Chapter 6 The Gamester by Rafael Sabatini
THE COUNT OF HORN
If Mr Law had any doubt of what the Regent meant by extreme unction, that doubt was resolved before the week was out.
To the Chancellor His Highness sent on the morrow the Duke of La Vrillière, to demand of him his seals. D'Aguesseau, startled by this abrupt dismissal from office, begged to be allowed to see the Regent. But La Vrillière had his instructions.
"I am required to assure you that it could serve no purpose. His Highness relieves you of an office the duties of which, you have indicated, might in certain circumstances become painful. It is important that the seals be held by one who in any conflict with the Parliament will account himself the representative of His Highness. He also suggests to you that you withdraw from Paris to your estate at Fresnes."
Perceiving in this exile time extent of his disgrace, d'Aguesseau attempted no further argument.
All that it remained for him to do before departing was to send word to Noailles of what was happening as a result of the intrigues of the abominable Monsieur Lass, thus putting the Duke in the way of receiving also his viaticum.
Noailles not unnaturally went off at once to the Palais Royal.
However his Grace might have intended to broach the matter, he found his cue when he beheld the Chancellor's seals on the Regent's writing table.
He affected surprise. "Will Your Highness permit me to ask if this means that d'Aguesseau has resigned his office?"
"At my request," was the gentle answer. "It grieved me, but it would grieve me still more to have him troubled, as he told us that he must be, by his conception of duty. So as to spare the poor gentleman I have required his seals."
"Your Highness, no doubt, will already have chosen his successor."
"Monsieur Lass has suggested that d'Argenson would be an excellent Chancellor; indeed, just the man to handle the Parliament if it should again show itself mutinous. Don't you agree, Noailles?"
It was beyond the Duke's histrionics to dissemble his annoyance. By that question in an artless tone, it seemed to him that he was mocked. He flushed as he answered: "I am so far from agreeing, and so aware of what is taking place, that I beg your Highness' leave to resign my commission of the Finances."
The Regent thrust out a lip in polite regret, smiling at the same time, so as to mark its insincerity. "As you please, my dear Duke."
From red that he had been, Noailles turned white in mortified astonishment. He stood a moment undecided. Then, not trusting himself to make any answer, he abruptly bowed. "I take my leave, monseigneur."
"Do you ask for nothing?"
"For nothing, monseigneur."
"Ah!" The Regent sighed. "I have reserved a place for you on the Council of Regency."
"I shall make little use of it."
The Regent, however, refused to be offended by this insolence. "As you please," he said. "You have my leave."
Noailles went off to pour his rage into the ears of all who esteemed him or who would listen. The sum of his grievance was that France, governed by a cabal, was permitting her finances to fall more and more under the control of a foreign adventurer, a gamester who had been turned out of every country in Europe. Under the indolent regency of Philippe of Orléans, France was heading for irreparable disaster.
All this coming from a man hitherto regarded as one of the chief supporters of the Regent, could not fail to make its impression. The Parliament was peculiarly stirred to resentment by the manner in which the case was presented to it by Noailles, by some of his friends, and by the vindictive Duchess of Maine, acting through Pompadour, Malézieu and other of her devoted agents.
But whilst a powerful party of nobles and place-seekers hostile to Law was coming into existence, Mr Law, warned by Dubois, who kept his ear to the ground, was creating a party of supporters just as high-placed. Admitted freely now to Court, and moving there with the ease of one in the exercise of an imprescriptible right, his handsome person, and courtly manners won him friends on every hand.
In addition, his friendship was already proving profitable. For the singular foresight of his calculating mind had obtained a decree by which members of the nobility, debarred by their ranks from sullying themselves by participation in trading concerns, were permitted without derogation to acquire stock in the Mississippi Company. And his manipulations of that stock, with a view to bringing its value steadily upwards until it should arrive at par, gave many opportunities for quick profits, in the indication of which he was extremely generous.
Then there were such other monopolies in existence as the China Company, the East India Company, the Company of Sénégal, none of which was prospering, and upon all of which Mr Law had an eye, counting upon being able presently to bring them under his control. So he, too, rallied his friends and supporters among whom were the Duc d'Antin, the Prince de Conti, the Duc de Bourbon, the Duc de la Force, and, oddly enough, considering the man's intimate relations with Noailles, the Count of Horn.
