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The Gambler

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky · English · Gutenberg #2197 · 351,095 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Gambler

Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translator: C. J. Hogarth


        
Release date: May 1, 2000 [eBook #2197]
                Most recently updated: September 21, 2026

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GAMBLER ***




The Gambler

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translated by C. J. Hogarth

Contents

 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Chapter V
 Chapter VI
 Chapter VII
 Chapter VIII
 Chapter IX
 Chapter X
 Chapter XI
 Chapter XII
 Chapter XIII
 Chapter XIV
 Chapter XV
 Chapter XVI
 Chapter XVII




I


At length I returned from two weeks leave of absence to find that my
patrons had arrived three days ago in Roulettenberg. I received from
them a welcome quite different to that which I had expected. The
General eyed me coldly, greeted me in rather haughty fashion, and
dismissed me to pay my respects to his sister. It was clear that from
_somewhere_ money had been acquired. I thought I could even detect a
certain shamefacedness in the General’s glance. Maria Philipovna, too,
seemed distraught, and conversed with me with an air of detachment.
Nevertheless, she took the money which I handed to her, counted it, and
listened to what I had to tell. To luncheon there were expected that
day a Monsieur Mezentsov, a French lady, and an Englishman; for,
whenever money was in hand, a banquet in Muscovite style was always
given. Polina Alexandrovna, on seeing me, inquired why I had been so
long away. Then, without waiting for an answer, she departed. Evidently
this was not mere accident, and I felt that I must throw some light
upon matters. It was high time that I did so.

I was assigned a small room on the fourth floor of the hotel (for you
must know that I belonged to the General’s suite). So far as I could
see, the party had already gained some notoriety in the place, which
had come to look upon the General as a Russian nobleman of great
wealth. Indeed, even before luncheon he charged me, among other things,
to get two thousand-franc notes changed for him at the hotel counter,
which put us in a position to be thought millionaires at all events for
a week! Later, I was about to take Mischa and Nadia for a walk when a
summons reached me from the staircase that I must attend the General.
He began by deigning to inquire of me where I was going to take the
children; and as he did so, I could see that he failed to look me in
the eyes. He _wanted_ to do so, but each time was met by me with such a
fixed, disrespectful stare that he desisted in confusion. In pompous
language, however, which jumbled one sentence into another, and at
length grew disconnected, he gave me to understand that I was to lead
the children altogether away from the Casino, and out into the park.
Finally his anger exploded, and he added sharply:

“I suppose you would like to take them to the Casino to play roulette?
Well, excuse my speaking so plainly, but I know how addicted you are to
gambling. Though I am not your mentor, nor wish to be, at least I have
a right to require that you shall not actually _compromise_ me.”

“I have no money for gambling,” I quietly replied.

“But you will soon be in receipt of some,” retorted the General,
reddening a little as he dived into his writing desk and applied
himself to a memorandum book. From it he saw that he had 120 roubles of
mine in his keeping.

“Let us calculate,” he went on. “We must translate these roubles into
thalers. Here—take 100 thalers, as a round sum. The rest will be safe
in my hands.”

In silence I took the money.

“You must not be offended at what I say,” he continued. “You are too
touchy about these things. What I have said I have said merely as a
warning. To do so is no more than my right.”

When returning home with the children before luncheon, I met a
cavalcade of our party riding to view some ruins. Two splendid
carriages, magnificently horsed, with Mlle. Blanche, Maria Philipovna,
and Polina Alexandrovna in one of them, and the Frenchman, the
Englishman, and the General in attendance on horseback! The passers-by
stopped to stare at them, for the effect was splendid—the General could
not have improved upon it. I calculated that, with the 4000 francs
which I had brought with me, added to what my patrons seemed already to
have acquired, the party must be in possession of at least 7000 or 8000
francs—though that would be none too much for Mlle. Blanche, who, with
her mother and the Frenchman, was also lodging in our hotel. The latter
gentleman was called by the lacqueys “Monsieur le Comte,” and Mlle.
Blanche’s mother was dubbed “Madame la Comtesse.” Perhaps in very truth
they _were_ “Comte et Comtesse.”

I knew that “Monsieur le Comte” would take no notice of me when we met
at dinner, as also that the General would not dream of introducing us,
nor of recommending me to the “Comte.” However, the latter had lived
awhile in Russia, and knew that the person referred to as an “uchitel”
is never looked upon as a bird of fine feather. Of course, strictly
speaking, he _knew_ me; but I was an uninvited guest at the
luncheon—the General had forgotten to arrange otherwise, or I should
have been dispatched to dine at the table d’hôte. Nevertheless, I
presented myself in such guise that the General looked at me with a
touch of approval; and, though the good Maria Philipovna was for
showing me my place, the fact of my having previously met the
Englishman, Mr. Astley, saved me, and thenceforward I figured as one of
the company.

This strange Englishman I had met first in Prussia, where we had
happened to sit _vis-à-vis_ in a railway train in which I was
travelling to overtake our party; while, later, I had run across him in
France, and again in Switzerland—twice within the space of two weeks!
To think, therefore, that I should suddenly encounter him again here,
in Roulettenberg! Never in my life had I known a more retiring man, for
he was shy to the pitch of imbecility, yet well aware of the fact (for
he was no fool). At the same time, he was a gentle, amiable sort of an
individual, and, even on our first encounter in Prussia I had contrived
to draw him out, and he had told me that he had just been to the North
Cape, and was now anxious to visit the fair at Nizhni Novgorod. How he
had come to make the General’s acquaintance I do not know, but,
apparently, he was much struck with Polina. Also, he was delighted that
I should sit next him at table, for he appeared to look upon me as his
bosom friend.

During the meal the Frenchman was in great feather: he was discursive
and pompous to every one. In Moscow too, I remembered, he had blown a
great many bubbles. Interminably he discoursed on finance and Russian
politics, and though, at times, the General made feints to contradict
him, he did so humbly, and as though wishing not wholly to lose sight
of his own dignity.

For myself, I was in a curious frame of mind. Even before luncheon was
half finished I had asked myself the old, eternal question: “_Why_ do I
continue to dance attendance upon the General, instead of having left
him and his family long ago?” Every now and then I would glance at
Polina Alexandrovna, but she paid me no attention; until eventually I
became so irritated that I decided to play the boor.

First of all I suddenly, and for no reason whatever, plunged loudly and
gratuitously into the general conversation. Above everything I wanted
to pick a quarrel with the Frenchman; and, with that end in view I
turned to the General, and exclaimed in an overbearing sort of
way—indeed, I think that I actually interrupted him—that that summer it
had been almost impossible for a Russian to dine anywhere at tables
d’hôte. The General bent upon me a glance of astonishment.

“If one is a man of self-respect,” I went on, “one risks abuse by so
doing, and is forced to put up with insults of every kind. Both at
Paris and on the Rhine, and even in Switzerland—there are so many
Poles, with their sympathisers, the French, at these tables d’hôte that
one cannot get a word in edgeways if one happens only to be a Russian.”

This I said in French. The General eyed me doubtfully, for he did not
know whether to be angry or merely to feel surprised that I should so
far forget myself.

“Of course, one always learns _something everywhere_,” said the
Frenchman in a careless, contemptuous sort of tone.

“In Paris, too, I had a dispute with a Pole,” I continued, “and then
with a French officer who supported him. After that a section of the
Frenchmen present took my part. They did so as soon as I told them the
story of how once I threatened to spit into Monsignor’s coffee.”

“To spit into it?” the General inquired with grave disapproval in his
tone, and a stare, of astonishment, while the Frenchman looked at me
unbelievingly.

“Just so,” I replied. “You must know that, on one occasion, when, for
two days, I had felt certain that at any moment I might have to depart
for Rome on business, I repaired to the Embassy of the Holy See in
Paris, to have my passport visaed. There I encountered a sacristan of
about fifty, and a man dry and cold of mien. After listening politely,
but with great reserve, to my account of myself, this sacristan asked
me to wait a little. I was in a great hurry to depart, but of course I
sat down, pulled out a copy of _L’Opinion Nationale_, and fell to
reading an extraordinary piece of invective against Russia which it
happened to contain. As I was thus engaged I heard some one enter an
adjoining room and ask for Monsignor; after which I saw the sacristan
make a low bow to the visitor, and then another bow as the visitor took
his leave. I ventured to remind the good man of my own business also;
whereupon, with an expression of, if anything, increased dryness, he
again asked me to wait. Soon a third visitor arrived who, like myself,
had come on business (he was an Austrian of some sort); and as soon as
ever he had stated his errand he was conducted upstairs! This made me
very angry. I rose, approached the sacristan, and told him that, since
Monsignor was receiving callers, his lordship might just as well finish
off my affair as well. Upon this the sacristan shrunk back in
astonishment. It simply passed his understanding that any insignificant
Russian should dare to compare himself with other visitors of
Monsignor’s! In a tone of the utmost effrontery, as though he were
delighted to have a chance of insulting me, he looked me up and down,
and then said: “Do you suppose that Monsignor is going to put aside his
coffee for _you?_” But I only cried the louder: “Let me tell you that I
am going to _spit_ into that coffee! Yes, and if you do not get me my
passport visaed this very minute, I shall take it to Monsignor myself.”

“What? While he is engaged with a Cardinal?” screeched the sacristan,
again shrinking back in horror. Then, rushing to the door, he spread
out his arms as though he would rather die than let me enter.

Thereupon I declared that I was a heretic and a barbarian—“Je suis
hérétique et barbare,” I said, “and that these archbishops and
cardinals and monsignors, and the rest of them, meant nothing at all to
me. In a word, I showed him that I was not going to give way. He looked
at me with an air of infinite resentment. Then he snatched up my
passport, and departed with it upstairs. A minute later the passport
had been visaed! Here it is now, if you care to see it,”—and I pulled
out the document, and exhibited the Roman visa.

“But—” the General began.

“What really saved you was the fact that you proclaimed yourself a
heretic and a barbarian,” remarked the Frenchman with a smile. “Cela
n’était pas si bête.”

“But is _that_ how Russian subjects ought to be treated? Why, when they
settle here they dare not utter even a word—they are ready even to deny
the fact that they are Russians! At all events, at my hotel in Paris I
received far more attention from the company after I had told them
about the fracas with the sacristan. A fat Polish nobleman, who had
been the most offensive of all who were present at the table d’hôte, at
once went upstairs, while some of the Frenchmen were simply disgusted
when I told them that two years ago I had encountered a man at whom, in
1812, a French ‘hero’ fired for the mere fun of discharging his musket.
That man was then a boy of ten and his family are still residing in
Moscow.”

“Impossible!” the Frenchman spluttered. “No French soldier would fire
at a child!”

“Nevertheless the incident was as I say,” I replied. “A very respected
ex-captain told me the story, and I myself could see the scar left on
his cheek.”

The Frenchman then began chattering volubly, and the General supported
him; but I recommended the former to read, for example, extracts from
the memoirs of General Perovski, who, in 1812, was a prisoner in the
hands of the French. Finally Maria Philipovna said something to
interrupt the conversation. The General was furious with me for having
started the altercation with the Frenchman. On the other hand, Mr.
Astley seemed to take great pleasure in my brush with Monsieur, and,
rising from the table, proposed that we should go and have a drink
together. The same afternoon, at four o’clock, I went to have my
customary talk with Polina Alexandrovna; and, the talk soon extended to
a stroll. We entered the Park, and approached the Casino, where Polina
seated herself upon a bench near the fountain, and sent Nadia away to a
little distance to play with some other children. Mischa also I
dispatched to play by the fountain, and in this fashion we—that is to
say, Polina and myself—contrived to find ourselves alone.

Of course, we began by talking on business matters. Polina seemed
furious when I handed her only 700 gülden, for she had thought to
receive from Paris, as the proceeds of the pledging of her diamonds, at
least 2000 gülden, or even more.

“Come what may, I _must_ have money,” she said. “And get it somehow I
will—otherwise I shall be ruined.”

I asked her what had happened during my absence.

“Nothing; except that two pieces of news have reached us from St.
Petersburg. In the first place, my grandmother is very ill, and
unlikely to last another couple of days. We had this from Timothy
Petrovitch himself, and he is a reliable person. Every moment we are
expecting to receive news of the end.”

“All of you are on the tiptoe of expectation?” I queried.

“Of course—all of us, and every minute of the day. For a
year-and-a-half now we have been looking for this.”

“Looking for it?”

“Yes, looking for it. I am not her blood relation, you know—I am merely
the General’s step-daughter. Yet I am certain that the old lady has
remembered me in her will.”

“Yes, I believe that you _will_ come in for a good deal,” I said with
some assurance.

“Yes, for she is fond of me. But how come you to think so?”

I answered this question with another one. “That Marquis of yours,” I
said, “—is _he_ also familiar with your family secrets?”

“And why are you yourself so interested in them?” was her retort as she
eyed me with dry grimness.

“Never mind. If I am not mistaken, the General has succeeded in
borrowing money of the Marquis.”

“It may be so.”

“Is it likely that the Marquis would have lent the money if he had not
known something or other about your grandmother? Did you notice, too,
that three times during luncheon, when speaking of her, he called her
‘La Baboulenka’?[1]. What loving, friendly behaviour, to be sure!”

 [1] Dear little Grandmother.

“Yes, that is true. As soon as ever he learnt that I was likely to
inherit something from her he began to pay me his addresses. I thought
you ought to know that.”

“Then he has only just begun his courting? Why, I thought he had been
doing so a long while!”

“You _know_ he has not,” retorted Polina angrily. “But where on earth
did you pick up this Englishman?” She said this after a pause.

“I _knew_ you would ask about him!” Whereupon I told her of my previous
encounters with Astley while travelling.

“He is very shy,” I said, “and susceptible. Also, he is in love with
you.”

“Yes, he _is_ in love with me,” she replied.

“And he is ten times richer than the Frenchman. In fact, what does the
Frenchman possess? To me it seems at least doubtful that he possesses
anything at all.”

“Oh, no, there is no doubt about it. He does possess some château or
other. Last night the General told me that for certain. _Now_ are you
satisfied?”

“Nevertheless, in your place I should marry the Englishman.”

“And why?” asked Polina.

“Because, though the Frenchman is the handsomer of the two, he is also
the baser; whereas the Englishman is not only a man of honour, but ten
times the wealthier of the pair.”

“Yes? But then the Frenchman is a marquis, and the cleverer of the
two,” remarked Polina imperturbably.

“Is that so?” I repeated.

“Yes; absolutely.”

Polina was not at all pleased at my questions; I could see that she was
doing her best to irritate me with the brusquerie of her answers. But I
took no notice of this.

“It amuses me to see you grow angry,” she continued. “However, inasmuch
as I allow you to indulge in these questions and conjectures, you ought
to pay me something for the privilege.”

“I consider that I have a perfect right to put these questions to you,”
was my calm retort; “for the reason that I am ready to pay for them,
and also care little what becomes of me.”

Polina giggled.

“Last time you told me—when on the Shlangenberg—that at a word from me
you would be ready to jump down a thousand feet into the abyss. Some
day I may remind you of that saying, in order to see if you will be as
good as your word. Yes, you may depend upon it that I shall do so. I
hate you because I have allowed you to go to such lengths, and I also
hate you and still more—because you are so necessary to me. For the
time being I want you, so I must keep you.”

Then she made a movement to rise. Her tone had sounded very angry.
Indeed, of late her talks with me had invariably ended on a note of
temper and irritation—yes, of real temper.

“May I ask you who is this Mlle. Blanche?” I inquired (since I did not
wish Polina to depart without an explanation).

“You _know_ who she is—just Mlle. Blanche. Nothing further has
transpired. Probably she will soon be Madame General—that is to say, if
the rumours that Grandmamma is nearing her end should prove true. Mlle.
Blanche, with her mother and her cousin, the Marquis, know very well
that, as things now stand, we are ruined.”

“And is the General at last in love?”

“That has nothing to do with it. Listen to me. Take these 700 florins,
and go and play roulette with them. Win as much for me as you can, for
I am badly in need of money.”

