Carlo Olisco was excited but not unnatural. Porter
looked gloomy and taciturn. Minotti and Allegro were both tense and
keen, the former arrogant, the latter flushed and excited. John Derby,
like the Countess Kate, played exactly as he used to play Jack Straws or
_besique_, on rainy days in the country.
From where she had been standing Nina could see only the top of Tornik's
head and, obeying an idle impulse of curiosity, she crossed to the
opposite side of the table. But no sooner had she caught sight of his
face than she started as though some one had dashed cold water over her.
Tornik! It was unbelievable! His eyes glowed like coals; his lips, half
opened, looked dry and burnt, as with that drawing-in motion of the
confirmed gambler he stretched out his trembling fingers to grasp the
last of the evening's winnings.
Nina was not in love with him--she had never even for a moment fancied
that she was. But nevertheless the revelation of his greed struck at her
pride, and she seemed to see herself, or rather her own fortune, being
grasped with precisely that avidity by those same long, eager fingers.
"He, too!" were the words that framed themselves in her thoughts.
Tornik, at least, had seemed disinterested, but it was only her gold
that he was after--like all the rest.
She turned away abruptly.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213