Horn, as it chanced, was at the moment deeply indebted to Mr Law. He had lately sought his advice, which was but a way of seeking his assistance. He had, he said, unexpectedly received an important sum of money which he desired to place, and he would be grateful for the guidance of Monsieur Lass in such a matter.
Mr Law was moved by no particular affection for this handsome, dissipated idler, a younger brother of the Prince of Horn, and related to half the princely houses of Europe, which had not prevented his dismissal in disgrace from the Austrian Army. It was reported that recently, whilst in England, he had married a lady of great wealth, who, however, had not accompanied him to France, and Mr Law assumed that this might account for the possession of that sum of money which Horn described as considerable.
It did not favourably impress him that despite this sudden affluence, there should be no mention by the Count of that old debt of five thousand louis which long ago he had lost at faro to Mr Law and for which the Scot still held his note of hand.
Nevertheless, pursuing his policy of making friends in high places and considering the great connections of this young libertine, Mr Law was prepared to guide him. He had lately been looking into the affairs of the Compagnie de Gambie, another of the colonial monopolies, and he had found them in such desperate case that the owners of the stock would be glad to dispose of it for a tenth of its face value. He had decided that eventually he would assume control of it and add it to his other undertakings.
He advised a purchase of this stock to Horn. "Buy all you can of it, proceeding discreetly. It should make you a fortune."
The Count accepted the advice, and as if his regard for Law were increased by gratitude, he became more assiduous than ever as a visitor in the Rue de Grenelle.
Catherine Law, sharing, as was natural, the social eminence to which her husband was attaining, had become in those days less querulous, mellowing under the flattering attentions of the distinguished company that came to pay its court to the financial wizard whom the Regent delighted to honour.
Not that she chose to acknowledge in this anything for which to thank a husband who gave her no other cause for gratitude. She had ways--and they were none too subtle--of conveying to him that she had merely come to occupy the position that was rightly her due and to which ultimately she must inevitably have arrived by the right of her own qualities.
It was a point of view which he, wrapped in his cold aloofness, never attempted to dispel. Holding it, she accounted it her duty to entertain with splendour, and set herself to convert the mansion in the Rue de Grenelle into a Mecca of the beau monde.
One of the many parties that she gave, and this at her husband's own suggestion, was to celebrate the Marquis d'Argenson's appointment to the Chancellorship, an elevation for which the Marquis did not conceal that he was indebted to the arts exercised by Mr Law in connection with the salt tax.
The guests--a score or so--were brought together from different quarters of life's higher levels. Diplomacy was represented by Lord and Lady Stair; the Regent's circle by the Marquis of Canillac and the Count of Horn; the blood-royal by that malicious young hunchback the Prince de Conti, and the robe by d'Argenson himself.
Then there were such prominent men as the gay Duc d'Antin, who as Madame de Montespan's one legitimate child, accounted himself superior to his adulterine half-brothers who had the King for father, and there was Hector de La Grange, the banker, a man of fine presence, engaging manner and great wealth, who was everywhere received.
Over a princely entertainment Mr Law presided with that suave charm of which he was master. It may be doubted if his table could be matched in any house in Paris. Its plate of gold and silver and choice ceramics, like the exquisite Murano glass, were appointments which had come with him from Savoy, together with his Bolognese cook, his cellarer, and his impeccable maître d'hôtel.
Darkly handsome and unostentatiously elegant from the curls of his brown wig to the red heels of his shoes, he was seated at that gleaming board between the angular haughtiness of the Countess of Stair and the warm loveliness of Madame de Sabran, neither of whom, as it happened, was paying much heed to him.
Lady Stair was concerned with the observation of her husband, who placed between Catherine Law and the beautiful Madame Raymond, was neglecting his hostess in his over-assiduous attention to his other neighbour. Madame Raymond might contrive to preserve the diffident airs of a vestal; but Lady Stair was more impressed by her too-revealing décolletage, which also appeared to hold the hooded eyes of the ambassador. Her ladyship's lips grew pinched as she watched.