So saying, she called Nadia back to her side, and entered the Casino,
where she joined the rest of our party. For myself, I took, in musing
astonishment, the first path to the left. Something had seemed to
strike my brain when she told me to go and play roulette. Strangely
enough, that something had also seemed to make me hesitate, and to set
me analysing my feelings with regard to her. In fact, during the two
weeks of my absence I had felt far more at my ease than I did now, on
the day of my return; although, while travelling, I had moped like an
imbecile, rushed about like a man in a fever, and actually beheld her
in my dreams. Indeed, on one occasion (this happened in Switzerland,
when I was asleep in the train) I had spoken aloud to her, and set all
my fellow-travellers laughing. Again, therefore, I put to myself the
question: “Do I, or do I not love her?” and again I could return myself
no answer or, rather, for the hundredth time I told myself that I
detested her. Yes, I detested her; there were moments (more especially
at the close of our talks together) when I would gladly have given half
my life to have strangled her! I swear that, had there, at such
moments, been a sharp knife ready to my hand, I would have seized that
knife with pleasure, and plunged it into her breast. Yet I also swear
that if, on the Shlangenberg, she had _really_ said to me, “Leap into
that abyss,” I should have leapt into it, and with equal pleasure. Yes,
this I knew well. One way or the other, the thing must soon be ended.
She, too, knew it in some curious way; the thought that I was fully
conscious of her inaccessibility, and of the impossibility of my ever
realising my dreams, afforded her, I am certain, the keenest possible
pleasure. Otherwise, is it likely that she, the cautious and clever
woman that she was, would have indulged in this familiarity and
openness with me? Hitherto (I concluded) she had looked upon me in the
same light that the old Empress did upon her servant—the Empress who
hesitated not to unrobe herself before her slave, since she did not
account a slave a man. Yes, often Polina must have taken me for
something less than a man!”

Still, she had charged me with a commission—to win what I could at
roulette. Yet all the time I could not help wondering _why_ it was so
necessary for her to win something, and what new schemes could have
sprung to birth in her ever-fertile brain. A host of new and unknown
factors seemed to have arisen during the last two weeks. Well, it
behoved me to divine them, and to probe them, and that as soon as
possible. Yet not now: at the present moment I must repair to the
roulette-table.




II


I confess I did not like it. Although I had made up my mind to play, I
felt averse to doing so on behalf of some one else. In fact, it almost
upset my balance, and I entered the gaming rooms with an angry feeling
at my heart. At first glance the scene irritated me. Never at any time
have I been able to bear the flunkeyishness which one meets in the
Press of the world at large, but more especially in that of Russia,
where, almost every evening, journalists write on two subjects in
particular—namely, on the splendour and luxury of the casinos to be
found in the Rhenish towns, and on the heaps of gold which are daily to
be seen lying on their tables. Those journalists are not paid for doing
so: they write thus merely out of a spirit of disinterested
complaisance. For there is nothing splendid about the establishments in
question; and, not only are there no heaps of gold to be seen lying on
their tables, but also there is very little money to be seen at all. Of
course, during the season, _some_ madman or another may make his
appearance—generally an Englishman, or an Asiatic, or a Turk—and (as
had happened during the summer of which I write) win or lose a great
deal; but, as regards the rest of the crowd, it plays only for petty
gülden, and seldom does much wealth figure on the board.

When, on the present occasion, I entered the gaming-rooms (for the
first time in my life), it was several moments before I could even make
up my mind to play. For one thing, the crowd oppressed me. Had I been
playing for myself, I think I should have left at once, and never have
embarked upon gambling at all, for I could feel my heart beginning to
beat, and my heart was anything but cold-blooded. Also, I knew, I had
long ago made up my mind, that never should I depart from Roulettenberg
until some radical, some final, change had taken place in my fortunes.
Thus, it must and would be. However ridiculous it may seem to you that
I was expecting to win at roulette, I look upon the generally accepted
opinion concerning the folly and the grossness of hoping to win at
gambling as a thing even more absurd. For why is gambling a whit worse
than any other method of acquiring money? How, for instance, is it
worse than trade? True, out of a hundred persons, only one can win; yet
what business is that of yours or of mine?

At all events, I confined myself at first simply to looking on, and
decided to attempt nothing serious. Indeed, I felt that, if I began to
do anything at all, I should do it in an absent-minded, haphazard sort
of way—of that I felt certain. Also, it behoved me to learn the game
itself; since, despite a thousand descriptions of roulette which I had
read with ceaseless avidity, I knew nothing of its rules, and had never
even seen it played.

In the first place, everything about it seemed to me so foul—so morally
mean and foul. Yet I am not speaking of the hungry, restless folk who,
by scores nay, even by hundreds—could be seen crowded around the
gaming-tables. For in a desire to win quickly and to win much I can see
nothing sordid; I have always applauded the opinion of a certain dead
and gone, but cocksure, moralist who replied to the excuse that “one
may always gamble moderately”, by saying that to do so makes things
worse, since, in that case, the profits too will always be moderate.

Insignificant profits and sumptuous profits do not stand on the same
footing. No, it is all a matter of proportion. What may seem a small
sum to a Rothschild may seem a large sum to me, and it is not the fault
of stakes or of winnings that everywhere men can be found winning, can
be found depriving their fellows of something, just as they do at
roulette. As to the question whether stakes and winnings are, in
themselves, immoral is another question altogether, and I wish to
express no opinion upon it. Yet the very fact that I was full of a
strong desire to win caused this gambling for gain, in spite of its
attendant squalor, to contain, if you will, something intimate,
something sympathetic, to my eyes: for it is always pleasant to see men
dispensing with ceremony, and acting naturally, and in an unbuttoned
mood....

Yet why should I so deceive myself? I could see that the whole thing
was a vain and unreasoning pursuit; and what, at the first glance,
seemed to me the ugliest feature in this mob of roulette players was
their respect for their occupation—the seriousness, and even the
humility, with which they stood around the gaming tables. Moreover, I
had always drawn sharp distinctions between a game which is _de mauvais
genre_ and a game which is permissible to a decent man. In fact, there
are two sorts of gaming—namely, the game of the gentleman and the game
of the plebs—the game for gain, and the game of the herd. Herein, as
said, I draw sharp distinctions. Yet how essentially base are the
distinctions! For instance, a gentleman may stake, say, five or ten
louis d’or—seldom more, unless he is a very rich man, when he may
stake, say, a thousand francs; but, he must do this simply for the love
of the game itself—simply for sport, simply in order to observe the
process of winning or of losing, and, above all things, as a man who
remains quite uninterested in the possibility of his issuing a winner.
If he wins, he will be at liberty, perhaps, to give vent to a laugh, or
to pass a remark on the circumstance to a bystander, or to stake again,
or to double his stake; but, even this he must do solely out of
curiosity, and for the pleasure of watching the play of chances and of
calculations, and not because of any vulgar desire to win. In a word,
he must look upon the gaming-table, upon roulette, and upon trente et
quarante, as mere relaxations which have been arranged solely for his
amusement. Of the existence of the lures and gains upon which the bank
is founded and maintained he must profess to have not an inkling. Best
of all, he ought to imagine his fellow-gamblers and the rest of the mob
which stands trembling over a coin to be equally rich and gentlemanly
with himself, and playing solely for recreation and pleasure. This
complete ignorance of the realities, this innocent view of mankind, is
what, in my opinion, constitutes the truly aristocratic. For instance,
I have seen even fond mothers so far indulge their guileless, elegant
daughters—misses of fifteen or sixteen—as to give them a few gold coins
and teach them how to play; and though the young ladies may have won or
have lost, they have invariably laughed, and departed as though they
were well pleased. In the same way, I saw our General once approach the
table in a stolid, important manner. A lacquey darted to offer him a
chair, but the General did not even notice him. Slowly he took out his
money bags, and slowly extracted 300 francs in gold, which he staked on
the black, and won. Yet he did not take up his winnings—he left them
there on the table. Again the black turned up, and again he did not
gather in what he had won; and when, in the third round, the _red_
turned up he lost, at a stroke, 1200 francs. Yet even then he rose with
a smile, and thus preserved his reputation; yet I knew that his money
bags must be chafing his heart, as well as that, had the stake been
twice or thrice as much again, he would still have restrained himself
from venting his disappointment.

On the other hand, I saw a Frenchman first win, and then lose, 30,000
francs cheerfully, and without a murmur. Yes; even if a gentleman
should lose his whole substance, he must never give way to annoyance.
Money must be so subservient to gentility as never to be worth a
thought. Of course, the _supremely_ aristocratic thing is to be
entirely oblivious of the mire of rabble, with its setting; but
sometimes a reverse course may be aristocratic to remark, to scan, and
even to gape at, the mob (for preference, through a lorgnette), even as
though one were taking the crowd and its squalor for a sort of raree
show which had been organised specially for a gentleman’s diversion.
Though one may be squeezed by the crowd, one must look as though one
were fully assured of being the observer—of having neither part nor lot
with the observed. At the same time, to stare fixedly about one is
unbecoming; for that, again, is ungentlemanly, seeing that no spectacle
is worth an open stare—are no spectacles in the world which merit from
a gentleman too pronounced an inspection.

However, to me personally the scene _did_ seem to be worth undisguised
contemplation—more especially in view of the fact that I had come there
not only to look at, but also to number myself sincerely and
wholeheartedly with, the mob. As for my secret moral views, I had no
room for them amongst my actual, practical opinions. Let that stand as
written: I am writing only to relieve my conscience. Yet let me say
also this: that from the first I have been consistent in having an
intense aversion to any trial of my acts and thoughts by a moral
standard. Another standard altogether has directed my life....

As a matter of fact, the mob was playing in exceedingly foul fashion.
Indeed, I have an idea that sheer robbery was going on around that
gaming-table. The croupiers who sat at the two ends of it had not only
to watch the stakes, but also to calculate the game—an immense amount
of work for two men! As for the crowd itself—well, it consisted mostly
of Frenchmen. Yet I was not then taking notes merely in order to be
able to give you a description of roulette, but in order to get my
bearings as to my behaviour when I myself should begin to play. For
example, I noticed that nothing was more common than for another’s hand
to stretch out and grab one’s winnings whenever one had won. Then there
would arise a dispute, and frequently an uproar; and it would be a case
of “I beg of you to prove, and to produce witnesses to the fact, that
the stake is yours.”

At first the proceedings were pure Greek to me. I could only divine and
distinguish that stakes were hazarded on numbers, on “odd” or “even,”
and on colours. Polina’s money I decided to risk, that evening, only to
the amount of 100 gülden. The thought that I was not going to play for
myself quite unnerved me. It was an unpleasant sensation, and I tried
hard to banish it. I had a feeling that, once I had begun to play for
Polina, I should wreck my own fortunes. Also, I wonder if any one has
_ever_ approached a gaming-table without falling an immediate prey to
superstition? I began by pulling out fifty gülden, and staking them on
“even.” The wheel spun and stopped at 13. I had lost! With a feeling
like a sick qualm, as though I would like to make my way out of the
crowd and go home, I staked another fifty gülden—this time on the red.
The red turned up. Next time I staked the 100 gülden just where they
lay—and again the red turned up. Again I staked the whole sum, and
again the red turned up. Clutching my 400 gülden, I placed 200 of them
on twelve figures, to see what would come of it. The result was that
the croupier paid me out three times my total stake! Thus from 100
gülden my store had grown to 800! Upon that such a curious, such an
inexplicable, unwonted feeling overcame me that I decided to depart.
Always the thought kept recurring to me that if I had been playing for
myself alone I should never have had such luck. Once more I staked the
whole 800 gülden on the “even.” The wheel stopped at 4. I was paid out
another 800 gülden, and, snatching up my pile of 1600, departed in
search of Polina Alexandrovna.

I found the whole party walking in the park, and was able to get an
interview with her only after supper. This time the Frenchman was
absent from the meal, and the General seemed to be in a more expansive
vein. Among other things, he thought it necessary to remind me that he
would be sorry to see me playing at the gaming-tables. In his opinion,
such conduct would greatly compromise him—especially if I were to lose
much. “And even if you were to _win_ much I should be compromised,” he
added in a meaning sort of way. “Of course I have no _right_ to order
your actions, but you yourself will agree that...” As usual, he did not
finish his sentence. I answered drily that I had very little money in
my possession, and that, consequently, I was hardly in a position to
indulge in any conspicuous play, even if I did gamble. At last, when
ascending to my own room, I succeeded in handing Polina her winnings,
and told her that, next time, I should not play for her.

“Why not?” she asked excitedly.

“Because I wish to play _for myself_,” I replied with a feigned glance
of astonishment. “That is my sole reason.”

“Then are you so certain that your roulette-playing will get us out of
our difficulties?” she inquired with a quizzical smile.

I said very seriously, “Yes,” and then added: “Possibly my certainty
about winning may seem to you ridiculous; yet, pray leave me in peace.”

Nonetheless she insisted that I ought to go halves with her in the
day’s winnings, and offered me 800 gülden on condition that henceforth,
I gambled only on those terms; but I refused to do so, once and for
all—stating, as my reason, that I found myself unable to play on behalf
of any one else, “I am not unwilling so to do,” I added, “but in all
probability I should lose.”

“Well, absurd though it be, I place great hopes on your playing of
roulette,” she remarked musingly; “wherefore, you ought to play as my
partner and on equal shares; wherefore, of course, you will do as I
wish.”

Then she left me without listening to any further protests on my part.




III


On the morrow she said not a word to me about gambling. In fact, she
purposely avoided me, although her old manner to me had not changed:
the same serene coolness was hers on meeting me—a coolness that was
mingled even with a spice of contempt and dislike. In short, she was at
no pains to conceal her aversion to me. That I could see plainly. Also,
she did not trouble to conceal from me the fact that I was necessary to
her, and that she was keeping me for some end which she had in view.
Consequently there became established between us relations which, to a
large extent, were incomprehensible to me, considering her general
pride and aloofness. For example, although she knew that I was madly in
love with her, she allowed me to speak to her of my passion (though she
could not well have showed her contempt for me more than by permitting
me, unhindered and unrebuked, to mention to her my love).

“You see,” her attitude expressed, “how little I regard your feelings,
as well as how little I care for what you say to me, or for what you
feel for me.” Likewise, though she spoke as before concerning her
affairs, it was never with complete frankness. In her contempt for me
there were refinements. Although she knew well that I was aware of a
certain circumstance in her life of something which might one day cause
her trouble, she would speak to me about her affairs (whenever she had
need of me for a given end) as though I were a slave or a passing
acquaintance—yet tell them me only in so far as one would need to know
them if one were going to be made temporary use of. Had I not known the
whole chain of events, or had she not seen how much I was pained and
disturbed by her teasing insistency, she would never have thought it
worthwhile to soothe me with this frankness—even though, since she not
infrequently used me to execute commissions that were not only
troublesome, but risky, she ought, in my opinion, to have been frank in
_any_ case. But, forsooth, it was not worth her while to trouble about
_my_ feelings—about the fact that _I_ was uneasy, and, perhaps, thrice
as put about by her cares and misfortunes as she was herself!

For three weeks I had known of her intention to take to roulette. She
had even warned me that she would like me to play on her behalf, since
it was unbecoming for her to play in person; and, from the tone of her
words I had gathered that there was something on her mind besides a
mere desire to win money. As if money could matter to _her!_ No, she
had some end in view, and there were circumstances at which I could
guess, but which I did not know for certain. True, the slavery and
abasement in which she held me might have given me (such things often
do so) the power to question her with abrupt directness (seeing that,
inasmuch as I figured in her eyes as a mere slave and nonentity, she
could not very well have taken offence at any rude curiosity); but the
fact was that, though she let me question her, she never returned me a
single answer, and at times did not so much as notice me. That is how
matters stood.

