My friend wishes to put the evil eye upon my cards. We have a way to deal with that where I come from.? He lifted a hand, and with only the first and little fingers outstretched in a fork, he prodded21 once, like a snake striking toward Bond's face. To the crowd it was a playful piece of theater, but Bond, within the strong aura of the man's animal magnetism22, felt the ill temper, the malevolence23 behind the old Mafia gesture.
Bond laughed good-naturedly. ?That certainly put the hex on me. But what did it do to the cards? Come on, your spectre against my spectre!?
Again the look of doubt came over Largo's face. Why again the use of this word? He gave the shoe a hefty slap. ?All right, my friend. We are wrestling the best of three falls. Here comes the third.?
Quickly his first two fingers licked out the four cards. The table had hushed. Bond faced his pair inside his hand. He had a total of five-a ten of clubs and a five of hearts. Five is a marginal number. One can either draw or not. Bond folded the cards face down on the table. He said, with the confident look of a man who has a six or a seven, ?No card, thank you.?
Largo's eyes narrowed as he tried to read Bond's face. He turned up his cards, flicked them into the middle of the table with a gesture of disgust. He also had a count of five. Now what was he to do? Draw or not draw? He looked again at the quiet smile of confidence on Bond's face-and drew. It was a nine, the nine of spades. By drawing another card instead of standing24 on his five and equaling Bond, he had drawn25 and now had a four to Bond's five.
Impassively Bond turned up his cards. He said, ?I'm afraid you should have killed the evil eye in the pack, not in me.?
There was a buzz of comment round the table. ?But if the Italian had stood on his five . . .? ?I always draw on a five.? ?I never do.? ?It was bad luck.? ?No, it was bad play.?
Now it was an effort for Largo to keep the snarl26 off his face. But he managed it, the forced smile lost its twist, the balled fists relaxed. He took a deep breath and held out his hand to Bond. Bond took it, folding his thumb inside his palm just in case Largo might give him a bone-crusher with his vast machine tool of a hand. But it was a firm grasp and no more. Largo said, ?Now I must wait for the shoe to come round again. You have taken all my winnings. I have a hard evening's work ahead of me just when I was going to take my niece for a drink and a dance.? He turned to Domino. ?My dear, I don't think you know Mr. Bond, except on the telephone. I'm afraid he has upset my plans. You must find someone else to squire27 you.?
Bond said, ?How do you do. Didn't we meet in the tobacconist's this morning??
The girl screwed up her eyes. She said indifferently, ?Yes? It is possible. I have such a bad memory for faces.?
Bond said, ?Well, could I give you a drink? I can just afford even a Nassau drink now, thanks to the generosity28 of Mr. Largo. And I have finished here. This sort of thing can't last. I mustn't press my luck.?
The girl got up. She said ungraciously, ?If you have nothing better to do.? She turned to Largo: ?Emilio, perhaps if I take this Mr. Bond away, your luck will turn again. I will be in the supper room having caviar and champagne29. We must try and get as much of your funds as we can back in the family.?
Largo laughed. His spirits had returned. He said, ?You see, Mr. Bond, you are out of the frying pan into the fire. In Dominetta's hands you may not fare so well as in mine. See you later, my dear fellow. I must now get back to the salt mines where you have consigned30 me.?
Bond said, ?Well, thanks for the game. I will order champagne and caviar for three. My spectre also deserves his reward.? Wondering again whether the shadow that flickered31 in Largo's eyes at the word had more significance than Italian superstition32, he got up and followed the girl between the crowded tables to the supper room. Domino made for a shadowed table in the farthest corner of the room. Walking behind her, Bond had noticed for the first time she had the smallest trace of a limp. He found it endearing, a touch of childish sweetness beneath the authority and blatant33 sex appeal of a girl to whom he had been inclined to award that highest, but toughest, French title-a courtisane de marque .
When the Clicquot rosé and fifty dollars' worth of Beluga caviar came-anything less, he had commented to her, would be no more than a spoonful-he asked her about the limp. ?Did you hurt yourself swimming today??
She looked at him gravely. ?No. I have one leg an inch shorter than the other. Does it displease34 you??
?No. It's pretty. It makes you something of a child.? ?Instead of a hard old kept woman. Yes?? Her eyes challenged him.
?Is that how you see yourself??