Catherine Law might have resented the neglect of his lordship, usually so effusive to her, had she been less deeply engaged on her other side by Horn. Under his provocation, laughter rippled from her in a continuous, if subdued, stream, and so engrossed were they in their own mirth that they had no ear for d'Argenson, who was being cruelly witty on the score of the misfortunes that were overtaking the financier Simon Bernard.
It was d'Argenson's way to discover amusement in most things, since rare in his view were the things that escaped the imprint of human folly. In Simon Bernard he now perceived that most diverting of spectacles, a man hoist with his own petard. Because the financier had feared for his interests, he had led the opposition of his compeers to Law's system when it was before the Council. As a result the Council had been thrown back on its other expedients for raising money, and of these the chief was the squeezing of the tax farmers.
D'Argenson likened them to grapes in the press, left with only their skins. Bernard, a master of corruption, had run round in panic from one to another of the Regent's intimates, offering millions to any who would employ his influence to the end that proceedings against him should be abandoned.
"Evidently," said d'Argenson with relish, "the Hebrew knight failed to find a friend at Court. For he's a ruined man today, and actually in fear for his life."
"If he did not find a friend at Court," said La Grange, "he certainly found an escroc, to pose as a friend and accept a million for services that were never rendered."
This riveted attention upon the banker; for in what he said there was the hint of a story spiced with scandal. Even Horn ceased to be merry for Catherine's delight.
"How do you come to know that?" asked d'Argenson.
"From Bernard himself. The unhappy man came to solicit my assistance and had the impudence to offer me a bribe. He complained bitterly that a nobleman, one of the Regent's roués had accepted a million from him and had not lifted a finger to help him."
"A nobleman, did you say?" croaked the Prince de Conti.
"So Bernard described him."
"An ignoble man," said Mr Law, "would describe him better."
"One of the Regent's roués, you said," cried Canillac, who was himself a member of that happy band. "I hope he named him."
"The odd thing is that he did not. Nor did I press him. But he did let fall that the scoundrel is a count."
"A count!" cried de Conti. "Faith, Horn, there are not so many of you that you should let it lie there. It brings you all under suspicion."
"Under suspicion of what?" Horn was contemptuous. "If what this Jew says is true, he was well served for his impudence in attempting to bribe a gentleman. But probably it is all a lie."
"Bernard may be a thief, but he's not a liar," said d'Argenson. "Nor can I agree with you, Monsieur de Horn, that his impudence in offering a bribe would excuse a gentleman for robbing him."
"Let us be content to disagree then, Marquis," was the easy answer, which put an end to the topic and left the flow of conversation to become general again.
Mr Law was remembering the tale of a considerable sum of money for the placing of which the Count of Horn had sought his advice, and all things considered he was wondering might he not have been mistaken in assuming that the money came from England and the wealthy Countess, and whether Horn, who had never troubled to discharge to him a debt of honour of five thousand louis, might not be the Count accused by Bernard of having practised this swindle.
He was haled out of his thoughts by Lady Stair's voice, charged with acid, murmuring in his ear: "Your wife and my husband, Mr Law, are manifestly in the mode which makes the wives of other men and the husbands of other women more attractive."
"Has it still the power to surprise your ladyship?"
"And to disgust me. But perhaps I am plebeian in my views."
"If it is plebeian to be virtuous. I do not know."
She turned her head so as to look him fully in the face, and he found himself pitying her for her unattractiveness. Close-set eyes in which there was no sparkle flanked a lean high-bridged nose; patches on chin and cheekbone dissembled in each case a wart; her mouth was coarsely shaped and her chin receded. She resembled he thought, nothing so much as a hen. But she was dressed with care and taste. Diamonds gleamed on the dull flesh of her bosom.
"You do not know?" she echoed. "Does that mean that you do not care? If so, you are oddly changed since you left England."
"It means, my lady, that I discover no reason for caring."
"Do you not?" She turned her head again, and looked straight down the table at Catherine and Horn, who again were engrossed in their mirth, their heads almost touching. "Do you not?" she repeated. "You amaze me."
