Le Cocu (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XVIII)Kock, Paul de
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Le Cocu (Novels of Paul de Kock Volume XVIII)
Kock, Paul de
French fiction -- 19th century
I asked the maid if madame had written any other letters; she did not
know. Ah! if Dulac should escape me that evening! It was nearly seven
o’clock, so I dressed to go out. To go into society! to pretend to be
calm, to smile, when my heart was torn! But it would not be for long, I
hoped.
I put a large sum of money in my pocket. It was still too early to go to
an evening party, so I walked about my apartment. “Accursed apartment,”
I said to myself, “where I began by being unhappy, you will not see me
much longer!”
At last the clock struck eight; I left the house. The reception was at
the house of the lady where the magic lantern had been exhibited. It was
there that I had first had any enlightenment concerning my misfortune;
it was just that I should be revenged there.
Some guests had arrived; but very few, and he was not among them. People
asked me about madame; I said that she was not feeling well, and I took
my place at a card table.
Whenever the door of the salon opened, I turned with an involuntary
shudder. He did not come.
Bélan and Giraud arrived, and came to me to say good-evening; I
pretended to be very intent upon the game, in order not to have to enter
into conversation with them; but Bélan succeeded in coming close enough
to me to whisper in my ear:
“My friend, I am not; everything has been explained to my perfect
satisfaction. I will come some morning and tell you about it.”
I contented myself with shaking his hand; a little convulsively, no
doubt, for he withdrew his, saying:
“I am deeply touched by the pleasure which it gives you.”
At last he appeared! he entered the salon and looked about; I divined
whom he was looking for. He came toward me. Good! he knew nothing! He
had the assurance to inquire for my wife’s health, and why she had not
come. I restrained myself, I said a few vague words in reply, and I
walked away from him.
I waited until he took his place at the écarté table, which he did at
last. I bet against him. At the second deal, when we lost two points, I
declared that our adversary had not cut the cards; I spoke as if I
thought the cards had been stacked. The others looked at one another in
amazement, and said nothing. Monsieur Dulac became thoughtful and
distraught; he proposed to throw the hand out, but I refused.
We lost. I instantly took the vacant seat. I trebled my stake, so that
the bettors should not bet on me; then I held my cards so that nobody
could see them. I discarded my aces in order to lose. I demanded my
revenge, and although it is customary to leave the table when one loses,
I did not rise, and I doubled my stake again, indulging in more epigrams
on my adversary’s good luck.
Monsieur Dulac showed great patience; he seemed ill at ease, but he said
nothing. I lost again; I assumed the air of a determined gambler and
increased my stake again. Again I lost; thereupon I rose and threw my
cards in my adversary’s face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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