Next day there was a good deal of talk about a telegram which, four
days ago, had been sent to St. Petersburg, but to which there had come
no answer. The General was visibly disturbed and moody, for the matter
concerned his mother. The Frenchman, too, was excited, and after dinner
the whole party talked long and seriously together—the Frenchman’s tone
being extraordinarily presumptuous and offhand to everybody. It almost
reminded one of the proverb, “Invite a man to your table, and soon he
will place his feet upon it.” Even to Polina he was brusque almost to
the point of rudeness. Yet still he seemed glad to join us in our walks
in the Casino, or in our rides and drives about the town. I had long
been aware of certain circumstances which bound the General to him; I
had long been aware that in Russia they had hatched some scheme
together although I did not know whether the plot had come to anything,
or whether it was still only in the stage of being talked of. Likewise
I was aware, in part, of a family secret—namely, that, last year, the
Frenchman had bailed the General out of debt, and given him 30,000
roubles wherewith to pay his Treasury dues on retiring from the
service. And now, of course, the General was in a vice—although the
chief part in the affair was being played by Mlle. Blanche. Yes, of
this last I had no doubt.

But _who_ was this Mlle. Blanche? It was said of her that she was a
Frenchwoman of good birth who, living with her mother, possessed a
colossal fortune. It was also said that she was some relation to the
Marquis, but only a distant one a cousin, or cousin-german, or
something of the sort. Likewise I knew that, up to the time of my
journey to Paris, she and the Frenchman had been more ceremonious
towards our party—they had stood on a much more precise and delicate
footing with them; but that now their acquaintanceship—their
friendship, their intimacy—had taken on a much more off-hand and
rough-and-ready air. Perhaps they thought that our means were too
modest for them, and, therefore, unworthy of politeness or reticence.
Also, for the last three days I had noticed certain looks which Astley
had kept throwing at Mlle. Blanche and her mother; and it had occurred
to me that he must have had some previous acquaintance with the pair. I
had even surmised that the Frenchman too must have met Mr. Astley
before. Astley was a man so shy, reserved, and taciturn in his manner
that one might have looked for anything from him. At all events the
Frenchman accorded him only the slightest of greetings, and scarcely
even looked at him. Certainly he did not seem to be afraid of him;
which was intelligible enough. But why did Mlle. Blanche also never
look at the Englishman?—particularly since, _à propos_ of something or
another, the Marquis had declared the Englishman to be immensely and
indubitably rich? Was not that a sufficient reason to make Mlle.
Blanche look at the Englishman? Anyway the General seemed extremely
uneasy; and, one could well understand what a telegram to announce the
death of his mother would mean for him!

Although I thought it probable that Polina was avoiding me for a
definite reason, I adopted a cold and indifferent air; for I felt
pretty certain that it would not be long before she herself approached
me. For two days, therefore, I devoted my attention to Mlle. Blanche.
The poor General was in despair! To fall in love at fifty-five, and
with such vehemence, is indeed a misfortune! And add to that his
widowerhood, his children, his ruined property, his debts, and the
woman with whom he had fallen in love! Though Mlle. Blanche was
extremely good-looking, I may or may not be understood when I say that
she had one of those faces which one is afraid of. At all events, I
myself have always feared such women. Apparently about twenty-five
years of age, she was tall and broad-shouldered, with shoulders that
sloped; yet though her neck and bosom were ample in their proportions,
her skin was dull yellow in colour, while her hair (which was extremely
abundant—sufficient to make two coiffures) was as black as Indian ink.
Add to that a pair of black eyes with yellowish whites, a proud glance,
gleaming teeth, and lips which were perennially pomaded and redolent of
musk. As for her dress, it was invariably rich, effective, and chic,
yet in good taste. Lastly, her feet and hands were astonishing, and her
voice a deep contralto. Sometimes, when she laughed, she displayed her
teeth, but at ordinary times her air was taciturn and
haughty—especially in the presence of Polina and Maria Philipovna. Yet
she seemed to me almost destitute of education, and even of wits,
though cunning and suspicious. This, apparently, was not because her
life had been lacking in incident. Perhaps, if all were known, the
Marquis was not her kinsman at all, nor her mother, her mother; but
there was evidence that, in Berlin, where we had first come across the
pair, they had possessed acquaintances of good standing. As for the
Marquis himself, I doubt to this day if he was a Marquis—although about
the fact that he had formerly belonged to high society (for instance,
in Moscow and Germany) there could be no doubt whatever. What he had
formerly been in France I had not a notion. All I knew was that he was
said to possess a château. During the last two weeks I had looked for
much to transpire, but am still ignorant whether at that time anything
decisive ever passed between Mademoiselle and the General. Everything
seemed to depend upon our means—upon whether the General would be able
to flourish sufficient money in her face. If ever the news should
arrive that the grandmother was not dead, Mlle. Blanche, I felt sure,
would disappear in a twinkling. Indeed, it surprised and amused me to
observe what a passion for intrigue I was developing. But how I loathed
it all! With what pleasure would I have given everybody and everything
the go-by! Only—I could not leave Polina. How, then, could I show
contempt for those who surrounded her? Espionage is a base thing,
but—what have I to do with that?

Mr. Astley, too, I found a curious person. I was only sure that he had
fallen in love with Polina. A remarkable and diverting circumstance is
the amount which may lie in the mien of a shy and painfully modest man
who has been touched with the divine passion—especially when he would
rather sink into the earth than betray himself by a single word or
look. Though Mr. Astley frequently met us when we were out walking, he
would merely take off his hat and pass us by, though I knew he was
dying to join us. Even when invited to do so, he would refuse. Again,
in places of amusement—in the Casino, at concerts, or near the
fountain—he was never far from the spot where we were sitting. In fact,
_wherever_ we were in the Park, in the forest, or on the
Shlangenberg—one needed but to raise one’s eyes and glance around to
catch sight of at least a _portion_ of Mr. Astley’s frame sticking
out—whether on an adjacent path or behind a bush. Yet never did he lose
any chance of speaking to myself; and, one morning when we had met, and
exchanged a couple of words, he burst out in his usual abrupt way,
without saying “Good-morning.”

“That Mlle. Blanche,” he said. “Well, I have seen a good many women
like her.”

After that he was silent as he looked me meaningly in the face. What he
meant I did not know, but to my glance of inquiry he returned only a
dry nod, and a reiterated “It is so.” Presently, however, he resumed:

“Does Mlle. Polina like flowers?”

“I really cannot say,” was my reply.

“What? You cannot say?” he cried in great astonishment.

“No; I have never noticed whether she does so or not,” I repeated with
a smile.

“Hm! Then I have an idea in my mind,” he concluded. Lastly, with a nod,
he walked away with a pleased expression on his face. The conversation
had been carried on in execrable French.




IV


Today has been a day of folly, stupidity, and ineptness. The time is
now eleven o’clock in the evening, and I am sitting in my room and
thinking. It all began, this morning, with my being forced to go and
play roulette for Polina Alexandrovna. When she handed me over her
store of six hundred gülden I exacted two conditions—namely, that I
should not go halves with her in her winnings, if any (that is to say,
I should not take anything for myself), and that she should explain to
me, that same evening, why it was so necessary for her to win, and how
much was the sum which she needed. For, I could not suppose that she
was doing all this merely for the sake of money. Yet clearly she _did_
need some money, and that as soon as possible, and for a special
purpose. Well, she promised to explain matters, and I departed. There
was a tremendous crowd in the gaming-rooms. What an arrogant, greedy
crowd it was! I pressed forward towards the middle of the room until I
had secured a seat at a croupier’s elbow. Then I began to play in timid
fashion, venturing only twenty or thirty gülden at a time. Meanwhile, I
observed and took notes. It seemed to me that calculation was
superfluous, and by no means possessed of the importance which certain
other players attached to it, even though they sat with ruled papers in
their hands, whereon they set down the coups, calculated the chances,
reckoned, staked, and—lost exactly as we more simple mortals did who
played without any reckoning at all.

However, I deduced from the scene one conclusion which seemed to me
reliable—namely, that in the flow of fortuitous chances there is, if
not a system, at all events a sort of order. This, of course, is a very
strange thing. For instance, after a dozen middle figures there would
always occur a dozen or so outer ones. Suppose the ball stopped twice
at a dozen outer figures; it would then pass to a dozen of the first
ones, and then, again, to a dozen of the middle ciphers, and fall upon
them three or four times, and then revert to a dozen outers; whence,
after another couple of rounds, the ball would again pass to the first
figures, strike upon them once, and then return thrice to the middle
series—continuing thus for an hour and a half, or two hours. One,
three, two: one, three, two. It was all very curious. Again, for the
whole of a day or a morning the red would alternate with the black, but
almost without any order, and from moment to moment, so that scarcely
two consecutive rounds would end upon either the one or the other. Yet,
next day, or, perhaps, the next evening, the red alone would turn up,
and attain a run of over two score, and continue so for quite a length
of time—say, for a whole day. Of these circumstances the majority were
pointed out to me by Mr. Astley, who stood by the gaming-table the
whole morning, yet never once staked in person.

For myself, I lost all that I had on me, and with great speed. To begin
with, I staked two hundred gülden on “even,” and won. Then I staked the
same amount again, and won: and so on some two or three times. At one
moment I must have had in my hands—gathered there within a space of
five minutes—about 4000 gülden. That, of course, was the proper moment
for me to have departed, but there arose in me a strange sensation as
of a challenge to Fate—as of a wish to deal her a blow on the cheek,
and to put out my tongue at her. Accordingly I set down the largest
stake allowed by the rules—namely, 4000 gülden—and lost. Fired by this
mishap, I pulled out all the money left to me, staked it all on the
same venture, and—again lost! Then I rose from the table, feeling as
though I were stupefied. What had happened to me I did not know; but,
before luncheon I told Polina of my losses—until which time I walked
about the Park.

At luncheon I was as excited as I had been at the meal three days ago.
Mlle. Blanche and the Frenchman were lunching with us, and it appeared
that the former had been to the Casino that morning, and had seen my
exploits there. So now she showed me more attention when talking to me;
while, for his part, the Frenchman approached me, and asked outright if
it had been my own money that I had lost. He appeared to be suspicious
as to something being on foot between Polina and myself, but I merely
fired up, and replied that the money had been all my own.

At this the General seemed extremely surprised, and asked me whence I
had procured it; whereupon I replied that, though I had begun only with
100 gülden, six or seven rounds had increased my capital to 5000 or
6000 gülden, and that subsequently I had lost the whole in two rounds.

All this, of course, was plausible enough. During my recital I glanced
at Polina, but nothing was to be discerned on her face. However, she
had allowed me to fire up without correcting me, and from that I
concluded that it was my _cue_ to fire up, and to conceal the fact that
I had been playing on her behalf. “At all events,” I thought to myself,
“she, in her turn, has promised to give me an explanation to-night, and
to reveal to me something or another.”

Although the General appeared to be taking stock of me, he said
nothing. Yet I could see uneasiness and annoyance in his face. Perhaps
his straitened circumstances made it hard for him to have to hear of
piles of gold passing through the hands of an irresponsible fool like
myself within the space of a quarter of an hour. Now, I have an idea
that, last night, he and the Frenchman had a sharp encounter with one
another. At all events they closeted themselves together, and then had
a long and vehement discussion; after which the Frenchman departed in
what appeared to be a passion, but returned, early this morning, to
renew the combat. On hearing of my losses, however, he only remarked
with a sharp, and even a malicious, air that “a man ought to go more
carefully.” Next, for some reason or another, he added that, “though a
great many Russians go in for gambling, they are no good at the game.”

“_I_ think that roulette was devised specially for Russians,” I
retorted; and when the Frenchman smiled contemptuously at my reply I
further remarked that I was sure I was right; also that, speaking of
Russians in the capacity of gamblers, I had far more blame for them
than praise—of that he could be quite sure.

“Upon what do you base your opinion?” he inquired.

“Upon the fact that to the virtues and merits of the civilised
Westerner there has become historically added—though this is not his
chief point—a capacity for acquiring capital; whereas, not only is the
Russian incapable of acquiring capital, but also he exhausts it
wantonly and of sheer folly. None the less we Russians often need
money; wherefore, we are glad of, and greatly devoted to, a method of
acquisition like roulette—whereby, in a couple of hours, one may grow
rich without doing any work. This method, I repeat, has a great
attraction for us, but since we play in wanton fashion, and without
taking any trouble, we almost invariably lose.”

“To a certain extent that is true,” assented the Frenchman with a
self-satisfied air.

“Oh no, it is not true,” put in the General sternly. “And you,” he
added to me, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself for traducing your
own country!”

“I beg pardon,” I said. “Yet it would be difficult to say which is the
worst of the two—Russian ineptitude or the German method of growing
rich through honest toil.”

“What an extraordinary idea,” cried the General.

“And what a _Russian_ idea!” added the Frenchman.

I smiled, for I was rather glad to have a quarrel with them.

“I would rather live a wandering life in tents,” I cried, “than bow the
knee to a German idol!”

“To _what_ idol?” exclaimed the General, now seriously angry.

“To the German method of heaping up riches. I have not been here very
long, but I can tell you that what I have seen and verified makes my
Tartar blood boil. Good Lord! I wish for no virtues of that kind.
Yesterday I went for a walk of about ten versts; and, everywhere I
found that things were even as we read of them in good German
picture-books—that every house has its ‘Vater,’ who is horribly
beneficent and extraordinarily honourable. So honourable is he that it
is dreadful to have anything to do with him; and I cannot bear people
of that sort. Each such ‘Vater’ has his family, and in the evenings
they read improving books aloud. Over their roof-trees there murmur
elms and chestnuts; the sun has sunk to his rest; a stork is roosting
on the gable; and all is beautifully poetic and touching. Do not be
angry, General. Let me tell you something that is even more touching
than that. I can remember how, of an evening, my own father, now dead,
used to sit under the lime trees in his little garden, and to read
books aloud to myself and my mother. Yes, I know how things ought to be
done. Yet every German family is bound to slavery and to submission to
its ‘Vater.’ They work like oxen, and amass wealth like Jews. Suppose
the ‘Vater’ has put by a certain number of gülden which he hands over
to his eldest son, in order that the said son may acquire a trade or a
small plot of land. Well, one result is to deprive the daughter of a
dowry, and so leave her among the unwedded. For the same reason, the
parents will have to sell the younger son into bondage or the ranks of
the army, in order that he may earn more towards the family capital.
Yes, such things ARE done, for I have been making inquiries on the
subject. It is all done out of sheer rectitude—out of a rectitude which
is magnified to the point of the younger son believing that he has been
_rightly_ sold, and that it is simply idyllic for the victim to rejoice
when he is made over into pledge. What more have I to tell? Well,
this—that matters bear just as hardly upon the eldest son. Perhaps he
has his Gretchen to whom his heart is bound; but he cannot marry her,
for the reason that he has not yet amassed sufficient gülden. So, the
pair wait on in a mood of sincere and virtuous expectation, and
smilingly deposit themselves in pawn the while. Gretchen’s cheeks grow
sunken, and she begins to wither; until at last, after some twenty
years, their substance has multiplied, and sufficient gülden have been
honourably and virtuously accumulated. Then the ‘Vater’ blesses his
forty-year-old heir and the thirty-five-year-old Gretchen with the
sunken bosom and the scarlet nose; after which he bursts, into tears,
reads the pair a lesson on morality, and dies. In turn the eldest son
becomes a virtuous ‘Vater,’ and the old story begins again. In fifty or
sixty years’ time the grandson of the original ‘Vater’ will have
amassed a considerable sum; and that sum he will hand over to, his son,
and the latter to _his_ son, and so on for several generations; until
at length there will issue a Baron Rothschild, or a ‘Hoppe and
Company,’ or the devil knows what! Is it not a beautiful spectacle—the
spectacle of a century or two of inherited labour, patience, intellect,
rectitude, character, perseverance, and calculation, with a stork
sitting on the roof above it all? What is more; they think there can
never be anything better than this; wherefore, from _their_ point of
view they begin to judge the rest of the world, and to censure all who
are at fault—that is to say, who are not exactly like themselves. Yes,
there you have it in a nutshell. For my own part, I would rather grow
fat after the Russian manner, or squander my whole substance at
roulette. I have no wish to be ‘Hoppe and Company’ at the end of five
generations. I want the money for _myself_, for in no way do I look
upon my personality as necessary to, or meet to be given over to,
capital. I may be wrong, but there you have it. Those are _my_ views.”

