All day long the two women at Hilton House lived alone. No carriage
approached the gates; no foot-passenger was seen to enter the grounds.
Within and without all was silent and lifeless.
But with nightfall came a change. Lights shone in all the lower
windows, music sounded on the still night air, many carriages rolled
through the open gateway--broughams with flashing lamps dashed up to
the marble portico, and hack cabs mingled with the more stylish
equipages.
There were very few nights on which Paulina Durski's saloons were not
enlivened by the presence of many guests. Her visitors were all
gentlemen; but they treated the mistress of the house with as much
respect as if she had been surrounded by women of the highest rank.
Night after night the same men assembled in those faded saloons; night
after night the carriages rolled along the avenue--the flashing lamps
illuminated the darkness. Those who watched the proceedings of the
Austrian widow had good reason to wonder what the attraction was which
brought those visitors so constantly to Hilton House. Many speculations
were formed, and the fair widow's reputation suffered much at the hands
of her neighbours; but none guessed the real charm of those nightly
receptions.
That secret was known only to those within the mansion; and from those
it could not be hidden.
The charm which drew so many visitors to the saloons of Madame Durski
was the fatal spell of the gaming-table.
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