Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1901-11-23
CHAPTER /.
CHAPTER /.
II rs the last throw, Jean; why
ave paltry 20 from the wreck? %

4 ave IL pdibTy " from bfle WFetKg
'Better pocket it, Paul, old man;
may want an absinthe before morn
| ing"
''Aut absinthe, aut nihil," was the
sinister retort. 'I'll take the chance"
He touched the note to his lips in
token of farewell, and placed it on the
red. The red lost.
The flashing lamp of the Deschanel
club has been a fatal lode-star to many
youth whom the common gambling
den could not seattle. To scores of the
young aristocraey Of New Orleans it
has been the starting point to cer-
tain goal
Sunlight, through the glass Of rich
ly studded rotunda. traces delicate
patterns upon deep-piled rugs. Tapes
tries and hangings, the envy of east
ern princes, deaden all sounds. Care
fully shaded lamps soften outlines
and remove the traces which one man
hates to see in the face of another.
From the walls gems of recent salons
| tempt the gambler an instant from his
play. The exquisite in art is brief
sedative to ragged nerves. Music from
hidden orchestra lessons the tension,
unseen, always felt, wherever there is
play. Attendants, silent, impressive,
alert, glide from room to room, where
nothing risque, much less, disgraceful,
ever happens. From dome to carpet
nothing offends the sense of the most
acute of the Latin-Gallic race. And yet,
by reason of its name, the discre ton
of its habitues and the cleverness of
It's management, this FOOLS paradise,
known to every police precinct of New
Orleans, has thus far eluded the vigil
lance of the law. The plan of the place
sprang full-grown from a woman's
brain. BY no means its least attrac-
ton lies in the constant presence Of
this woman with an imperturbable
past. When the club opened a rumor
winged abroad that Nine. Deschanel
was the widow of Gen. Felix Deschanel,
who fell in the campaign of Maximil-
ian in Mexico. OF bounties and plum
! der, 1t was whispered that this bril-
liant general had reaped golden har-
vest, with which his widow had found
ed the Deschanel club, What men
knew was that Nine. Deschanel. presi-
dent, secretary and hostess, ruled her
small domain with perfect Justice and
exquisite tact. More would have been
unnecessary, If not superfuous.
Paul de Lignac and Jean Baronne
turned from the roulette table, where
de Lignac had courted disaster by fore
ing his luck to the limit
"Where now, Jean?"
! Baronne sent a side glance to his
friend. whom his mind flashed de-
/ c'scA not to leave before the NOR
row.
"Where?" he repeated, glancing
carelessly at the clock.
"There's well-browned capon
awaiting your verdict al my quarters
and a glass of red Burgundy is the
best lens | know for studying a situ-
alton"
"A thousand thanks, Jean-but-
hang it all, l don't want to see any
body!"
"See anybody" exclaimed Baronne.
"Have you forsaken your final senses
Do you think bachelor keeps a
body of female relatives slowed away
in his apartments? My valet is there,
but the stream of our combined woes
at the flood would not weaken the
barrier Of his reserve"
"The Levee is more to my mood"
"Too crowded for a patrician."
"Cr few drops of prussic in a
cordial"
something quite original in melo-
drama Hal hal" Baronne forced q
laugh which did him credit.
You've turned egotist, my dear fell
low. DO you fancy that you are the
first man in this little Paris to lose
a years income between lunch and
dinner? Besides, is the fire more
tempting than the frying-pan?"
To De Lignac's inquiring look, he
added: This may be the Inferno
my friend. I presume upon poetic Ii.
cense to suggest that you might find
an even worse place"
"'The weariest and most loathed
worldly life is a par
adise to what we fear of DEATH!
Shakespeare coat was buttoned
when he said that"
"Your levity graces you, Jean. II
is thin enough TO let your good heart
shine through. But have q look al
figures-no poetic license about
them. Not a cent In my pocksts- TA,
Indulgence of family cad generosity