?It's rather obvious isn't it? Anyway, it's what everyone in Nassau thinks.? She looked him squarely in the eyes, but with a touch of pleading.
?Nobody's told me that. Anyway, I make up my own mind about men and women. What's the good of other people's opinions? Animals don't consult each other about other animals. They look and sniff35 and feel. In love and hate, and everything in between, those are the only tests that matter. But people are unsure of their own instincts. They want reassurance36. So they ask someone else whether they should like a particular person or not. And as the world loves bad news, they nearly always get a bad answer-or at least a qualified37 one. Would you like to know what I think of you??
She smiled. ?Every woman likes to hear about herself. Tell me, but make it sound true, otherwise I shall stop listening.?
?I think you're a young girl, younger than you pretend to be, younger than you dress. I think you were carefully brought up, in a red-carpet sort of way, and then the red carpet was suddenly jerked away from under your feet and you were thrown more or less into the street. So you picked yourself up and started to work your own way back to the red carpet you had got used to. You were probably fairly ruthless about it. You had to be. You only had a woman's weapons and you probably used them pretty coolly. I expect you used your body. It would be a wonderful asset. But in using it to get what you wanted, your sensibilities had to be put aside. I don't expect they're very far underground. They certainly haven't atrophied38. They've just lost their voice because you wouldn't listen to them. You couldn't afford to listen to them if you were to get back on that red carpet and have the things you wanted. And now you've got the things.? Bond touched the hand that lay on the banquette between them. ?And perhaps you've almost had enough of them.? He laughed. ?But I mustn't get too serious. Now about the smaller things. You know all about them, but just for the record, you're beautiful, sexy, provocative39, independent, self-willed, quick-tempered, and cruel.? She looked at him thoughtfully. ?There's nothing very clever about all that. I told you most of it. You know something about Italian women. But why do you say I'm cruel??
?If I was gambling and I took a knock like Largo did and I had my woman, a woman, sitting near me watching, and she didn't give me one word of comfort or encouragement I would say she was being cruel. Men don't like failing in front of their women.?
She said impatiently, ?I've had to sit there too often and watch him show off. I wanted you to win. I cannot pretend. You didn't mention my only virtue40. It's honesty. I love to the hilt and I hate to the hilt. At the present time, with Emilio, I am halfway41. Where we were lovers, we are now good friends who understand each other. When I told you he was my guardian42, I was telling a white lie. I am his kept woman. I am a bird in a gilded43 cage. I am fed up with my cage and tired of my bargain.? She looked at Bond defensively. ?Yes, it is cruel for Emilio. But it is also human. You can buy the outside of the body, but you cannot buy what is inside-what people call the heart and the soul. But Emilio knows that. He wants women for use. Not for love. He has had thousands in this way. He knows where we both stand. He is realistic. But it is becoming more difficult to keep to my bargain-to, to, let's call it sing for my supper.?
She stopped abruptly44. She said, ?Give me some more champagne. All this silly talking has made me thirsty. And I would like a packet of Players?-she laughed ?-Please, as they say in the advertisements. I am fed up with just smoking smoke. I need my Hero.? Bond bought a packet from the cigarette girl. He said, ?What's that about a hero??
She had entirely45 changed. Her bitterness had gone, and the lines of strain on her face. She had softened46. She was suddenly a girl out for the evening. ?Ah, you don't know! My one true love! The man of my dreams. The sailor on the front of the packet of Players. You have never thought about him as I have.? She came closer to him on the banquette and held the packet under his eyes. ?You don't understand the romance of this wonderful picture-one of the great masterpieces of the world. This man?-she pointed47-?was the first man I ever sinned with. I took him into the woods, I loved him in the dormitory, I spent nearly all my pocket money on him. In exchange he introduced me to the great world outside the Cheltenham Ladies College. He grew me up. He put me at ease with boys of my own age. He kept me company when I was lonely or afraid of being young. He encouraged me, gave me assurance. Have you never thought of the romance behind this picture? You see nothing, yet the whole of England is there! Listen.? She took his arm eagerly. ?This is the story of Hero, the name on his cap badge. At first he was a young man, a powder monkey or whatever they called it, in that sailing ship behind his right ear. It was a hard time for him. Weevils in the biscuits, hit with marlinspikes and ropes' ends and things, sent up aloft to the top of all that rigging where the flag flies. But he persevered48. He began to grow a mustache. He was fair-haired and rather too pretty.? She giggled49. ?He may even have had to fight for his virtue or whatever men call it, among all those hammocks. But you can see from his face-that line of concentration between his eyes-and from his fine head, that he was a man to get on.? She paused and swallowed a glass of champagne. The dimples were now deep holes in her cheeks. ?Are you listening to me? You are not bored having to listen about my hero??