“How far you may be right in what you have said I do not know,”
remarked the General moodily; “but I _do_ know that you are becoming an
insufferable _farçeur_ whenever you are given the least chance.”

As usual, he left his sentence unfinished. Indeed, whenever he embarked
upon anything that in the least exceeded the limits of daily
small-talk, he left unfinished what he was saying. The Frenchman had
listened to me contemptuously, with a slight protruding of his eyes;
but, he could not have understood very much of my harangue. As for
Polina, she had looked on with serene indifference. She seemed to have
heard neither my voice nor any other during the progress of the meal.




V


Yes, she had been extraordinarily meditative. Yet, on leaving the
table, she immediately ordered me to accompany her for a walk. We took
the children with us, and set out for the fountain in the Park.

I was in such an irritated frame of mind that in rude and abrupt
fashion I blurted out a question as to “why our Marquis de Griers had
ceased to accompany her for strolls, or to speak to her for days
together.”

“Because he is a brute,” she replied in rather a curious way. It was
the first time that I had heard her speak so of De Griers:
consequently, I was momentarily awed into silence by this expression of
resentment.

“Have you noticed, too, that today he is by no means on good terms with
the General?” I went on.

“Yes—and I suppose you want to know why,” she replied with dry
captiousness. “You are aware, are you not, that the General is
mortgaged to the Marquis, with all his property? Consequently, if the
General’s mother does not die, the Frenchman will become the absolute
possessor of everything which he now holds only in pledge.”

“Then it is really the case that everything is mortgaged? I have heard
rumours to that effect, but was unaware how far they might be true.”

“Yes, they _are_ true. What then?”

“Why, it will be a case of ‘Farewell, Mlle. Blanche,’” I remarked; “for
in such an event she would never become Madame General. Do you know, I
believe the old man is so much in love with her that he will shoot
himself if she should throw him over. At his age it is a dangerous
thing to fall in love.”

“Yes, something, I believe, _will_ happen to him,” assented Polina
thoughtfully.

“And what a fine thing it all is!” I continued. “Could anything be more
abominable than the way in which she has agreed to marry for money
alone? Not one of the decencies has been observed; the whole affair has
taken place without the least ceremony. And as for the grandmother,
what could be more comical, yet more dastardly, than the sending of
telegram after telegram to know if she is dead? What do you think of
it, Polina Alexandrovna?”

“Yes, it is very horrible,” she interrupted with a shudder.
“Consequently, I am the more surprised that _you_ should be so
cheerful. What are _you_ so pleased about? About the fact that you have
gone and lost my money?”

“What? The money that you gave me to lose? I told you I should never
win for other people—least of all for you. I obeyed you simply because
you ordered me to; but you must not blame me for the result. I warned
you that no good would ever come of it. You seem much depressed at
having lost your money. Why do you need it so greatly?”

“Why do _you_ ask me these questions?”

“Because you promised to explain matters to me. Listen. I am certain
that, as soon as ever I ‘begin to play for myself’ (and I still have
120 gülden left), I shall win. You can then take of me what you
require.”

She made a contemptuous grimace.

“You must not be angry with me,” I continued, “for making such a
proposal. I am so conscious of being only a nonentity in your eyes that
you need not mind accepting money from me. A gift from me could not
possibly offend you. Moreover, it was I who lost your gülden.”

She glanced at me, but, seeing that I was in an irritable, sarcastic
mood, changed the subject.

“My affairs cannot possibly interest you,” she said. “Still, if you
_do_ wish to know, I am in debt. I borrowed some money, and must pay it
back again. I have a curious, senseless idea that I am bound to win at
the gaming-tables. Why I think so I cannot tell, but I do think so, and
with some assurance. Perhaps it is because of that assurance that I now
find myself without any other resource.”

“Or perhaps it is because it is so _necessary_ for you to win. It is
like a drowning man catching at a straw. You yourself will agree that,
unless he were drowning he would not mistake a straw for the trunk of a
tree.”

Polina looked surprised.

“What?” she said. “Do not you also hope something from it? Did you not
tell me again and again, two weeks ago, that you were certain of
winning at roulette if you played here? And did you not ask me not to
consider you a fool for doing so? Were you joking? You cannot have
been, for I remember that you spoke with a gravity which forbade the
idea of your jesting.”

“True,” I replied gloomily. “I always felt certain that I should win.
Indeed, what you say makes me ask myself—Why have my absurd, senseless
losses of today raised a doubt in my mind? Yet I am _still_ positive
that, so soon as ever I begin to play for myself, I shall infallibly
win.”

“And why are you so certain?”

“To tell the truth, I do not know. I only know that I _must_ win—that
it is the one resource I have left. Yes, why do I feel so assured on
the point?”

“Perhaps because one cannot help winning if one is fanatically certain
of doing so.”

“Yet I dare wager that you do not think me capable of serious feeling
in the matter?”

“I do not care whether you are so or not,” answered Polina with calm
indifference. “Well, since you ask me, I _do_ doubt your ability to
take anything seriously. You are capable of worrying, but not deeply.
You are too ill-regulated and unsettled a person for that. But why do
you want money? Not a single one of the reasons which you have given
can be looked upon as serious.”

“By the way,” I interrupted, “you say you want to pay off a debt. It
must be a large one. Is it to the Frenchman?”

“What do you mean by asking all these questions? You are very clever
today. Surely you are not drunk?”

“You know that you and I stand on no ceremony, and that sometimes I put
to you very plain questions. I repeat that I am your slave—and slaves
cannot be shamed or offended.”

“You talk like a child. It is always possible to comport oneself with
dignity. If one has a quarrel it ought to elevate rather than to
degrade one.”

“A maxim straight from the copybook! Suppose I _cannot_ comport myself
with dignity. By that I mean that, though I am a man of self-respect, I
am unable to carry off a situation properly. Do you know the reason? It
is because we Russians are too richly and multifariously gifted to be
able at once to find the proper mode of expression. It is all a
question of mode. Most of us are so bounteously endowed with intellect
as to require also a spice of genius to choose the right form of
behaviour. And genius is lacking in us for the reason that so little
genius at all exists. It belongs only to the French—though a few other
Europeans have elaborated their forms so well as to be able to figure
with extreme dignity, and yet be wholly undignified persons. That is
why, with us, the mode is so all-important. The Frenchman may receive
an insult—a real, a venomous insult: yet, he will not so much as frown.
But a tweaking of the nose he cannot bear, for the reason that such an
act is an infringement of the accepted, of the time-hallowed order of
decorum. That is why our good ladies are so fond of Frenchmen—the
Frenchman’s manners, they say, are perfect! But in my opinion there is
no such thing as a Frenchman’s manners. The Frenchman is only a
bird—the _coq gaulois_. At the same time, as I am not a woman, I do not
properly understand the question. Cocks may be excellent birds. If I am
wrong you must stop me. You ought to stop and correct me more often
when I am speaking to you, for I am too apt to say everything that is
in my head.

“You see, I have lost my manners. I agree that I have none, nor yet any
dignity. I will tell you why. I set no store upon such things.
Everything in me has undergone a cheek. You know the reason. I have not
a single human thought in my head. For a long while I have been
ignorant of what is going on in the world—here or in Russia. I have
been to Dresden, yet am completely in the dark as to what Dresden is
like. You know the cause of my obsession. I have no hope now, and am a
mere cipher in your eyes; wherefore, I tell you outright that wherever
I go I see only you—all the rest is a matter of indifference.

“Why or how I have come to love you I do not know. It may be that you
are not altogether fair to look upon. Do you know, I am ignorant even
as to what your face is like. In all probability, too, your heart is
not comely, and it is possible that your mind is wholly ignoble.”

“And because you do not believe in my nobility of soul you think to
purchase me with money?” she said.

“_When_ have I thought to do so?” was my reply.

“You are losing the thread of the argument. If you do not wish to
purchase me, at all events you wish to purchase my respect.”

“Not at all. I have told you that I find it difficult to explain
myself. You are hard upon me. Do not be angry at my chattering. You
know why you ought not to be angry with me—that I am simply an
imbecile. However, I do not mind if you _are_ angry. Sitting in my
room, I need but to think of you, to imagine to myself the rustle of
your dress, and at once I fall almost to biting my hands. Why should
you be angry with me? Because I call myself your slave? Revel, I pray
you, in my slavery—revel in it. Do you know that sometimes I could kill
you?—not because I do not love you, or am jealous of you, but, because
I feel as though I could simply devour you... You are laughing!”

“No, I am not,” she retorted. “But I order you, nevertheless, to be
silent.”

She stopped, well nigh breathless with anger. God knows, she may not
have been a beautiful woman, yet I loved to see her come to a halt like
this, and was therefore, the more fond of arousing her temper. Perhaps
she divined this, and for that very reason gave way to rage. I said as
much to her.

“What rubbish!” she cried with a shudder.

“I do not care,” I continued. “Also, do you know that it is not safe
for us to take walks together? Often I have a feeling that I should
like to strike you, to disfigure you, to strangle you. Are you certain
that it will never come to that? You are driving me to frenzy. Am I
afraid of a scandal, or of your anger? Why should I fear your anger? I
love without hope, and know that hereafter I shall love you a thousand
times more. If ever I should kill you I should have to kill myself too.
But I shall put off doing so as long as possible, for I wish to
continue enjoying the unbearable pain which your coldness gives me. Do
you know a very strange thing? It is that, with every day, my love for
you increases—though that would seem to be almost an impossibility. Why
should I not become a fatalist? Remember how, on the third day that we
ascended the Shlangenberg, I was moved to whisper in your ear: ‘Say but
the word, and I will leap into the abyss.’ Had you said it, I should
have leapt. Do you not believe me?”

“What stupid rubbish!” she cried.

“I care not whether it be wise or stupid,” I cried in return. “I only
know that in your presence I must speak, speak, speak. Therefore, I am
speaking. I lose all conceit when I am with you, and everything ceases
to matter.”

“Why should I have wanted you to leap from the Shlangenberg?” she said
drily, and (I think) with wilful offensiveness. “_That_ would have been
of no use to me.”

“Splendid!” I shouted. “I know well that you must have used the words
‘of no use’ in order to crush me. _I_ can see through you. ‘Of no use,’
did you say? Why, to give pleasure is _always_ of use; and, as for
barbarous, unlimited power—even if it be only over a fly—why, it is a
kind of luxury. Man is a despot by nature, and loves to torture. You,
in particular, love to do so.”

I remember that at this moment she looked at me in a peculiar way. The
fact is that my face must have been expressing all the maze of
senseless, gross sensations which were seething within me. To this day
I can remember, word for word, the conversation as I have written it
down. My eyes were suffused with blood, and the foam had caked itself
on my lips. Also, on my honour I swear that, had she bidden me cast
myself from the summit of the Shlangenberg, I should have done it. Yes,
had she bidden me in jest, or only in contempt and with a spit in my
face, I should have cast myself down.

“Oh no! Why so? I believe you,” she said, but in such a manner—in the
manner of which, at times, she was a mistress—and with such a note of
disdain and viperish arrogance in her tone, that God knows I could have
killed her.

Yes, at that moment she stood in peril. I had not lied to her about
that.

“Surely you are not a coward?” suddenly she asked me.

“I do not know,” I replied. “Perhaps I am, but I do not know. I have
long given up thinking about such things.”

“If I said to you, ‘Kill that man,’ would you kill him?”

“Whom?”

“Whomsoever I wish?”

“The Frenchman?”

“Do not ask me questions; return me answers. I repeat, whomsoever I
wish? I desire to see if you were speaking seriously just now.”

She awaited my reply with such gravity and impatience that I found the
situation unpleasant.

“Do _you_, rather, tell me,” I said, “what is going on here? Why do you
seem half-afraid of me? I can see for myself what is wrong. You are the
step-daughter of a ruined and insensate man who is smitten with love
for this devil of a Blanche. And there is this Frenchman, too, with his
mysterious influence over you. Yet, you actually ask me such a
question! If you do not tell me how things stand, I shall have to put
in my oar and do something. Are you ashamed to be frank with me? Are
you shy of me?”

“I am not going to talk to you on that subject. I have asked you a
question, and am waiting for an answer.”

“Well, then—I will kill whomsoever you wish,” I said. “But are you
_really_ going to bid me do such deeds?”

“Why should you think that I am going to let you off? I shall bid you
do it, or else renounce me. Could you ever do the latter? No, you know
that you couldn’t. You would first kill whom I had bidden you, and then
kill _me_ for having dared to send you away!”

Something seemed to strike upon my brain as I heard these words. Of
course, at the time I took them half in jest and half as a challenge;
yet, she had spoken them with great seriousness. I felt thunderstruck
that she should so express herself, that she should assert such a right
over me, that she should assume such authority and say outright:
“Either you kill whom I bid you, or I will have nothing more to do with
you.” Indeed, in what she had said there was something so cynical and
unveiled as to pass all bounds. For how could she ever regard me as the
same after the killing was done? This was more than slavery and
abasement; it was sufficient to bring a man back to his right senses.
Yet, despite the outrageous improbability of our conversation, my heart
shook within me.

Suddenly, she burst out laughing. We were seated on a bench near the
spot where the children were playing—just opposite the point in the
alley-way before the Casino where the carriages drew up in order to set
down their occupants.

“Do you see that fat Baroness?” she cried. “It is the Baroness
Burmergelm. She arrived three days ago. Just look at her husband—that
tall, wizened Prussian there, with the stick in his hand. Do you
remember how he stared at us the other day? Well, go to the Baroness,
take off your hat to her, and say something in French.”

“Why?”

“Because you have sworn that you would leap from the Shlangenberg for
my sake, and that you would kill any one whom I might bid you kill.
Well, instead of such murders and tragedies, I wish only for a good
laugh. Go without answering me, and let me see the Baron give you a
sound thrashing with his stick.”

“Then you throw me out a challenge?—you think that I will not do it?”

“Yes, I do challenge you. Go, for such is my will.”

“Then I _will_ go, however mad be your fancy. Only, look here: shall
you not be doing the General a great disservice, as well as, through
him, a great disservice to yourself? It is not about myself I am
worrying—it is about you and the General. Why, for a mere fancy, should
I go and insult a woman?”

“Ah! Then I can see that you are only a trifler,” she said
contemptuously. “Your eyes are swimming with blood—but only because you
have drunk a little too much at luncheon. Do I not know that what I
have asked you to do is foolish and wrong, and that the General will be
angry about it? But I want to have a good laugh, all the same. I want
that, and nothing else. Why should you insult a woman, indeed? Well,
you will be given a sound thrashing for so doing.”

I turned away, and went silently to do her bidding. Of course the thing
was folly, but I could not get out of it. I remember that, as I
approached the Baroness, I felt as excited as a schoolboy. I was in a
frenzy, as though I were drunk.




VI


Two days have passed since that day of lunacy. What a noise and a fuss
and a chattering and an uproar there was! And what a welter of
unseemliness and disorder and stupidity and bad manners! And _I_ the
cause of it all! Yet part of the scene was also ridiculous—at all
events to myself it was so. I am not quite sure what was the matter
with me—whether I was merely stupefied or whether I purposely broke
loose and ran amok. At times my mind seems all confused; while at other
times I seem almost to be back in my childhood, at the school desk, and
to have done the deed simply out of mischief.

It all came of Polina—yes, of Polina. But for her, there might never
have been a fracas. Or perhaps I did the deed in a fit of despair
(though it may be foolish of me to think so)? What there is so
attractive about her I cannot think. Yet there _is_ something
attractive about her—something passing fair, it would seem. Others
besides myself she has driven to distraction. She is tall and straight,
and very slim. Her body looks as though it could be tied into a knot,
or bent double, like a cord. The imprint of her foot is long and
narrow. It is, a maddening imprint—yes, simply a maddening one! And her
hair has a reddish tint about it, and her eyes are like cat’s
eyes—though able also to glance with proud, disdainful mien. On the
evening of my first arrival, four months ago, I remember that she was
sitting and holding an animated conversation with De Griers in the
salon. And the way in which she looked at him was such that later, when
I retired to my own room upstairs, I kept fancying that she had smitten
him in the face—that she had smitten him right on the cheek, so
peculiar had been her look as she stood confronting him. Ever since
that evening I have loved her.