What she suggested was as clear to him as her own meanly, malicious nature, embittered by her husband's promiscuous gallantries, and taking satisfaction in uncovering the weaknesses of others. And yet it was impossible to deny that there was some justification for her hints. That the relations between Catherine and Horn were innocent enough he could not doubt, just as he could not suppose that they would remain so if Horn pursued his usual courses. He recalled how, at one of the Regent's supper parties, when first he had met Horn, and when oral licence knew no bounds, the young Count had boasted in nauseating detail of his bonnes fortunes.
Lady Stair was again commanding his attention. "For myself I could dare to give a name to the count who accepted Bernard's bribe. I know of only one man of that rank capable of such a meanness."
"You leave me to guess why you should be so sure."
Her lips tightened in a sour smile. "All the world knows that he is hard-driven by necessity. A gamester, and an unlucky gamester, he is crushed by debt. Such men are always ripe for bribery."
As it was the Stairs who had first brought the Count of Horn to his house, Mr Law found this peculiarly distasteful.
"Your ladyship is singularly well-informed."
"Not singularly. It happens that the gentleman in his fortune-hunting has married into my family--oh, a distant kinswoman of whom I have no cause to be proud, yet whom I can pity, poor deluded soul. He dazzled her, I suppose, with his good looks and high connections. Anyway, she married him a year ago in England." Her tinkling laugh was charged with malice. "He conceived her a wealthy woman, as, indeed, she is; but her wealth is so cunningly tied up by entails and the like that he cannot come by a shilling of it save by her consent. So that of those two she is not by now the only disillusioned one." Again there was that faint ripple of cruel laughter.
"Poetic justice," said Mr Law. "And she remains in England?"
"She has certainly shown no eagerness to join him. But she is in Paris now. She arrived some days ago. But I doubt if she will pay his debts for him. And I am told that he owes money everywhere. I believe that you, too, are one of his victims, Mr Law."
"Oh, an insignificance."
She raised her brows and stared at him. "I heard it put at five thousand louis. A hundred and fifty thousand livres. Do you call that an insignificance, Mr Law? La! I wonder by what yardstick you measure wealth."
Mr Law laughed. "I do not trouble to measure it. My business is to create it."
"Like the alchemists."
"More successfully, I dare assert."
"You'll need the success if you allow such men to owe you such sums. In your place I should compel him to disgorge whilst he still has something left of Bernard's million. Perhaps you find me vindictive. I am when I think of my kinswoman. My hope for her is that she may leave him and return to England since he no longer possesses a roof under which to shelter her. He has been living near St Philippe du Roule in the lodgings of a certain Colonel de Mille, a soldier of fortune, a man of his own kind, who was with him in the Austrian service, and turned out of it at the same time."
Mr Law was growing weary of her scandal-mongering. "Ah, well, he should be able to find a roof of his own now. I have advised him a purchase which should yield him a fortune before the year is out."
But the lady's venom was not yet exhausted. "And he repays you by making love to your wife. It is what I should expect of him."
"Let me assure your ladyship that he wastes his time."
"It is for you to make sure of that," she said, and at last gave attention to her other neighbour, leaving him free to devote himself to Madame de Sabran, who was warmly genial to all men.
Later, when they had risen from table and passed into the salon, the Count of Horn came urging Mr Law to make a faro bank. Considering what Mr Law had just learnt the moment was ill-chosen. He shook his head. They were standing apart from the others.
"There are," he said, "two excellent reasons why I should not: I do not care to make a bank in my own house, and it is my practice never to play with a debtor."
Horn, taken aback, flushed before he answered with a laugh: "That is to deny a man his revenge."
"Oh, no. From me any loser may have all the revenge he pleases. But not until he has paid his last losses. There is a bagatelle of five thousand louis for which I hold your paper, Count."
"And you are pressing me for payment?"
Law suspected the impertinence of a sneer.
"By no means. Take all the time you need."
"You should know that every louis I possess is in the Compagnie de Gambie."
"How much have you contrived to buy?"
"All that I could pay for. Some seven thousand shares at about one hundred livres."