?I'm only jealous. Go on.?
?So he went all over the world-to India, China, Japan, America. He had many girls and many fights with cutlasses and fists. He wrote home regularly-to his mother and to a married sister who lived at Dover. They wanted him to come home and meet a nice girl and get married. But he wouldn't. You see, he was keeping himself for a dream girl who looked rather like me. And then?-she laughed- ?the first steamships50 came in and he was transferred to an ironclad-that's the picture of it on the right. And by now he was a bosun, whatever that is, and very important. And he saved up from his pay and instead of going out fighting and having girls he grew that lovely beard, to make himself look older and more important, and he set to with a needle and colored threads to make that picture of himself. You can see how well he did it-his first windjammer and his last ironclad with the lifebuoy as a frame. He only finished it when he decided51 to leave the Navy. He didn't really like steamships. In the prime of life, don't you agree? And even then he ran out of gold thread to finish the rope round the lifebuoy, so he just had to tail it off. There, you can see on the right where the rope crosses the blue line. So he came back home on a beautiful golden evening after a wonderful life in the Navy and it was so sad and beautiful and romantic that he decided that he would put the beautiful evening into another picture. So he bought a pub at Bristol with his savings53 and in the mornings before the pub opened he worked away until he had finished and there you can see the little sailing ship that brought him home from Suez with his duffel bag full of silks and seashells and souvenirs carved out of wood. And that's the Needles Lighthouse beckoning54 him in to harbor on that beautiful calm evening. Mark you?-she frowned-?I don't like that sort of bonnet55 thing he's wearing for a hat, and I'd have liked him to have put `H.M.S.' before the `Hero,' but you can see that would have made it lopsided and he wouldn't have been able to get all the `Hero' in. But you must admit it's the most terrifically romantic picture. I cut it off my first packet, when I smoked one in the lavatory56 and felt terribly sick, and kept it until it fell to pieces. Then I cut off a fresh one. I carried him with me always until things went wrong and I had to go back to Italy. Then I couldn't afford Players. They're too expensive in Italy and I had to smoke things called Nazionales.? Bond wanted to keep her mood. He said, ?But what happened to the Hero's pictures? How did the cigarette people get hold of them??
?Oh, well, you see one day a man with a stovepipe hat and a frock coat came into the Hero's pub with two small boys. Here.? She held the packet sideways. ?Those are the ones, `John Player & Sons.' You see, it says that their Successors run the business now. Well they had one of the first motor cars, a Rolls Royce, and it had broken down outside the Hero's pub. The man in the stovepipe hat didn't drink, of course-those sort of people didn't, not the respectable merchants who lived near Bristol. So he asked for ginger57 beer and bread and cheese while his chauffeur58 mended the car. And the hero got it for them. And Mr. John Player and the boys all admired the two wonderful tapestry59 pictures hanging on the wall of the pub. Now this Mr. Player was in the tobacco and snuff business and cigarettes had just been invented and he wanted to start making them. But he couldn't for the life of him know what to call them or what sort of a picture to put on the packet. And he suddenly had a wonderful idea. When he got back to the factory he talked to his manager and the manager came along to the pub and saw the Hero and offered him a hundred pounds to let his two pictures be copied for the cigarette packet. And the Hero didn't mind and anyway he wanted just exactly a hundred pounds to get married on.? She paused. Her eyes were far away. ?She was very nice, by the way, only thirty and a good plain cook and her young body kept him warm in bed until he died many years later. And she bore him two children, a boy and a girl. And the boy went into the Navy like his father. Well, anyway, Mr. Player wanted to have the Hero in the lifebuoy on one side of the packet and the beautiful evening on the other. But the manager pointed out that that would leave no room for all this?-she turned over the packet-?about `Rich, Cool,' and `Navy Cut Tobacco' and that extraordinary trademark60 of a doll's house swimming in chocolate fudge with Nottingham Castle written underneath61. So then Mr. Player said, `Well then, we'll put one on top of the other.' And that's just exactly what they did and I must say I think it fits in very well, don't you? Though I expect the Hero was pretty annoyed at the mermaid62 being blanked out.?