But to my tale.

I stepped from the path into the carriage-way, and took my stand in the
middle of it. There I awaited the Baron and the Baroness. When they
were but a few paces distant from me I took off my hat, and bowed.

I remember that the Baroness was clad in a voluminous silk dress, pale
grey in colour, and adorned with flounces and a crinoline and train.
Also, she was short and inordinately stout, while her gross, flabby
chin completely concealed her neck. Her face was purple, and the little
eyes in it had an impudent, malicious expression. Yet she walked as
though she were conferring a favour upon everybody by so doing. As for
the Baron, he was tall, wizened, bony-faced after the German fashion,
spectacled, and, apparently, about forty-five years of age. Also, he
had legs which seemed to begin almost at his chest—or, rather, at his
chin! Yet, for all his air of peacock-like conceit, his clothes sagged
a little, and his face wore a sheepish air which might have passed for
profundity.

These details I noted within a space of a few seconds.

At first my bow and the fact that I had my hat in my hand barely caught
their attention. The Baron only scowled a little, and the Baroness
swept straight on.

“Madame la Baronne,” said I, loudly and distinctly—embroidering each
word, as it were—“j’ai l’honneur d’être votre esclave.”

Then I bowed again, put on my hat, and walked past the Baron with a
rude smile on my face.

Polina had ordered me merely to take off my hat: the bow and the
general effrontery were of my own invention. God knows what instigated
me to perpetrate the outrage! In my frenzy I felt as though I were
walking on air.

“Hein!” ejaculated—or, rather, growled—the Baron as he turned towards
me in angry surprise.

I too turned round, and stood waiting in pseudo-courteous expectation.
Yet still I wore on my face an impudent smile as I gazed at him. He
seemed to hesitate, and his brows contracted to their utmost limits.
Every moment his visage was growing darker. The Baroness also turned in
my direction, and gazed at me in wrathful perplexity, while some of the
passers-by also began to stare at us, and others of them halted
outright.

“Hein!” the Baron vociferated again, with a redoubled growl and a note
of growing wrath in his voice.

“Ja wohl!” I replied, still looking him in the eyes.

“Sind Sie rasend?” he exclaimed, brandishing his stick, and,
apparently, beginning to feel nervous. Perhaps it was my costume which
intimidated him, for I was well and fashionably dressed, after the
manner of a man who belongs to indisputably good society.

“Ja wo-o-ohl!” cried I again with all my might with a longdrawn rolling
of the “ohl” sound after the fashion of the Berliners (who constantly
use the phrase “Ja wohl!” in conversation, and more or less prolong the
syllable “ohl” according as they desire to express different shades of
meaning or of mood).

At this the Baron and the Baroness faced sharply about, and almost fled
in their alarm. Some of the bystanders gave vent to excited
exclamations, and others remained staring at me in astonishment. But I
do not remember the details very well.

Wheeling quietly about, I returned in the direction of Polina
Alexandrovna. But, when I had got within a hundred paces of her seat, I
saw her rise and set out with the children towards the hotel.

At the portico I caught up to her.

“I have perpetrated the—the piece of idiocy,” I said as I came level
with her.

“Have you? Then you can take the consequences,” she replied without so
much as looking at me. Then she moved towards the staircase.

I spent the rest of the evening walking in the park. Thence I passed
into the forest, and walked on until I found myself in a neighbouring
principality. At a wayside restaurant I partook of an omelette and some
wine, and was charged for the idyllic repast a thaler and a half.

Not until eleven o’clock did I return home—to find a summons awaiting
me from the General.

Our party occupied two suites in the hotel; each of which contained two
rooms. The first (the larger suite) comprised a salon and a
smoking-room, with, adjoining the latter, the General’s study. It was
here that he was awaiting me as he stood posed in a majestic attitude
beside his writing-table. Lolling on a divan close by was De Griers.

“My good sir,” the General began, “may I ask you what this is that you
have gone and done?”

“I should be glad,” I replied, “if we could come straight to the point.
Probably you are referring to my encounter of today with a German?”

“With a German? Why, the German was the Baron Burmergelm—a most
important personage! I hear that you have been rude both to him and to
the Baroness?”

“No, I have not.”

“But I understand that you simply terrified them, my good sir?” shouted
the General.

“Not in the least,” I replied. “You must know that when I was in Berlin
I frequently used to hear the Berliners repeat, and repellently
prolong, a certain phrase—namely, ‘Ja wohl!’; and, happening to meet
this couple in the carriage-drive, I found, for some reason or another,
that this phrase suddenly recurred to my memory, and exercised a
rousing effect upon my spirits. Moreover, on the three previous
occasions that I have met the Baroness she has walked towards me as
though I were a worm which could easily be crushed with the foot. Not
unnaturally, I too possess a measure of self-respect; wherefore, on
_this_ occasion I took off my hat, and said politely (yes, I assure you
it was said politely): ‘Madame, j’ai l’honneur d’être votre esclave.’
Then the Baron turned round, and said ‘Hein!’; whereupon I felt moved
to ejaculate in answer ‘Ja wohl!’ Twice I shouted it at him—the first
time in an ordinary tone, and the second time with the greatest
prolonging of the words of which I was capable. That is all.”

I must confess that this puerile explanation gave me great pleasure. I
felt a strong desire to overlay the incident with an even added measure
of grossness; so, the further I proceeded, the more did the gusto of my
proceeding increase.

“You are only making fun of me!” vociferated the General as, turning to
the Frenchman, he declared that my bringing about of the incident had
been gratuitous. De Griers smiled contemptuously, and shrugged his
shoulders.

“Do not think _that_,” I put in. “It was not so at all. I grant you
that my behaviour was bad—I fully confess that it was so, and make no
secret of the fact. I would even go so far as to grant you that my
behaviour might well be called stupid and indecent tomfoolery; but,
_more_ than that it was not. Also, let me tell you that I am very sorry
for my conduct. Yet there is one circumstance which, in my eyes, almost
absolves me from regret in the matter. Of late—that is to say, for the
last two or three weeks—I have been feeling not at all well. That is to
say, I have been in a sick, nervous, irritable, fanciful condition, so
that I have periodically lost control over myself. For instance, on
more than one occasion I have tried to pick a quarrel even with
Monsieur le Marquise here; and, under the circumstances, he had no
choice but to answer me. In short, I have recently been showing signs
of ill-health. Whether the Baroness Burmergelm will take this
circumstance into consideration when I come to beg her pardon (for I
_do_ intend to make her amends) I do not know; but I doubt if she will,
and the less so since, so far as I know, the circumstance is one which,
of late, has begun to be abused in the legal world, in that advocates
in criminal cases have taken to justifying their clients on the ground
that, at the moment of the crime, they (the clients) were unconscious
of what they were doing—that, in short, they were out of health. ‘My
client committed the murder—that is true; but he has no recollection of
having committed it.’ And doctors actually support these advocates by
affirming that there really is such a malady—that there really _can_
arise temporary delusions which make a man remember nothing of a given
deed, or only a half or a quarter of it! But the Baron and Baroness are
members of an older generation, as well as Prussian Junkers and
landowners. To them such a process in the medico-judicial world will be
unknown, and therefore, they are the more unlikely to accept any such
explanation. What is _your_ opinion about it, General?”

“Enough, sir!” he thundered with barely restrained fury. “Enough, I
say! Once and for all I must endeavour to rid myself of you and your
impertinence. To justify yourself in the eyes of the Baron and Baroness
will be impossible. Any intercourse with you, even though it be
confined to a begging of their pardons, they would look upon as a
degradation. I may tell you that, on learning that you formed part of
my household, the Baron approached me in the Casino, and demanded of me
additional satisfaction. Do you understand, then, what it is that you
have entailed upon me—upon _me_, my good sir? You have entailed upon me
the fact of my being forced to sue humbly to the Baron, and to give him
my word of honour that this very day you shall cease to belong to my
establishment!”

“Excuse me, General,” I interrupted, “but did he make an express point
of it that I should ‘cease to belong to your establishment,’ as you
call it?”

“No; I, of my own initiative, thought that I ought to afford him that
satisfaction; and, with it he was satisfied. So we must part, good sir.
It is my duty to hand over to you forty gülden, three florins, as per
the accompanying statement. Here is the money, and here the account,
which you are at liberty to verify. Farewell. From henceforth we are
strangers. From you I have never had anything but trouble and
unpleasantness. I am about to call the landlord, and explain to him
that from tomorrow onwards I shall no longer be responsible for your
hotel expenses. Also I have the honour to remain your obedient
servant.”

I took the money and the account (which was indicted in pencil), and,
bowing low to the General, said to him very gravely:

“The matter cannot end here. I regret very much that you should have
been put to unpleasantness at the Baron’s hands; but, the fault (pardon
me) is your own. How came you to answer for me to the Baron? And what
did you mean by saying that I formed part of your household? I am
merely your family tutor—not a son of yours, nor yet your ward, nor a
person of any kind for whose acts you need be responsible. I am a
judicially competent person, a man of twenty-five years of age, a
university graduate, a gentleman, and, until I met yourself, a complete
stranger to you. Only my boundless respect for your merits restrains me
from demanding satisfaction at your hands, as well as a further
explanation as to the reasons which have led you to take it upon
yourself to answer for my conduct.”

So struck was he with my words that, spreading out his hands, he turned
to the Frenchman, and interpreted to him that I had challenged himself
(the General) to a duel. The Frenchman laughed aloud.

“Nor do I intend to let the Baron off,” I continued calmly, but with
not a little discomfiture at De Griers’ merriment. “And since you,
General, have today been so good as to listen to the Baron’s
complaints, and to enter into his concerns—since you have made yourself
a participator in the affair—I have the honour to inform you that,
tomorrow morning at the latest, I shall, in my own name, demand of the
said Baron a formal explanation as to the reasons which have led him to
disregard the fact that the matter lies between him and myself alone,
and to put a slight upon me by referring it to another person, as
though I were unworthy to answer for my own conduct.”

Then there happened what I had foreseen. The General on hearing of this
further intended outrage, showed the white feather.

“What?” he cried. “Do you intend to go on with this damned nonsense? Do
you not realise the harm that it is doing me? I beg of you not to laugh
at me, sir—not to laugh at me, for we have police authorities here who,
out of respect for my rank, and for that of the Baron... In short, sir,
I swear to you that I will have you arrested, and marched out of the
place, to prevent any further brawling on your part. Do you understand
what I say?” He was almost breathless with anger, as well as in a
terrible fright.

“General,” I replied with that calmness which he never could abide,
“one cannot arrest a man for brawling until he has brawled. I have not
so much as begun my explanations to the Baron, and you are altogether
ignorant as to the form and time which my intended procedure is likely
to assume. I wish but to disabuse the Baron of what is, to me, a
shameful supposition—namely, that I am under the guardianship of a
person who is qualified to exercise control over my free will. It is
vain for you to disturb and alarm yourself.”

“For God’s sake, Alexis Ivanovitch, do put an end to this senseless
scheme of yours!” he muttered, but with a sudden change from a
truculent tone to one of entreaty as he caught me by the hand. “Do you
know what is likely to come of it? Merely further unpleasantness. You
will agree with me, I am sure, that at present I ought to move with
especial care—yes, with very especial care. You cannot be fully aware
of how I am situated. When we leave this place I shall be ready to
receive you back into my household; but, for the time being I— Well, I
cannot tell you all my reasons.” With that he wound up in a despairing
voice: “O Alexis Ivanovitch, Alexis Ivanovitch!”

I moved towards the door—begging him to be calm, and promising that
everything should be done decently and in order; whereafter I departed.

Russians, when abroad, are over-apt to play the poltroon, to watch all
their words, and to wonder what people are thinking of their conduct,
or whether such and such a thing is _comme il faut_. In short, they are
over-apt to cosset themselves, and to lay claim to great importance.
Always they prefer the form of behaviour which has once and for all
become accepted and established. This they will follow slavishly
whether in hotels, on promenades, at meetings, or when on a journey.
But the General had avowed to me that, over and above such
considerations as these, there were circumstances which compelled him
to “move with especial care at present”, and that the fact had actually
made him poor-spirited and a coward—it had made him altogether change
his tone towards me. This fact I took into my calculations, and duly
noted it, for, of course, he _might_ apply to the authorities tomorrow,
and it behoved me to go carefully.

Yet it was not the General but Polina that I wanted to anger. She had
treated me with such cruelty, and had got me into such a hole, that I
felt a longing to force her to beseech me to stop. Of course, my
tomfoolery might compromise her; yet certain other feelings and desires
had begun to form themselves in my brain. If I was never to rank in her
eyes as anything but a nonentity, it would not greatly matter if I
figured as a draggle-tailed cockerel, and the Baron were to give me a
good thrashing; but, the fact was that I desired to have the laugh of
them all, and to come out myself unscathed. Let people see what they
_would_ see. Let Polina, for once, have a good fright, and be forced to
whistle me to heel again. But, however much she might whistle, she
should see that I was at least no draggle-tailed cockerel!


I have just received a surprising piece of news. I have just met our
chambermaid on the stairs, and been informed by her that Maria
Philipovna departed today, by the night train, to stay with a cousin at
Carlsbad. What can that mean? The maid declares that Madame packed her
trunks early in the day. Yet how is it that no one else seems to have
been aware of the circumstance? Or is it that _I_ have been the only
person to be unaware of it? Also, the maid has just told me that, three
days ago, Maria Philipovna had some high words with the General. I
understand, then! Probably the words were concerning Mlle. Blanche.
Certainly something decisive is approaching.




VII


In the morning I sent for the maître d’hôtel, and explained to him
that, in future, my bill was to be rendered to me personally. As a
matter of fact, my expenses had never been so large as to alarm me, nor
to lead me to quit the hotel; while, moreover, I still had 160 gülden
left to me, and—in them—yes, in them, perhaps, riches awaited me. It
was a curious fact, that, though I had not yet won anything at play, I
nevertheless acted, thought, and felt as though I were sure, before
long, to become wealthy—since I could not imagine myself otherwise.

Next, I bethought me, despite the earliness of the hour, of going to
see Mr. Astley, who was staying at the Hôtel de l’Angleterre (a
hostelry at no great distance from our own). But suddenly De Griers
entered my room. This had never before happened, for of late that
gentleman and I had stood on the most strained and distant of terms—he
attempting no concealment of his contempt for me (he even made an
express point of showing it), and I having no reason to desire his
company. In short, I detested him. Consequently, his entry at the
present moment the more astounded me. At once I divined that something
out of the way was on the carpet.

He entered with marked affability, and began by complimenting me on my
room. Then, perceiving that I had my hat in my hands, he inquired
whither I was going so early; and, no sooner did he hear that I was
bound for Mr. Astley’s than he stopped, looked grave, and seemed
plunged in thought.

He was a true Frenchman insofar as that, though he could be lively and
engaging when it suited him, he became insufferably dull and wearisome
as soon as ever the need for being lively and engaging had passed.
Seldom is a Frenchman _naturally_ civil: he is civil only as though to
order and of set purpose. Also, if he thinks it incumbent upon him to
be fanciful, original, and out of the way, his fancy always assumes a
foolish, unnatural vein, for the reason that it is compounded of trite,
hackneyed forms. In short, the natural Frenchman is a conglomeration of
commonplace, petty, everyday positiveness, so that he is the most
tedious person in the world. Indeed, I believe that none but greenhorns
and excessively Russian people feel an attraction towards the French;
for, to any man of sensibility, such a compendium of outworn forms—a
compendium which is built up of drawing-room manners, expansiveness,
and gaiety—becomes at once over-noticeable and unbearable.