"Take them to my bank, hypothecate them for half their cost, and with the proceeds make a further purchase."
"If one could be quite sure..."
"I think you may be. But be discreet, or we shall have the price rising prematurely."
"Depend upon me. And now, this faro bank?" D'Argenson and La Grange were approaching. He appealed to them. "Come and persuade the Baron to give us a deal at faro."
"You would waste your breath," Mr Law assured them. "It is too distasteful to me to win money from my guests."
"Must it be forgone?" La Grange asked him.
"Not forgone. But it might happen, and I dare not have it happen under the eyes of Monsieur d'Argenson."
"Will you always rally me for what is past?" grumbled d'Argenson. "The fact is that I actually acted as your advocate with the King. I protested to him that having had you watched I was convinced that your play was as scrupulously fair as your luck was uncanny."
"Your agents did not watch me closely enough."
"Eh?" D'Argenson was startled.
"Otherwise they would not have attributed all to luck. They would have perceived that mere luck could never be so consistent. No, no. I am never tired of announcing that I win by avoiding the errors by which men lose."
"Do you never suspect, Baron," asked La Grange, "that that is something which your good fortune has deceived you into believing."
"Let me show you a thing," said Mr Law. "It is a crude, simple, elementary thing, perhaps, but it will serve to demonstrate calculation's part in gaming. In all your experience as Lieutenant-General, Marquis, have you ever known a punter win at lottery dice?"
"I'll not pretend to have taken much interest in the game. So that I can't answer you."
"Then you'll never have observed that the high prizes that tempt the punters are on numbers so improbable as to be almost impossible, whilst on the probable ones the prizes amount to a mere return of the stakes."
"I don't understand," said d'Argenson, "how it can be said of any numbers that they are probable."
"If the casts are honest," added La Grange, "one number is as likely to be thrown as another."
"So they say who lose their money."
From the drawer of a lacquered cabinet he took a dice box, and moved to a card table, about which his guests came clustering.
"Here are seven dice: the number used in these lotteries. With these any number may be thrown from seven to forty-two. Let me make a cast with them."
He rolled them from the box, and when they had come to a standstill the dots added up to a total of twenty-three. "Imagine that to be the main, and accept it, or any of the three numbers immediately following, as constituting a nick. My wager is that I will throw one of those four numbers out of the forty-two that may be thrown."
"If you are really serious," said Horn, "I will lay you a thousand louis to a hundred against it."
Mr Law shook his head. "Afterwards I should be accused of robbing you."
Lord Stair interposed. "Let others share the risk with the Count. I'll gladly bear a part of the wager."
"As I will," said d'Antin.
Still Mr Law refused. "Afterwards, if you still wish it. But for this first cast I'll accept no more than a wager of ten louis to a louis from the Count of Horn."
On the word he rolled the dice from the box. When they had settled it was d'Argenson who called the score in a voice of stupefaction. It was again twenty-three.
"Twenty-three!" echoed Horn. "Mordieu, that was a near escape." His laugh was strained as he lugged out his purse. "Faith, it was worth ten louis to see you do it."
"If the dice are honest," said d'Argenson, "you deal in magic. How else could you make them roll as you bid them?"
"Only the magic that lies in numbers for those that understand them. With seven dice the number of possible combinations is in the region of no less than forty thousand. But there are only seven chances of throwing seven and the same number of chances of throwing forty-two; that is to say, there are only seven combinations out of forty thousand that will give either of those numbers. But there are some twenty thousand combinations that will add up to any of the four numbers I have chosen. In that simple fact lies the deception. The odds, low at the extreme numbers, increase steadily in favour of the caster in a measure as you approach the mean ones."
He took up Horn's ten louis. "If now you care to wager your thousand louis against my hundred, I shall be happy to oblige you."
The Count shook his head, and laughed. "Faith, I should thank you for having made the lesson so cheap."
"I wonder have you really learnt it. If so you will realize that the principle is always the same, no matter what the number of dice employed. If remembered at hazard, a quick calculation of the odds of any throw will make fortune your servant in the long run, however, at moments she may fail you."
D'Argenson wagged his big head. "I begin to think that the old King was right. You know too much about these things."