Some time in June of the year 1800 (as privately1 chronicled) there came a famous evening at Whitelaw’s Club in St. James’s Street, off Piccadilly, London. There and then—according to the unattested evidence of an eyewitness—Mr. Ladislaw lost his head, Lord Dunlone his mistress, Sir Robert Linne his fortune, and Major Dalrymple his life. Thus it appears these four were all losers, and each of a material property, save the first, who, alone of the quartette, commuted2 his self-possession for a very real equivalent in hard cash.
“Whitelaw’s” in those days ran, of a host of gambling3 clubs, the deepest. It was there all heavy potations and long stakes (at which many a self-martyr burned); but the first of these were put down and the second up with an accepted solemnity of decorum that was traditional to the place and the sign of its moral endowment. Fox, in his heavier moments, had been known to hazard in its glooms occasionally, and to lose, of course; and—equally of course—to find immediate4 balm for his scorched5 fingers in the inevitable6 “Herodotus.” Selwyn, also, and Topham Beauclerc, and many another Georgium sidus, had played and hiccupped within its pregnant walls; but always with gravity and a weight of personal responsibility towards the foundation. “Brookes’s” might have held in its time more showy revelry; “Almack’s” have gambled in broad-brimmed straw hats, bedecked with flowers, and masks to hide the play of emotions. “Whitelaw’s” would have none of these. It had ever stood coldly aloof7 from flash and notoriety, accepting Todd’s definition of a club as “An association of persons subjected to particular rules,” rather than that of Johnson (the rendering8 has a warm personal flavour), who calls it “An assembly of good fellows, meeting under certain conditions.” From first to last it remained ponderous9 in self-importance and rigid10 in exacting11 the observance of its unwritten codes of conduct. If its gaming operations were large, it desired the company of no feather-brain “plungers”; but rather of players of substance, to whom cards were a market, not a raffle12.
Therefore, when on this particular night no fewer than four of its members—like those in the fable—suddenly revolted against the central system, and, for a space of minutes, made havoc13 of its respectable traditions, it is no wonder that “Whitelaw’s” rose at the outrage14 like one man, and, in the upshot, pronounced sentence of club ostracism15 upon the delinquents16. This, as it affected17 three, is matter of private history. The fourth escaped the distinction there and then through the interposition of “the man with the scythe18.”
Faro was the game, and the stakes were swingeing The four had played from three o’clock of a Thursday afternoon to six of the Friday morning. In the white spread of day their eyes showed up blood-shot, their cheeks grimy with candle soot19, their hair slack and unstrung. My lord Dunlone, who was a slipslop youth, colourless and jejune20, with stains of wine on his chin and high cravat21, brooded in fathomless22 sulkiness, the only pronounced expression he was ever real master of. His neighbour, Sir Robert Linne, had the look of a fine tormented23 devil, desperate and at bay.
These were the losers. Of the winners, Mr. Ladislaw was a perspiring24 cabbage of a man, stunted25 and over-headed; and he seemed drunk and amazed with his good fortune; and the major presented a lean and hungry appearance, as if his passions were devouring26 worms—which indeed I believe they were.
About six of the clock there came a pause in the game—the lull27 before the crash. Mr. Ladislaw, twinkling prosperity, bent28 obsequiously29 to the baronet, his cards clumped30 together in one hand.
“The stakes as before, Sir Robert?” he said in a small, confidential31 voice.
The other gave a hollow laugh, checking it frowningly in mid-career.
“As you please, sir.”
Major Dalrymple, with his thick lips dropped apart, was gazing breathingly at his sulky neighbour. The latter, conscious of the inquiring scrutiny33, pulled himself erect—a cub34 of ill-temper.
“Curse it!” he muttered, with a surly sidelong glance. “What am I being stared at for, curse it?”
“Your pardon, my lord,” said the major, in a high, stiff voice. “I looked only to inquire your stake.”
“I can settle it myself, sir, without your help”—and, with a very meaning action, he held his cards face-downwards upon his breast.
“Oh, curse it!” cried the Viscount. “What have I said?”
Sir Robert laughed recklessly.
“You’re hard on my lord. He clasped his dear love to his bosom—no more. ’Tis an amorous38 way he has.”
The dyspeptic face of the soldier went dark. He recognized an allusion39 in the bantering41 words. The Viscount Dunlone, in fact (it was notorious), had outbidden him in the favour of a certain Mademoiselle Carminelle, a figurante at Vauxhall in the suit of Mr. “Tom Restless”; and, popularly, he was supposed to have aged42 under the disappointment.
