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The Magic Skin



by Honore de Balzac


Translated by Ellen Marriage









To Monsieur Savary; Member of Le Academie des Sciences。









I



THE TALISMAN



Towards the end of the month of October 1829 a young man entered the

Palais…Royal just as the gaming…houses opened; agreeably to the law

which protects a passion by its very nature easily excisable。 He

mounted the staircase of one of the gambling hells distinguished by

the number 36; without too much deliberation。



〃Your hat; sir; if you please?〃 a thin; querulous voice called out。 A

little old man; crouching in the darkness behind a railing; suddenly

rose and exhibited his features; carved after a mean design。



As you enter a gaming…house the law despoils you of your hat at the

outset。 Is it by way of a parable; a divine revelation? Or by exacting

some pledge or other; is not an infernal compact implied? Is it done

to compel you to preserve a respectful demeanor towards those who are

about to gain money of you? Or must the detective; who squats in our

social sewers; know the name of your hatter; or your own; if you

happen to have written it on the lining inside? Or; after all; is the

measurement of your skull required for the compilation of statistics

as to the cerebral capacity of gamblers? The executive is absolutely

silent on this point。 But be sure of this; that though you have

scarcely taken a step towards the tables; your hat no more belongs to

you now than you belong to yourself。 Play possesses you; your fortune;

your cap; your cane; your cloak。



As you go out; it will be made clear to you; by a savage irony; that

Play has yet spared you something; since your property is returned。

For all that; if you bring a new hat with you; you will have to pay

for the knowledge that a special costume is needed for a gambler。



The evident astonishment with which the young man took a numbered

tally in exchange for his hat; which was fortunately somewhat rubbed

at the brim; showed clearly enough that his mind was yet untainted;

and the little old man; who had wallowed from his youth up in the

furious pleasures of a gambler's life; cast a dull; indifferent glance

over him; in which a philosopher might have seen wretchedness lying in

the hospital; the vagrant lives of ruined folk; inquests on numberless

suicides; life…long penal servitude and transportations to

Guazacoalco。



His pallid; lengthy visage appeared like a haggard embodiment of the

passion reduced to its simplest terms。 There were traces of past

anguish in its wrinkles。 He supported life on the glutinous soups at

Darcet's; and gambled away his meagre earnings day by day。 Like some

old hackney which takes no heed of the strokes of the whip; nothing

could move him now。 The stifled groans of ruined players; as they

passed out; their mute imprecations; their stupefied faces; found him

impassive。 He was the spirit of Play incarnate。 If the young man had

noticed this sorry Cerberus; perhaps he would have said; 〃There is

only a pack of cards in that heart of his。〃



The stranger did not heed this warning writ in flesh and blood; put

here; no doubt; by Providence; who has set loathing on the threshold

of all evil haunts。 He walked boldly into the saloon; where the rattle

of coin brought his senses under the dazzling spell of an agony of

greed。 Most likely he had been drawn thither by that most convincing

of Jean Jacques' eloquent periods; which expresses; I think; this

melancholy thought; 〃Yes; I can imagine that a man may take to

gambling when he sees only his last shilling between him and death。〃



There is an illusion about a gambling saloon at night as vulgar as

that of a bloodthirsty drama; and just as effective。 The rooms are

filled with players and onlookers; with poverty…stricken age; which

drags itself thither in search of stimulation; with excited faces; and

revels that began in wine; to end shortly in the Seine。 The passion is

there in full measure; but the great number of the actors prevents you

from seeing the gambling…demon face to face。 The evening is a harmony

or chorus in which all take part; to which each instrument in the

orchestra contributes his share。 You would see there plenty of

respectable people who have come in search of diversion; for which

they pay as they pay for the pleasures of the theatre; or of gluttony;

or they come hither as to some garret where they cheapen poignant

regrets for three months to come。



Do you understand all the force and frenzy in a soul which impatiently

waits for the opening of a gambling hell? Between the daylight gambler

and the player at night there is the same difference that lies between

a careless husband and the lover swooning under his lady's window。

Only with morning comes the real throb of the passion and the craving

in its stark horror。 Then you can admire the real gambler; who has

neither eaten; slept; thought; nor lived; he has so smarted under the

scourge of his martingale; so suffered on the rack of his desire for a

coup of trente…et…quarante。 At that accursed hour you encounter eyes

whose calmness terrifies you; faces that fascinate; glances that seem

as if they had power to turn the cards over and consume them。 The

grandest hours of a gambling saloon are not the opening ones。 If Spain

has bull…fights; and Rome once had her gladiators; Paris waxes proud

of her Palais…Royal; where the inevitable roulettes cause blood to

flow in streams; and the public can have the pleasure of watching

without fear of their feet slipping in it。



Take a quiet peep at the arena。 How bare it looks! The paper on the

walls is greasy to the height of your head; there is nothing to bring

one reviving thought。 There is not so much as a nail for the

convenience of suicides。 The floor is worn and dirty。 An oblong table

stands in the middle of the room; the tablecloth is worn by the

friction of gold; but the straw…bottomed chairs about it indicate an

odd indifference to luxury in the men who will lose their lives here

in the quest of the fortune that is to put luxury within their reach。



This contradiction in humanity is seen wherever the soul reacts

powerfully upon itself。 The gallant would clothe his mistress in

silks; would deck her out in soft Eastern fabrics; though he and she

must lie on a truckle…bed。 The ambitious dreamer sees himself at the

summit of power; while he slavishly prostrates himself in the mire。

The tradesman stagnates in his damp; unhealthy shop; while he builds a

great mansion for his son to inherit prematurely; only to be ejected

from it by law proceedings at his own brother's instance。



After all; is there a less pleasing thing in the world than a house of

pleasure? Singular question! Man is always at strife with himself。 His

present woes give the lie to his hopes; yet he looks to a future which

is not his; to indemnify him for these present sufferings; setting

upon all his actions the seal of inconsequence and of the weakness of

his nature。 We have nothing here below in full measure but misfortune。



There were several gamblers in the room already when the young man

entered。 Three bald…headed seniors were lounging round the green

table。 Imperturbable as diplomatists; those plaster…cast faces of

theirs betokened blunted sensibilities; and hearts which had long

forgotten how to throb; even when a woman's dowry was the stake。 A

young Italian; olive…hued and dark…haired; sat at one end; with his

elbows on the table; seeming to listen to the presentiments of luck

that dictate a gambler's 〃Yes〃 or 〃No。〃 The glow of fire and gold was

on that southern face。 Some seven or eight onlookers stood by way of

an audience; awaiting a drama composed of the strokes of chance; the

faces of the actors; the circulation of coin; and the motion of the

croupier's rake; much as a silent; motionless crowd watches the

headsman in the Place de Greve。 A tall; thin man; in a threadb

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