“I have come to see you on business,” De Griers began in a very
off-hand, yet polite, tone; “nor will I seek to conceal from you the
fact that I have come in the capacity of an emissary, of an
intermediary, from the General. Having small knowledge of the Russian
tongue, I lost most of what was said last night; but, the General has
now explained matters, and I must confess that—”

“See here, Monsieur de Griers,” I interrupted. “I understand that you
have undertaken to act in this affair as an intermediary. Of course I
am only ‘un utchitel,’ a tutor, and have never claimed to be an
intimate of this household, nor to stand on at all familiar terms with
it. Consequently, I do not know the whole of its circumstances. Yet
pray explain to me this: have you yourself become one of its members,
seeing that you are beginning to take such a part in everything, and
are now present as an intermediary?”

The Frenchman seemed not over-pleased at my question. It was one which
was too outspoken for his taste—and he had no mind to be frank with me.

“I am connected with the General,” he said drily, “partly through
business affairs, and partly through special circumstances. My
principal has sent me merely to ask you to forego your intentions of
last evening. What you contemplate is, I have no doubt, very clever;
yet he has charged me to represent to you that you have not the
slightest chance of succeeding in your end, since not only will the
Baron refuse to receive you, but also he (the Baron) has at his
disposal every possible means for obviating further unpleasantness from
you. Surely you can see that yourself? What, then, would be the good of
going on with it all? On the other hand, the General promises that at
the first favourable opportunity he will receive you back into his
household, and, in the meantime, will credit you with your salary—with
‘vos appointements.’ Surely that will suit you, will it not?”

Very quietly I replied that he (the Frenchman) was labouring under a
delusion; that perhaps, after all, I should not be expelled from the
Baron’s presence, but, on the contrary, be listened to; finally, that I
should be glad if Monsieur de Griers would confess that he was now
visiting me merely in order to see how far I intended to go in the
affair.

“Good heavens!” cried de Griers. “Seeing that the General takes such an
interest in the matter, is there anything very unnatural in his
desiring also to know your plans?”

Again I began my explanations, but the Frenchman only fidgeted and
rolled his head about as he listened with an expression of manifest and
unconcealed irony on his face. In short, he adopted a supercilious
attitude. For my own part, I endeavoured to pretend that I took the
affair very seriously. I declared that, since the Baron had gone and
complained of me to the General, as though I were a mere servant of the
General’s, he had, in the first place, lost me my post, and, in the
second place, treated me like a person to whom, as to one not qualified
to answer for himself, it was not even worth while to speak. Naturally,
I said, I felt insulted at this. Yet, comprehending as I did,
differences of years, of social status, and so forth (here I could
scarcely help smiling), I was not anxious to bring about further scenes
by going personally to demand or to request satisfaction of the Baron.
All that I felt was that I had a right to go in person and beg the
Baron’s and the Baroness’s pardon—the more so since, of late, I had
been feeling unwell and unstrung, and had been in a fanciful condition.
And so forth, and so forth. Yet (I continued) the Baron’s offensive
behaviour to me of yesterday (that is to say, the fact of his referring
the matter to the General) as well as his insistence that the General
should deprive me of my post, had placed me in such a position that I
could not well express my regret to him (the Baron) and to his good
lady, for the reason that in all probability both he and the Baroness,
with the world at large, would imagine that I was doing so merely
because I hoped, by my action, to recover my post. Hence, I found
myself forced to request the Baron to express to me _his own_ regrets,
as well as to express them in the most unqualified manner—to say, in
fact, that he had never had any wish to insult me. After the Baron had
done _that_, I should, for my part, at once feel free to express to
him, whole-heartedly and without reserve, my own regrets. “In short,” I
declared in conclusion, “my one desire is that the Baron may make it
possible for me to adopt the latter course.”

“Oh fie! What refinements and subtleties!” exclaimed De Griers.
“Besides, what have you to express regret for? Confess, Monsieur,
Monsieur—pardon me, but I have forgotten your name—confess, I say, that
all this is merely a plan to annoy the General? Or perhaps, you have
some other and special end in view? Eh?”

“In return you must pardon _me_, mon cher Marquis, and tell me what
_you_ have to do with it.”

“The General—”

“But what of the General? Last night he said that, for some reason or
another, it behoved him to ‘move with especial care at present;’
wherefore, he was feeling nervous. But I did not understand the
reference.”

“Yes, there _do_ exist special reasons for his doing so,” assented De
Griers in a conciliatory tone, yet with rising anger. “You are
acquainted with Mlle. de Cominges, are you not?”

“Mlle. Blanche, you mean?”

“Yes, Mlle. Blanche de Cominges. Doubtless you know also that the
General is in love with this young lady, and may even be about to marry
her before he leaves here? Imagine, therefore, what any scene or
scandal would entail upon him!”

“I cannot see that the marriage scheme need, be affected by scenes or
scandals.”

“Mais le Baron est si irascible—un caractère prussien, vous savez!
Enfin il fera une querelle d’Allemand.”

“I do not care,” I replied, “seeing that I no longer belong to his
household” (of set purpose I was trying to talk as senselessly as
possible). “But is it quite settled that Mlle. is to marry the General?
What are they waiting for? Why should they conceal such a matter—at all
events from ourselves, the General’s own party?”

“I cannot tell you. The marriage is not yet a settled affair, for they
are awaiting news from Russia. The General has business transactions to
arrange.”

“Ah! Connected, doubtless, with madame his mother?”

De Griers shot at me a glance of hatred.

“To cut things short,” he interrupted, “I have complete confidence in
your native politeness, as well as in your tact and good sense. I feel
sure that you will do what I suggest, even if it is only for the sake
of this family which has received you as a kinsman into its bosom and
has always loved and respected you.”

“Be so good as to observe,” I remarked, “that the same family has just
_expelled_ me from its bosom. All that you are saying you are saying
but for show; but, when people have just said to you, ‘Of course we do
not wish to turn you out, yet, for the sake of appearance’s, you must
_permit_ yourself to be turned out,’ nothing can matter very much.”

“Very well, then,” he said, in a sterner and more arrogant tone.
“Seeing that my solicitations have had no effect upon you, it is my
duty to mention that other measures will be taken. There exist here
police, you must remember, and this very day they shall send you
packing. Que diable! To think of a blanc bec like yourself challenging
a person like the Baron to a duel! Do you suppose that you will be
_allowed_ to do such things? Just try doing them, and see if any one
will be afraid of you! The reason why I have asked you to desist is
that I can see that your conduct is causing the General annoyance. Do
you believe that the Baron could not tell his lacquey simply to put you
out of doors?”

“Nevertheless I should not GO out of doors,” I retorted with absolute
calm. “You are labouring under a delusion, Monsieur de Griers. The
thing will be done in far better trim than you imagine. I was just
about to start for Mr. Astley’s, to ask him to be my intermediary—in
other words, my second. He has a strong liking for me, and I do not
think that he will refuse. He will go and see the Baron on MY behalf,
and the Baron will certainly not decline to receive him. Although I am
only a tutor—a kind of subaltern, Mr. Astley is known to all men as the
nephew of a real English lord, the Lord Piebroch, as well as a lord in
his own right. Yes, you may be pretty sure that the Baron will be civil
to Mr. Astley, and listen to him. Or, should he decline to do so, Mr.
Astley will take the refusal as a personal affront to himself (for you
know how persistent the English are?) and thereupon introduce to the
Baron a friend of his own (and he has many friends in a good position).
That being so, picture to yourself the issue of the affair—an affair
which will not quite end as you think it will.”

This caused the Frenchman to bethink him of playing the coward. “Really
things may be as this fellow says,” he evidently thought. “Really he
_might_ be able to engineer another scene.”

“Once more I beg of you to let the matter drop,” he continued in a tone
that was now entirely conciliatory. “One would think that it actually
_pleased_ you to have scenes! Indeed, it is a brawl rather than genuine
satisfaction that you are seeking. I have said that the affair may
prove to be diverting, and even clever, and that possibly you may
attain something by it; yet none the less I tell you” (he said this
only because he saw me rise and reach for my hat) “that I have come
hither also to hand you these few words from a certain person. Read
them, please, for I must take her back an answer.”

So saying, he took from his pocket a small, compact, wafer-sealed note,
and handed it to me. In Polina’s handwriting I read:

“I hear that you are thinking of going on with this affair. You have
lost your temper now, and are beginning to play the fool! Certain
circumstances, however, I may explain to you later. Pray cease from
your folly, and put a check upon yourself. For folly it all is. I have
need of you, and, moreover, you have promised to obey me. Remember the
Shlangenberg. I ask you to be obedient. If necessary, I shall even
_bid_ you be obedient.—Your own

     POLINA.

“_P.S._—If so be that you still bear a grudge against me for what
happened last night, pray forgive me.”

Everything, to my eyes, seemed to change as I read these words. My lips
grew pale, and I began to tremble. Meanwhile, the cursed Frenchman was
eyeing me discreetly and askance, as though he wished to avoid
witnessing my confusion. It would have been better if he had laughed
outright.

“Very well,” I said, “you can tell Mlle. not to disturb herself. But,”
I added sharply, “I would also ask you why you have been so long in
handing me this note? Instead of chattering about trifles, you ought to
have delivered me the missive at once—if you have really come
commissioned as you say.”

“Well, pardon some natural haste on my part, for the situation is so
strange. I wished first to gain some personal knowledge of your
intentions; and, moreover, I did not know the contents of the note, and
thought that it could be given you at any time.”

“I understand,” I replied. “So you were ordered to hand me the note
only in the last resort, and if you could not otherwise appease me? Is
it not so? Speak out, Monsieur de Griers.”

“Perhaps,” said he, assuming a look of great forbearance, but gazing at
me in a meaning way.

I reached for my hat; whereupon he nodded, and went out. Yet on his
lips I fancied that I could see a mocking smile. How could it have been
otherwise?

“You and I are to have a reckoning later, Master Frenchman,” I muttered
as I descended the stairs. “Yes, we will measure our strength
together.” Yet my thoughts were all in confusion, for again something
seemed to have struck me dizzy. Presently the air revived me a little,
and, a couple of minutes later, my brain had sufficiently cleared to
enable two ideas in particular to stand out in it. Firstly, I asked
myself, which of the absurd, boyish, and extravagant threats which I
had uttered at random last night had made everybody so alarmed?
Secondly, what was the influence which this Frenchman appeared to
exercise over Polina? He had but to give the word, and at once she did
as he desired—at once she wrote me a note to beg of me to forbear! Of
course, the relations between the pair had, from the first, been a
riddle to me—they had been so ever since I had first made their
acquaintance. But of late I had remarked in her a strong aversion for,
even a contempt for—him, while, for his part, he had scarcely even
looked at her, but had behaved towards her always in the most churlish
fashion. Yes, I had noted that. Also, Polina herself had mentioned to
me her dislike for him, and delivered herself of some remarkable
confessions on the subject. Hence, he must have got her into his power
somehow—somehow he must be holding her as in a vice.




VIII


All at once, on the Promenade, as it was called—that is to say, in the
Chestnut Avenue—I came face to face with my Englishman.

“I was just coming to see you,” he said; “and you appear to be out on a
similar errand. So you have parted with your employers?”

“How do you know that?” I asked in astonishment. “Is _every one_ aware
of the fact?”

“By no means. Not every one would consider such a fact to be of moment.
Indeed, I have never heard any one speak of it.”

“Then how come you to know it?”

“Because I have had occasion to do so. Whither are you bound? I like
you, and was therefore coming to pay you a visit.”

“What a splendid fellow you are, Mr. Astley!” I cried, though still
wondering how he had come by his knowledge. “And since I have not yet
had my coffee, and you have, in all probability, scarcely tasted yours,
let us adjourn to the Casino Café, where we can sit and smoke and have
a talk.”

The café in question was only a hundred paces away; so, when coffee had
been brought, we seated ourselves, and I lit a cigarette. Astley was no
smoker, but, taking a seat by my side, he prepared himself to listen.

“I do not intend to go away,” was my first remark. “I intend, on the
contrary, to remain here.”

“That I never doubted,” he answered good-humouredly.

It is a curious fact that, on my way to see him, I had never even
thought of telling him of my love for Polina. In fact, I had purposely
meant to avoid any mention of the subject. Nor, during our stay in the
place, had I ever made aught but the scantiest reference to it. You
see, not only was Astley a man of great reserve, but also from the
first I had perceived that Polina had made a great impression upon him,
although he never spoke of her. But now, strangely enough, he had no
sooner seated himself and bent his steely gaze upon me, than, for some
reason or another, I felt moved to tell him everything—to speak to him
of my love in all its phases. For an hour and a half did I discourse on
the subject, and found it a pleasure to do so, even though this was the
first occasion on which I had referred to the matter. Indeed, when, at
certain moments, I perceived that my more ardent passages confused him,
I purposely increased my ardour of narration. Yet one thing I regret:
and that is that I made references to the Frenchman which were a little
over-personal.

Mr. Astley sat without moving as he listened to me. Not a word nor a
sound of any kind did he utter as he stared into my eyes. Suddenly,
however, on my mentioning the Frenchman, he interrupted me, and
inquired sternly whether I did right to speak of an extraneous matter
(he had always been a strange man in his mode of propounding
questions).

“No, I fear not,” I replied.

“And concerning this Marquis and Mlle. Polina you know nothing beyond
surmise?”

Again I was surprised that such a categorical question should come from
such a reserved individual.

“No, I know nothing _for certain_ about them” was my reply.
“No—nothing.”

“Then you have done very wrong to speak of them to me, or even to
imagine things about them.”

“Quite so, quite so,” I interrupted in some astonishment. “I admit
that. Yet that is not the question.” Whereupon I related to him in
detail the incident of two days ago. I spoke of Polina’s outburst, of
my encounter with the Baron, of my dismissal, of the General’s
extraordinary pusillanimity, and of the call which De Griers had that
morning paid me. In conclusion, I showed Astley the note which I had
lately received.

“What do you make of it?” I asked. “When I met you I was just coming to
ask you your opinion. For myself, I could have killed this Frenchman,
and am not sure that I shall not do so even yet.”

“I feel the same about it,” said Mr. Astley. “As for Mlle. Polina—well,
you yourself know that, if necessity drives, one enters into relation
with people whom one simply detests. Even between this couple there may
be something which, though unknown to you, depends upon extraneous
circumstances. For, my own part, I think that you may reassure
yourself—or at all events partially. And as for Mlle. Polina’s
proceedings of two days ago, they were, of course, strange; not because
she can have meant to get rid of you, or to earn for you a thrashing
from the Baron’s cudgel (which for some curious reason, he did not use,
although he had it ready in his hands), but because such proceedings on
the part of such—well, of such a refined lady as Mlle. Polina are, to
say the least of it, unbecoming. But she cannot have guessed that you
would carry out her absurd wish to the letter?”

“Do you know what?” suddenly I cried as I fixed Mr. Astley with my
gaze. “I believe that you have already heard the story from some
one—very possibly from Mlle. Polina herself?”

In return he gave me an astonished stare.

“Your eyes look very fiery,” he said with a return of his former calm,
“and in them I can read suspicion. Now, you have no right whatever to
be suspicious. It is not a right which I can for a moment recognise,
and I absolutely refuse to answer your questions.”

“Enough! You need say no more,” I cried with a strange emotion at my
heart, yet not altogether understanding what had aroused that emotion
in my breast. Indeed, when, where, and how could Polina have chosen
Astley to be one of her confidants? Of late I had come rather to
overlook him in this connection, even though Polina had always been a
riddle to me—so much so that now, when I had just permitted myself to
tell my friend of my infatuation in all its aspects, I had found myself
struck, during the very telling, with the fact that in my relations
with her I could specify nothing that was explicit, nothing that was
positive. On the contrary, my relations had been purely fantastic,
strange, and unreal; they had been unlike anything else that I could
think of.

“Very well, very well,” I replied with a warmth equal to Astley’s own.
“Then I stand confounded, and have no further opinions to offer. But
you are a good fellow, and I am glad to know what you think about it
all, even though I do not need your advice.”