“Come!” cried the baronet. “Give us the privilege of driving to the devil our own way. You mustn’t criticize the actions of dying men. We writhe43 with wounds, sir, while you are sound.”—He turned to Mr. Ladislaw, who sat staring, apprehensive44. “I stake my all,” he said; and named a sum sufficiently45 desperate.
There were a few late habitués in the room. One of these, a dry, long man, with a face like a puckered46 medlar and a short-sighted contraction47 of the eyelids48, had been . for some time a stealthily intent observer of the quartette. Now this individual, humouring a habit of his by drawing in his breath with a wincing49 sound, gave his chair a shift, and seemed to be awaiting results, at a distance, with some secret interest.
“Stake, and have done with it!” cried Sir Robert boisterously50 to the young lord.
The latter turned an insolent51, languid glance on Major Dalrymple. They were a contrast. The soldier set, spare, bilious52, with a great hooked nose and cracked heavy lips; the other a ruffled53 petit-maître of the first folly54, pearl-powdered, cherry-mouthed, a model of sartorial55 elegance56 from his choking cravat—so amplified57 as that his face looked like a peach stuck in a napkin—to his full pantaloons of apricot-coloured velvet58.
“I stake,” lisped this exquisite—“I stake your reversion, sir.”
There were influences of wine and ill-fortune fermenting59 in the fool’s empty head. Otherwise he would have hardly dared such perilous60 banter40.
“I fail to gather your lordship,” said the soldier, going red.
“The adorable Carminelle,” began the Viscount drawlingly, when the other jumped up with a furious face, upsetting his chair in the act, and clapped his left hand instinctively61 upon his thigh62.
There was a moment’s commotion63. One or two in the room rose; but the dry, short-sighted stranger sat on, quietly rubbing his chin.
Nonplussed64 for the moment, as it seemed, by the absence of his weapon, Major Dalrymple gasped65, hesitated—and sat down again. As he did so, some were aware of a blue streak66 across his forehead that remained there after his flush of passion had subsided67.
“I stake a thousand pounds against that,” he said, with a sudden fall to intense quietness of intonation68.
The incident passed, and the deal. There was a stern spirit of expectancy69 in the room. This was not “Whitelaw’s” way—either as regarded the outburst, or the nature of the declaration that had produced it.
Then, all in a moment, Sir Robert Linne had leaped up and flung his cards in Mr. Ladislaw’s face, and the major was on his feet again, stamping and declaiming.
The baronet’s victim, taken completely by surprise, started and fell over on his back, his chair splintering beneath him. The place was in an uproar70 at once—red and angry visages on all sides. Only Sir Robert stood placid71 with folded arms, smiling grimly down on the havoc he had wrought72.
“I call all to witness,” screamed the major, panting and struggling in the arms of two who had seized him, “that I accepted my lord’s stake, but not his infernal insult. I have won the right of protection over an outraged73 lady, and I now call upon him to answer for his brutal74 abuse of her name in public”—and, despite his captors, he whipped up a glass of wine from the table, and dashed it at the stupid face of the lordling, who still sat, sullenly75 defiant76 of the spirit he had evoked77. The glass cut his forehead and half-stunned him for the moment.
“Mr. Jephson,” cried the soldier, glaring round, and selecting one from the excited group about him—“you will do me the service to ac——”
The word snapped in his teeth like a pipe-stem. With a groan78 he sank upon the ground, and his face was purple from ear to ear.
An instant’s silence followed, then babble79 of voices and the pressing inward of the spectators around the fallen man. Lord Dunlone sat mopping his red forehead in foolish vacancy80; and Sir Robert Linne strode over to Mr. Ladislaw, who had been helped to his feet and stood apart and alone.
“I took full licence for a ruined man,” said the baronet; “and am prepared to give the fullest satisfaction.”
The injured one almost whimpered.
“That is the devil of luck,” he said hysterically81. “You force a quarrel on me, and deprive me of the fruits of it.”
“Oh, sir! Not necessarily.”
“You know I’m damned bad at shot and thrust.”
The loser smiled wickedly. The only stealthy witness of the little scene was the short-sighted man.
“You desire to compound the insult, then?” said Sir Robert.
“Oh! surely, sir, with your kind permission.”
