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Updated: June 23, 2025
That was what she had done this afternoon. And then, rather to her surprise, after they had all enjoyed ices and cakes at Madame Wachner's expense, Anna Wolsky and l'Ami Fritz declared they were going back to the Casino. "I don't mean to play again to-night," said Sylvia, firmly. "I feel dreadfully tired," and the excitement had indeed worn her out. She longed to go back to the Hôtel du Lac.
We are so very seldom separated. 'Darby and Joan, is not that what English people would call us?" "The moon is so bright I can see quite well," Sylvia was taking off her hat; she put it, together with a little fancy bag in which she kept the loose gold she played with at the gambling tables, on Madame Wachner's bed.
Sylvia was still too ignorant of play to understand the full significance of Madame Wachner's words, but she was vaguely interested, though she could not understand one word of the eager talk between Anna and the man. "Let us leave them at it!" exclaimed the older woman, suddenly. "It will be much nicer in the garden, Madame, for it is not yet too 'ot for out of doors.
This fact had enlisted to a special degree Madame Wachner's interest and liking for the two young widows. Sylvia rang the primitive bell which hung by the door which alone gave access, apart from the windows, to the Châlet des Muguets. After some moments the day-servant employed by Madame Wachner opened the door with the curt words, "Monsieur and Madame are in Paris."
She would have liked the support of Madame Wachner's cheerful presence when making her inquiries, for she was aware that the proprietors of Anna's pension M. and Madame Malfait had been very much annoyed that she, Sylvia, had not joined her friend there. Madame Malfait was sitting in her usual place that is, in a little glass cage in the hall and when she saw Mrs.
Close to the broad, low bed was a writing-table, or, rather, a deal table, covered with a turkey red cloth, on which lay a large sheet of ink-stained, white blotting-paper. Flanking the blotting-paper was a pile of Monsieur Wachner's little red books the books in which he so carefully noted the turns of the game at the Casino, and which served him as the basis of his elaborate gambling "systems."
The Comte Virieu had won exactly the same amount. Now everybody looked pleased except the banker. For the first time a smile irradiated Monsieur Wachner's long face. As for Madame Wachner, she was overjoyed. Catching Sylvia by the hand, she exclaimed, in her curious, woolly French, "I would like to embrace you! But I know that English ladies do not like kissing in public. It is splendid splendid!
By the way, I forgot to tell you my name. That was very rude of me! My name is Wachner Sophie Wachner, at your service." "And my name is Bailey Sylvia Bailey." "Ah, I thought so you are a Mees!" "No," said Sylvia gravely, "I am a widow." Madame Wachner's face became very serious. "Ah," she said, sympathetically, "that is sad very sad for one so young and so beautiful!" Sylvia smiled.
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