Then, after a pause, I resumed:

“For instance, what reason should you assign for the General taking
fright in this way? Why should my stupid clowning have led the world to
elevate it into a serious incident? Even De Griers has found it
necessary to put in his oar (and he only interferes on the most
important occasions), and to visit me, and to address to me the most
earnest supplications. Yes, _he_, De Griers, has actually been playing
the suppliant to _me!_ And, mark you, although he came to me as early
as nine o’clock, he had ready-prepared in his hand Mlle. Polina’s note.
When, I would ask, was that note written? Mlle. Polina must have been
aroused from sleep for the express purpose of writing it. At all events
the circumstance shows that she is an absolute slave to the Frenchman,
since she actually begs my pardon in the note—actually begs my pardon!
Yet what is her personal concern in the matter? Why is she interested
in it at all? Why, too, is the whole party so afraid of this precious
Baron? And what sort of a business do you call it for the General to be
going to marry Mlle. Blanche de Cominges? He told me last night that,
because of the circumstance, he must ‘move with especial care at
present.’ What is your opinion of it all? Your look convinces me that
you know more about it than I do.”

Mr. Astley smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I think I _do_ know more about it than you do,” he assented. “The
affair centres around this Mlle. Blanche. Of that I feel certain.”

“And what of Mlle. Blanche?” I cried impatiently (for in me there had
dawned a sudden hope that this would enable me to discover something
about Polina).

“Well, my belief is that at the present moment Mlle. Blanche has, in
very truth, a special reason for wishing to avoid any trouble with the
Baron and the Baroness. It might lead not only to some unpleasantness,
but even to a scandal.”

“Oh, oh!”

“Also I may tell you that Mlle. Blanche has been in Roulettenberg
before, for she was staying here three seasons ago. I myself was in the
place at the time, and in those days Mlle. Blanche was not known as
Mlle. de Cominges, nor was her mother, the Widow de Cominges, even in
existence. In any case no one ever mentioned the latter. De Griers,
too, had not materialised, and I am convinced that not only do the
parties stand in no relation to one another, but also they have not
long enjoyed one another’s acquaintance. Likewise, the _Marquisate_ de
Griers is of recent creation. Of that I have reason to be sure, owing
to a certain circumstance. Even the name De Griers itself may be taken
to be a new invention, seeing that I have a friend who once met the
said ‘Marquis’ under a different name altogether.”

“Yet he possesses a good circle of friends?”

“Possibly. Mlle. Blanche also may possess that. Yet it is not three
years since she received from the local police, at the instance of the
Baroness, an invitation to leave the town. And she left it.”

“But why?”

“Well, I must tell you that she first appeared here in company with an
Italian—a prince of some sort, a man who bore an historic name
(Barberini or something of the kind). The fellow was simply a mass of
rings and diamonds—real diamonds, too—and the couple used to drive out
in a marvellous carriage. At first Mlle. Blanche played ‘trente et
quarante’ with fair success, but, later, her luck took a marked change
for the worse. I distinctly remember that in a single evening she lost
an enormous sum. But worse was to ensue, for one fine morning her
prince disappeared—horses, carriage, and all. Also, the hotel bill
which he left unpaid was enormous. Upon this Mlle. Zelma (the name
which she assumed after figuring as Madame Barberini) was in despair.
She shrieked and howled all over the hotel, and even tore her clothes
in her frenzy. In the hotel there was staying also a Polish count (you
must know that ALL travelling Poles are counts!), and the spectacle of
Mlle. Zelma tearing her clothes and, catlike, scratching her face with
her beautiful, scented nails produced upon him a strong impression. So
the pair had a talk together, and, by luncheon time, she was consoled.
Indeed, that evening the couple entered the Casino arm-in-arm—Mlle.
Zelma laughing loudly, according to her custom, and showing even more
expansiveness in her manners than she had before shown. For instance,
she thrust her way into the file of women roulette-players in the exact
fashion of those ladies who, to clear a space for themselves at the
tables, push their fellow-players roughly aside. Doubtless you have
noticed them?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Well, they are not worth noticing. To the annoyance of the decent
public they are allowed to remain here—at all events such of them as
daily change 4000 franc notes at the tables (though, as soon as ever
these women cease to do so, they receive an invitation to depart).
However, Mlle. Zelma continued to change notes of this kind, but her
play grew more and more unsuccessful, despite the fact that such
ladies’ luck is frequently good, for they have a surprising amount of
cash at their disposal. Suddenly, the Count too disappeared, even as
the Prince had done, and that same evening Mlle. Zelma was forced to
appear in the Casino alone. On this occasion no one offered her a
greeting. Two days later she had come to the end of her resources;
whereupon, after staking and losing her last louis d’or she chanced to
look around her, and saw standing by her side the Baron Burmergelm, who
had been eyeing her with fixed disapproval. To his distaste, however,
Mlle. paid no attention, but, turning to him with her well-known smile,
requested him to stake, on her behalf, ten louis on the red. Later that
evening a complaint from the Baroness led the authorities to request
Mlle. not to re-enter the Casino. If you feel in any way surprised that
I should know these petty and unedifying details, the reason is that I
had them from a relative of mine who, later that evening, drove Mlle.
Zelma in his carriage from Roulettenberg to Spa. Now, mark you, Mlle.
wants to become Madame General, in order that, in future, she may be
spared the receipt of such invitations from Casino authorities as she
received three years ago. At present she is not playing; but that is
only because, according to the signs, she is lending money to other
players. Yes, that is a much more paying game. I even suspect that the
unfortunate General is himself in her debt, as well as, perhaps, also
De Griers. Or, it may be that the latter has entered into a partnership
with her. Consequently you yourself will see that, until the marriage
shall have been consummated, Mlle. would scarcely like to have the
attention of the Baron and the Baroness drawn to herself. In short, to
any one in her position, a scandal would be most detrimental. You form
a member of the ménage of these people; wherefore, any act of yours
might cause such a scandal—and the more so since daily she appears in
public arm in arm with the General or with Mlle. Polina. _Now_ do you
understand?”

“No, I do not!” I shouted as I banged my fist down upon the
table—banged it with such violence that a frightened waiter came
running towards us. “Tell me, Mr. Astley, why, if you knew this history
all along, and, consequently, always knew who this Mlle. Blanche is,
you never warned either myself or the General, nor, most of all, Mlle.
Polina” (who is accustomed to appear in the Casino—in public everywhere
with Mlle. Blanche). “How could you do it?”

“It would have done no good to warn you,” he replied quietly, “for the
reason that you could have effected nothing. Against what was I to warn
you? As likely as not, the General knows more about Mlle. Blanche even
than I do; yet the unhappy man still walks about with her and Mlle.
Polina. Only yesterday I saw this Frenchwoman riding, splendidly
mounted, with De Griers, while the General was careering in their wake
on a roan horse. He had said, that morning, that his legs were hurting
him, yet his riding-seat was easy enough. As he passed I looked at him,
and the thought occurred to me that he was a man lost for ever.
However, it is no affair of mine, for I have only recently had the
happiness to make Mlle. Polina’s acquaintance. Also”—he added this as
an afterthought—“I have already told you that I do not recognise your
right to ask me certain questions, however sincere be my liking for
you.”

“Enough,” I said, rising. “To me it is as clear as day that Mlle.
Polina knows all about this Mlle. Blanche, but cannot bring herself to
part with her Frenchman; wherefore, she consents also to be seen in
public with Mlle. Blanche. You may be sure that nothing else would ever
have induced her either to walk about with this Frenchwoman or to send
me a note not to touch the Baron. Yes, it is _there_ that the influence
lies before which everything in the world must bow! Yet she herself it
was who launched me at the Baron! The devil take it, but I was left no
choice in the matter.”

“You forget, in the first place, that this Mlle. de Cominges is the
General’s inamorata, and, in the second place, that Mlle. Polina, the
General’s step-daughter, has a younger brother and sister who, though
they are the General’s own children, are completely neglected by this
madman, and robbed as well.”

“Yes, yes; that is so. For me to go and desert the children now would
mean their total abandonment; whereas, if I remain, I should be able to
defend their interests, and, perhaps, to save a moiety of their
property. Yes, yes; that is quite true. And yet, and yet—Oh, I can well
understand why they are all so interested in the General’s mother!”

“In whom?” asked Mr. Astley.

“In the old woman of Moscow who declines to die, yet concerning whom
they are for ever expecting telegrams to notify the fact of her death.”

“Ah, then of course their interests centre around her. It is a question
of succession. Let that but be settled, and the General will marry,
Mlle. Polina will be set free, and De Griers—”

“Yes, and De Griers?”

“Will be repaid his money, which is what he is now waiting for.”

“What? You think that he is waiting for _that?_”

“I know of nothing else,” asserted Mr. Astley doggedly.

“But, I do, I do!” I shouted in my fury. “He is waiting also for the
old woman’s will, for the reason that it awards Mlle. Polina a dowry.
As soon as ever the money is received, she will throw herself upon the
Frenchman’s neck. All women are like that. Even the proudest of them
become abject slaves where marriage is concerned. What Polina is good
for is to fall head over ears in love. That is _my_ opinion. Look at
her—especially when she is sitting alone, and plunged in thought. All
this was pre-ordained and foretold, and is accursed. Polina could
perpetrate any mad act. She—she—But who called me by name?” I broke
off. “Who is shouting for me? I heard some one calling in Russian,
‘Alexis Ivanovitch!’ It was a woman’s voice. Listen!”

At the moment, we were approaching my hotel. We had left the café long
ago, without even noticing that we had done so.

“Yes, I _did_ hear a woman’s voice calling, but whose I do not know.
The someone was calling you in Russian. Ah! NOW I can see whence the
cries come. They come from that lady there—the one who is sitting on
the settee, the one who has just been escorted to the verandah by a
crowd of lacqueys. Behind her see that pile of luggage! She must have
arrived by train.”

“But why should she be calling _me?_ Hear her calling again! See! She
is beckoning to us!”

“Yes, so she is,” assented Mr. Astley.

“Alexis Ivanovitch, Alexis Ivanovitch! Good heavens, what a stupid
fellow!” came in a despairing wail from the verandah.

We had almost reached the portico, and I was just setting foot upon the
space before it, when my hands fell to my sides in limp astonishment,
and my feet glued themselves to the pavement!




IX


For on the topmost tier of the hotel verandah, after being carried up
the steps in an armchair amid a bevy of footmen, maid-servants, and
other menials of the hotel, headed by the landlord (that functionary
had actually run out to meet a visitor who arrived with so much stir
and din, attended by her own retinue, and accompanied by so great a
pile of trunks and portmanteaux)—on the topmost tier of the verandah, I
say, there was sitting—_the grandmother!_ Yes, it was _she_—rich, and
imposing, and seventy-five years of age—Antonida Vassilievna
Tarassevitcha, landowner and _grande dame_ of Moscow—the “La
Baboulenka” who had caused so many telegrams to be sent off and
received—who had been dying, yet not dying—who had, in her own person,
descended upon us even as snow might fall from the clouds! Though
unable to walk, she had arrived borne aloft in an armchair (her mode of
conveyance for the last five years), as brisk, aggressive,
self-satisfied, bolt-upright, loudly imperious, and generally abusive
as ever. In fact, she looked exactly as she had on the only two
occasions when I had seen her since my appointment to the General’s
household. Naturally enough, I stood petrified with astonishment. She
had sighted me a hundred paces off! Even while she was being carried
along in her chair she had recognised me, and called me by name and
surname (which, as usual, after hearing once, she had remembered ever
afterwards).

“And this is the woman whom they had thought to see in her grave after
making her will!” I thought to myself. “Yet she will outlive us, and
every one else in the hotel. Good Lord! what is going to become of us
now? What on earth is to happen to the General? She will turn the place
upside down!”

“My good sir,” the old woman continued in a stentorian voice, “what are
you standing _there_ for, with your eyes almost falling out of your
head? Cannot you come and say how-do-you-do? Are you too proud to shake
hands? Or do you not recognise me? Here, Potapitch!” she cried to an
old servant who, dressed in a frock coat and white waistcoat, had a
bald, red head (he was the chamberlain who always accompanied her on
her journeys). “Just think! Alexis Ivanovitch does not recognise me!
They have buried me for good and all! Yes, and after sending hosts of
telegrams to know if I were dead or not! Yes, yes, I have heard the
whole story. I am very much alive, though, as you may see.”

“Pardon me, Antonida Vassilievna,” I replied good humouredly as I
recovered my presence of mind. “_I_ have no reason to wish you ill. I
am merely rather astonished to see you. Why should I not be so, seeing
how unexpected—”

“_Why_ should you be astonished? I just got into my chair, and came.
Things are quiet enough in the train, for there is no one there to
chatter. Have you been out for a walk?”

“Yes. I have just been to the Casino.”

“Oh? Well, it is quite nice here,” she went on as she looked about her.
“The place seems comfortable, and all the trees are out. I like it very
well. Are your people at home? Is the General, for instance, indoors?”

“Yes; and probably all of them.”

“Do they observe the convenances, and keep up appearances? Such things
always give one tone. I have heard that they are keeping a carriage,
even as Russian gentlefolks ought to do. When abroad, our Russian
people always cut a dash. Is Prascovia here too?”

“Yes. Polina Alexandrovna is here.”

“And the Frenchwoman? However, I will go and look for them myself. Tell
me the nearest way to their rooms. Do _you_ like being here?”

“Yes, I thank you, Antonida Vassilievna.”

“And you, Potapitch, you go and tell that fool of a landlord to reserve
me a suitable suite of rooms. They must be handsomely decorated, and
not too high up. Have my luggage taken up to them. But what are you
tumbling over yourselves for? Why are you all tearing about? What
scullions these fellows are!—Who is that with you?” she added to
myself.

“A Mr. Astley,” I replied.

“And who is Mr. Astley?”

“A fellow-traveller, and my very good friend, as well as an
acquaintance of the General’s.”

“Oh, an Englishman? Then that is why he stared at me without even
opening his lips. However, I like Englishmen. Now, take me upstairs,
direct to their rooms. Where are they lodging?”

Madame was lifted up in her chair by the lacqueys, and I preceded her
up the grand staircase. Our progress was exceedingly effective, for
everyone whom we met stopped to stare at the cortège. It happened that
the hotel had the reputation of being the best, the most expensive, and
the most aristocratic in all the spa, and at every turn on the
staircase or in the corridors we encountered fine ladies and
important-looking Englishmen—more than one of whom hastened downstairs
to inquire of the awestruck landlord who the newcomer was. To all such
questions he returned the same answer—namely, that the old lady was an
influential foreigner, a Russian, a Countess, and a _grande dame_, and
that she had taken the suite which, during the previous week, had been
tenanted by the Grande Duchesse de N.

Meanwhile the cause of the sensation—the Grandmother—was being borne
aloft in her armchair. Every person whom she met she scanned with an
inquisitive eye, after first of all interrogating me about him or her
at the top of her voice. She was stout of figure, and, though she could
not leave her chair, one felt, the moment that one first looked at her,
that she was also tall of stature. Her back was as straight as a board,
and never did she lean back in her seat. Also, her large grey head,
with its keen, rugged features, remained always erect as she glanced
about her in an imperious, challenging sort of way, with looks and
gestures that clearly were unstudied. Though she had reached her
seventy-sixth year, her face was still fresh, and her teeth had not
decayed. Lastly, she was dressed in a black silk gown and white mobcap.

“She interests me tremendously,” whispered Mr. Astley as, still
smoking, he walked by my side. Meanwhile I was reflecting that probably
the old lady knew all about the telegrams, and even about De Griers,
though little or nothing about Mlle. Blanche. I said as much to Mr.
Astley.

But what a frail creature is man! No sooner was my first surprise
abated than I found myself rejoicing in the shock which we were about
to administer to the General. So much did the thought inspire me that I
marched ahead in the gayest of fashions.

Our party was lodging on the third floor. Without knocking at the door,
or in any way announcing our presence, I threw open the portals, and
the Grandmother was borne through them in triumph. As though of set
purpose, the whole party chanced at that moment to be assembled in the
General’s study. The time was eleven o’clock, and it seemed that an
outing of some sort (at which a portion of the party were to drive in
carriages, and others to ride on horseback, accompanied by one or two
extraneous acquaintances) was being planned. The General was present,
and also Polina, the children, the latter’s nurses, De Griers, Mlle.
Blanche (attired in a riding-habit), her mother, the young Prince, and
a learned German whom I beheld for the first time. Into the midst of
this assembly the lacqueys conveyed Madame in her chair, and set her
down within three paces of the General!