The other laughed, shrugged82 his shoulders, and turned away. Mr. Ladislaw took a forward step and ventured timidly:
“You exaggerated, I trust, when you spoke of yourself as ruined?”
“Do you question my statement, sir?”
He flapped round with a mockery of fierceness. The little man fell back, scared.
“Oh, dear me, no!” he cried.
Sir Robert laughed again, shot a contemptuous look at the group by the table, and went quietly from the room.
“The fellow should have fought,” he muttered. “I would have made myself a broad target to him.”
Then he sighed.
“But there’s a shorter cut.”
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1 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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2 commuted | |
通勤( commute的过去式和过去分词 ); 减(刑); 代偿 | |
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3 gambling | |
n.赌博;投机 | |
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4 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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5 scorched | |
烧焦,烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(植物)枯萎,把…晒枯; 高速行驶; 枯焦 | |
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6 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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7 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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8 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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9 ponderous | |
adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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10 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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11 exacting | |
adj.苛求的,要求严格的 | |
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12 raffle | |
n.废物,垃圾,抽奖售卖;v.以抽彩出售 | |
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13 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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14 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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15 ostracism | |
n.放逐;排斥 | |
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16 delinquents | |
n.(尤指青少年)有过失的人,违法的人( delinquent的名词复数 ) | |
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17 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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18 scythe | |
n. 长柄的大镰刀,战车镰; v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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19 soot | |
n.煤烟,烟尘;vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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20 jejune | |
adj.枯燥无味的,贫瘠的 | |
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21 cravat | |
n.领巾,领结;v.使穿有领结的服装,使结领结 | |
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22 fathomless | |
a.深不可测的 | |
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23 tormented | |
饱受折磨的 | |
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24 perspiring | |
v.出汗,流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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25 stunted | |
adj.矮小的;发育迟缓的 | |
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26 devouring | |
吞没( devour的现在分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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27 lull | |
v.使安静,使入睡,缓和,哄骗;n.暂停,间歇 | |
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28 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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29 obsequiously | |
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30 clumped | |
adj.[医]成群的v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的过去式和过去分词 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
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31 confidential | |
adj.秘(机)密的,表示信任的,担任机密工作的 | |
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32 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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33 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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34 cub | |
n.幼兽,年轻无经验的人 | |
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35 rigidly | |
adv.刻板地,僵化地 | |
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36 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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37 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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38 amorous | |
adj.多情的;有关爱情的 | |
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39 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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40 banter | |
n.嘲弄,戏谑;v.取笑,逗弄,开玩笑 | |
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41 bantering | |
adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑,说笑,逗乐( banter的现在分词 );(善意地)取笑,逗弄 | |
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42 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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43 writhe | |
vt.挣扎,痛苦地扭曲;vi.扭曲,翻腾,受苦;n.翻腾,苦恼 | |
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44 apprehensive | |
adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的 | |
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45 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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46 puckered | |
v.(使某物)起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47 contraction | |
n.缩略词,缩写式,害病 | |
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48 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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49 wincing | |
赶紧避开,畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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50 boisterously | |
adv.喧闹地,吵闹地 | |
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51 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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52 bilious | |
adj.胆汁过多的;易怒的 | |
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53 ruffled | |
adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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54 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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55 sartorial | |
adj.裁缝的 | |
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56 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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57 amplified | |
放大,扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 ); 增强; 详述 | |
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58 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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59 fermenting | |
v.(使)发酵( ferment的现在分词 );(使)激动;骚动;骚扰 | |
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60 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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61 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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62 thigh | |
n.大腿;股骨 | |
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63 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
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64 nonplussed | |
adj.不知所措的,陷于窘境的v.使迷惑( nonplus的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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66 streak | |
n.条理,斑纹,倾向,少许,痕迹;v.加条纹,变成条纹,奔驰,快速移动 | |
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67 subsided | |
v.(土地)下陷(因在地下采矿)( subside的过去式和过去分词 );减弱;下降至较低或正常水平;一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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68 intonation | |
n.语调,声调;发声 | |
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69 expectancy | |
n.期望,预期,(根据概率统计求得)预期数额 | |
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70 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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71 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
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72 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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73 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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74 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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75 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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76 defiant | |
adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
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77 evoked | |
[医]诱发的 | |
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78 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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79 babble | |
v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
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80 vacancy | |
n.(旅馆的)空位,空房,(职务的)空缺 | |
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81 hysterically | |
ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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82 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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83 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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