?The mermaid??
?Oh, yes. Underneath the bottom comer of the lifebuoy where it dips into the sea, the Hero had put a tiny mermaid combing her hair with one hand and beckoning him home with the other. That was supposed to be the woman he was going to find and marry. But you can see there wasn't room and anyway her breasts were showing and Mr. Player, who was a very strong Quaker, didn't think that was quite proper. But he made it up to the Hero in the end.?
?Oh, how did he do that??
?Well you see the cigarettes were a great success. It was really the picture that did it. People decided that anything with a wonderful picture like that on the outside must be good and Mr. Player made a fortune and I expect his Successors did too. So when the Hera was getting old and hadn't got long to live, Mr. Player had a copy of the lifebuoy picture drawn by the finest artist of the day. It was just the same as the Hero's except that it wasn't in color and it showed him very much older, and he promised the Hero that this picture too would always be on his cigarette packets, only on the inside bit. Here.? She pushed out the cardboard container. ?You see how old he looks? And one other thing, if you look closely, the flags on the two ships are flying at half mast. Rather sweet of Mr. Player, don't you think, to ask the artist for that. It meant that the Hero's first and last ship were remembering him. And Mr. Player and his two sons came and presented it to him just before he died. It must have made it much easier for him, don't you think??
?It certainly must. Mr. Player must have been a very thoughtful man.?
The girl was slowly returning from her dreamland. She said in a different, rather prim52 voice, ?Well, thank you anyway for having listened to the story. I know it's all a fairy tale. At least I suppose it is. But children are stupid in that way. They like to have something to keep under the pillow until they're quite grown up-a rag doll or a small toy or something. I know that boys are just the same. My brother hung on to a little metal charm his nanny had given him until he was nineteen. Then he lost it. I shall never forget the scenes he made. Even though he was in the Air Force by then and it was the middle of the war. He said it brought him luck.? She shrugged63 her shoulders. There was sarcasm64 in her voice as she said, ?He needn't have worried. He did all right. He was much older than me, but I adored him. I still do. Girls always love crooks65, particularly if they're their brother. He did so well that he might have done something for me. But he never did. He said that life was every man for himself. He said that his grandfather had been so famous as a poacher and a smuggler66 in the Dolomites that his was the finest tombstone among all the Petacchi graves in the graveyard67 at Bolzano. My brother said he was going to have a finer one still, and by making money the same way.? Bond held his cigarette steady. He took a long draw at it and let the smoke out with a quiet hiss68. ?Is your family name Petacchi, then??
?Oh, yes. Vitali is only a stage name. It sounded better so I changed it. Nobody knows the other. I've almost forgotten it myself. I've called myself Vitali since I came back to Italy. I wanted to change everything.?
?What happened to your brother? What was his first name?? ?Giuseppe. He went wrong in various ways. But he was a wonderful flyer. Last time I heard of him he'd been given some high-up job in Paris. Perhaps that'll make him settle down. I pray every night that it will. He's all I've got. I love him in spite of everything. You understand that??
Bond stabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray69. He called for the bill. He said, ?Yes, I understand that.
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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largo
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| n.广板乐章；adj.缓慢的，宽广的；adv.缓慢地，宽广地 | |
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plaques
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| （纪念性的）匾牌( plaque的名词复数 )； 纪念匾； 牙斑； 空斑 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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coups
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| n.意外而成功的行动( coup的名词复数 )；政变；努力办到难办的事 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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perfectly
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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shareholders
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inevitably
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vendetta
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| n.世仇，宿怨 | |
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watchful
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bravado
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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prodded
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magnetism
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malevolence
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standing
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drawn
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snarl
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squire
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generosity
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champagne
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consigned
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flickered
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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displease
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| vt.使不高兴，惹怒；n.不悦，不满，生气 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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atrophied
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| adj.萎缩的，衰退的v.（使）萎缩，（使）虚脱，（使）衰退( atrophy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steamships
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| n.汽船，大轮船( steamship的名词复数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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lavatory
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| n.盥洗室，厕所 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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trademark
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| n.商标；特征；vt.注册的…商标 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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mermaid
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| n.美人鱼 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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crooks
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| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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smuggler
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| n.走私者 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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ashtray
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| n.烟灰缸 | |
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