Good heavens! Never shall I forget the spectacle which ensued! Just
before our entry, the General had been holding forth to the company,
with De Griers in support of him. I may also mention that, for the last
two or three days, Mlle. Blanche and De Griers had been making a great
deal of the young Prince, under the very nose of the poor General. In
short, the company, though decorous and conventional, was in a gay,
familiar mood. But no sooner did the Grandmother appear than the
General stopped dead in the middle of a word, and, with jaw dropping,
stared hard at the old lady—his eyes almost starting out of his head,
and his expression as spellbound as though he had just seen a basilisk.
In return, the Grandmother stared at him silently and without
moving—though with a look of mingled challenge, triumph, and ridicule
in her eyes. For ten seconds did the pair remain thus eyeing one
another, amid the profound silence of the company; and even De Griers
sat petrified—an extraordinary look of uneasiness dawning on his face.
As for Mlle. Blanche, she too stared wildly at the Grandmother, with
eyebrows raised and her lips parted—while the Prince and the German
savant contemplated the tableau in profound amazement. Only Polina
looked anything but perplexed or surprised. Presently, however, she too
turned as white as a sheet, and then reddened to her temples. Truly the
Grandmother’s arrival seemed to be a catastrophe for everybody! For my
own part, I stood looking from the Grandmother to the company, and back
again, while Mr. Astley, as usual, remained in the background, and
gazed calmly and decorously at the scene.

“Well, here I am—and instead of a telegram, too!” the Grandmother at
last ejaculated, to dissipate the silence. “What? You were not
expecting me?”

“Antonida Vassilievna! O my dearest mother! But how on earth did you,
did you—?” The mutterings of the unhappy General died away.

I verily believe that if the Grandmother had held her tongue a few
seconds longer she would have had a stroke.

“How on earth did I _what?_” she exclaimed. “Why, I just got into the
train and came here. What else is the railway meant for? But you
thought that I had turned up my toes and left my property to the lot of
you. Oh, I know _all_ about the telegrams which you have been
dispatching. They must have cost you a pretty sum, I should think, for
telegrams are not sent from abroad for nothing. Well, I picked up my
heels, and came here. Who is this Frenchman? Monsieur de Griers, I
suppose?”

“Oui, madame,” assented De Griers. “Et, croyez, je suis si enchanté!
Votre santé—c’est un miracle vous voir ici. Une surprise charmante!”

“Just so. ‘Charmante!’ I happen to know you as a mountebank, and
therefore trust you no more than _this_.” She indicated her little
finger. “And who is _that?_” she went on, turning towards Mlle.
Blanche. Evidently the Frenchwoman looked so becoming in her
riding-habit, with her whip in her hand, that she had made an
impression upon the old lady. “Who is that woman there?”

“Mlle. de Cominges,” I said. “And this is her mother, Madame de
Cominges. They also are staying in the hotel.”

“Is the daughter married?” asked the old lady, without the least
semblance of ceremony.

“No,” I replied as respectfully as possible, but under my breath.

“Is she good company?”

I failed to understand the question.

“I mean, is she or is she not a bore? Can she speak Russian? When this
De Griers was in Moscow he soon learnt to make himself understood.”

I explained to the old lady that Mlle. Blanche had never visited
Russia.

“Bonjour, then,” said Madame, with sudden brusquerie.

“Bonjour, madame,” replied Mlle. Blanche with an elegant, ceremonious
bow as, under cover of an unwonted modesty, she endeavoured to express,
both in face and figure, her extreme surprise at such strange behaviour
on the part of the Grandmother.

“How the woman sticks out her eyes at me! How she mows and minces!” was
the Grandmother’s comment. Then she turned suddenly to the General, and
continued: “I have taken up my abode here, so am going to be your
next-door neighbour. Are you glad to hear that, or are you not?”

“My dear mother, believe me when I say that I am sincerely delighted,”
returned the General, who had now, to a certain extent, recovered his
senses; and inasmuch as, when occasion arose, he could speak with
fluency, gravity, and a certain effect, he set himself to be expansive
in his remarks, and went on: “We have been so dismayed and upset by the
news of your indisposition! We had received such hopeless telegrams
about you! Then suddenly—”

“Fibs, fibs!” interrupted the Grandmother.

“How on earth, too, did you come to decide upon the journey?” continued
the General, with raised voice as he hurried to overlook the old lady’s
last remark. “Surely, at your age, and in your present state of health,
the thing is so unexpected that our surprise is at least intelligible.
However, I am glad to see you (as indeed, are we all”—he said this with
a dignified, yet conciliatory, smile), “and will use my best endeavours
to render your stay here as pleasant as possible.”

“Enough! All this is empty chatter. You are talking the usual nonsense.
I shall know quite well how to spend my time. How did I come to
undertake the journey, you ask? Well, is there anything so very
surprising about it? It was done quite simply. What is every one going
into ecstasies about?—How do you do, Prascovia? What are _you_ doing
here?”

“And how are _you_, Grandmother?” replied Polina, as she approached the
old lady. “Were you long on the journey?”

“The most sensible question that I have yet been asked! Well, you shall
hear for yourself how it all happened. I lay and lay, and was doctored
and doctored, until at last I drove the physicians from me, and called
in an apothecary from Nicolai who had cured an old woman of a malady
similar to my own—cured her merely with a little hayseed. Well, he did
me a great deal of good, for on the third day I broke into a sweat, and
was able to leave my bed. Then my German doctors held another
consultation, put on their spectacles, and told me that if I would go
abroad, and take a course of the waters, the indisposition would
finally pass away. ‘Why should it not?’ I thought to myself. So I had
got things ready, and on the following day, a Friday, set out for here.
I occupied a special compartment in the train, and where ever I had to
change I found at the station bearers who were ready to carry me for a
few coppers. You have nice quarters here,” she went on as she glanced
around the room. “But where on earth did you get the money for them, my
good sir? I thought that everything of yours had been mortgaged? This
Frenchman alone must be your creditor for a good deal. Oh, I know all
about it, all about it.”

“I-I am surprised at you, my dearest mother,” said the General in some
confusion. “I-I am greatly surprised. But I do not need any extraneous
control of my finances. Moreover, my expenses do not exceed my income,
and we—”

“They do not exceed it? Fie! Why, you are robbing your children of
their last kopeck—you, their guardian!”

“After this,” said the General, completely taken aback, “—after what
you have just said, I do not know whether—”

“You do not know _what?_ By heavens, are you _never_ going to drop that
roulette of yours? Are you going to whistle all your property away?”

This made such an impression upon the General that he almost choked
with fury.

“Roulette, indeed? _I_ play roulette? Really, in view of my
position—Recollect what you are saying, my dearest mother. You must
still be unwell.”

“Rubbish, rubbish!” she retorted. “The truth is that you _cannot_ be
got away from that roulette. You are simply telling lies. This very day
I mean to go and see for myself what roulette is like. Prascovia, tell
me what there is to be seen here; and do you, Alexis Ivanovitch, show
me everything; and do you, Potapitch, make me a list of excursions.
What _is_ there to be seen?” again she inquired of Polina.

“There is a ruined castle, and the Shlangenberg.”

“The Shlangenberg? What is it? A forest?”

“No, a mountain on the summit of which there is a place fenced off.
From it you can get a most beautiful view.”

“Could a chair be carried up that mountain of yours?”

“Doubtless we could find bearers for the purpose,” I interposed.

At this moment Theodosia, the nursemaid, approached the old lady with
the General’s children.

“No, I _don’t_ want to see them,” said the Grandmother. “I hate kissing
children, for their noses are always wet. How are you getting on,
Theodosia?”

“I am very well, thank you, Madame,” replied the nursemaid. “And how is
your ladyship? We have been feeling so anxious about you!”

“Yes, I know, you simple soul—But who are those other guests?” the old
lady continued, turning again to Polina. “For instance, who is that old
rascal in the spectacles?”

“Prince Nilski, Grandmamma,” whispered Polina.

“Oh, a Russian? Why, I had no idea that he could understand me! Surely
he did not hear what I said? As for Mr. Astley, I have seen him
already, and I see that he is here again. How do you do?” she added to
the gentleman in question.

Mr. Astley bowed in silence.

“Have you _nothing_ to say to me?” the old lady went on. “Say
something, for goodness’ sake! Translate to him, Polina.”

Polina did so.

“I have only to say,” replied Mr. Astley gravely, but also with
alacrity, “that I am indeed glad to see you in such good health.” This
was interpreted to the Grandmother, and she seemed much gratified.

“How well English people know how to answer one!” she remarked. “That
is why I like them so much better than French. Come here,” she added to
Mr. Astley. “I will try not to bore you too much. Polina, translate to
him that I am staying in rooms on a lower floor. Yes, on a lower
floor,” she repeated to Astley, pointing downwards with her finger.

Astley looked pleased at receiving the invitation.

Next, the old lady scanned Polina, from head to foot with minute
attention.

“I could almost have liked you, Prascovia,” suddenly she remarked, “for
you are a nice girl—the best of the lot. You have some character about
you. I too have character. Turn round. Surely that is not false hair
that you are wearing?”

“No, Grandmamma. It is my own.”

“Well, well. I do not like the stupid fashions of today. You are very
good looking. I should have fallen in love with you if I had been a
man. Why do you not get married? It is time now that I was going. I
want to walk, yet I always have to ride. Are you still in a bad
temper?” she added to the General.

“No, indeed,” rejoined the now mollified General.

“I quite understand that at your time of life—”

“Cette vieille est tombée en enfance,” De Griers whispered to me.

“But I want to look round a little,” the old lady added to the General.
Will you lend me Alexis Ivanovitch for the purpose?

“As much as you like. But I myself—yes, and Polina and Monsieur de
Griers too—we all of us hope to have the pleasure of escorting you.”

“Mais, madame, cela sera un plaisir,” De Griers commented with a
bewitching smile.

“‘Plaisir’ indeed! Why, I look upon you as a perfect fool, monsieur.”
Then she remarked to the General: “I am not going to let you have any
of my money. I must be off to my rooms now, to see what they are like.
Afterwards we will look round a little. Lift me up.”

Again the Grandmother was borne aloft and carried down the staircase
amid a perfect bevy of followers—the General walking as though he had
been hit over the head with a cudgel, and De Griers seeming to be
plunged in thought. Endeavouring to be left behind, Mlle. Blanche next
thought better of it, and followed the rest, with the Prince in her
wake. Only the German savant and Madame de Cominges did not leave the
General’s apartments.




X


At spas—and, probably, all over Europe—hotel landlords and managers are
guided in their allotment of rooms to visitors, not so much by the
wishes and requirements of those visitors, as by their personal
estimate of the same. It may also be said that these landlords and
managers seldom make a mistake. To the Grandmother, however, our
landlord, for some reason or another, allotted such a sumptuous suite
that he fairly overreached himself; for he assigned her a suite
consisting of four magnificently appointed rooms, with bathroom,
servants’ quarters, a separate room for her maid, and so on. In fact,
during the previous week the suite had been occupied by no less a
personage than a Grand Duchess: which circumstance was duly explained
to the new occupant, as an excuse for raising the price of these
apartments. The Grandmother had herself carried—or, rather,
wheeled—through each room in turn, in order that she might subject the
whole to a close and attentive scrutiny; while the landlord—an elderly,
bald-headed man—walked respectfully by her side.

What every one took the Grandmother to be I do not know, but it
appeared, at least, that she was accounted a person not only of great
importance, but also, and still more, of great wealth; and without
delay they entered her in the hotel register as “Madame la générale,
Princesse de Tarassevitcheva,” although she had never been a princess
in her life. Her retinue, her reserved compartment in the train, her
pile of unnecessary trunks, portmanteaux, and strong-boxes, all helped
to increase her prestige; while her wheeled chair, her sharp tone and
voice, her eccentric questions (put with an air of the most overbearing
and unbridled imperiousness), her whole figure—upright, rugged, and
commanding as it was—completed the general awe in which she was held.
As she inspected her new abode she ordered her chair to be stopped at
intervals in order that, with finger extended towards some article of
furniture, she might ply the respectfully smiling, yet secretly
apprehensive, landlord with unexpected questions. She addressed them to
him in French, although her pronunciation of the language was so bad
that sometimes I had to translate them. For the most part, the
landlord’s answers were unsatisfactory, and failed to please her; nor
were the questions themselves of a practical nature, but related,
generally, to God knows what.

For instance, on one occasion she halted before a picture which, a poor
copy of a well-known original, had a mythological subject.

“Of whom is this a portrait?” she inquired.

The landlord explained that it was probably that of a countess.

“But how know you that?” the old lady retorted.

“You live here, yet you cannot say for certain! And why is the picture
there at all? And why do its eyes look so crooked?”

To all these questions the landlord could return no satisfactory reply,
despite his floundering endeavours.

“The blockhead!” exclaimed the Grandmother in Russian.

Then she proceeded on her way—only to repeat the same story in front of
a Saxon statuette which she had sighted from afar, and had commanded,
for some reason or another, to be brought to her. Finally, she inquired
of the landlord what was the value of the carpet in her bedroom, as
well as where the said carpet had been manufactured; but, the landlord
could do no more than promise to make inquiries.

“What donkeys these people are!” she commented. Next, she turned her
attention to the bed.

“What a huge counterpane!” she exclaimed. “Turn it back, please.” The
lacqueys did so.

“Further yet, further yet,” the old lady cried. “Turn it _right_ back.
Also, take off those pillows and bolsters, and lift up the feather
bed.”

The bed was opened for her inspection.

“Mercifully it contains no bugs,” she remarked.

“Pull off the whole thing, and then put on my own pillows and sheets.
The place is too luxurious for an old woman like myself. It is too
large for any one person. Alexis Ivanovitch, come and see me whenever
you are not teaching your pupils.”

“After tomorrow I shall no longer be in the General’s service,” I
replied, “but merely living in the hotel on my own account.”

“Why so?”

“Because, the other day, there arrived from Berlin a German and his
wife—persons of some importance; and, it chanced that, when taking a
walk, I spoke to them in German without having properly compassed the
Berlin accent.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes: and this action on my part the Baron held to be an insult, and
complained about it to the General, who yesterday dismissed me from his
employ.”

“But I suppose you must have threatened that precious Baron, or
something of the kind? However, even if you did so, it was a matter of
no moment.”

“No, I did not. The Baron was the aggressor by raising his stick at
me.”

Upon that the Grandmother turned sharply to the General.

“What? You permitted yourself to treat your tutor thus, you nincompoop,
and to dismiss him from his post? You are a blockhead—an utter
blockhead! I can see that clearly.”

“Do not alarm yourself, my dear mother,” the General replied with a
lofty air—an air in which there was also a tinge of familiarity. “I am
quite capable of managing my own affairs. Moreover, Alexis Ivanovitch
has not given you a true account of the matter.”

“What did you do next?” The old lady inquired of me.

“I wanted to challenge the Baron to a duel,” I replied as modestly as
possible; “but the General protested against my doing so.”

“And _why_ did you so protest?” she inquired of the General. Then she
turned to the landlord, and questioned him as to whether _he_ would not
have fought a duel, if challenged. “For,” she added, “I can see no
difference between you and the Baron; nor can I bear that German visage
of yours.” Upon this the landlord bowed and departed, though he could
not have understood the Grandmother’s compliment.

“Pardon me, Madame,” the General continued with a sneer, “but are duels
really feasible?”

“Why not? All men are crowing cocks, and that is why they quarrel.
_You_, though, I perceive, are a blockhead—a man who does not even know
how to carry his breeding. Lift me up. Potapitch, see to it that you
always have _two_ bearers ready. Go and arrange for their hire. But we
shall not require more than two, for I shall need only to be carried
upstairs. On the level or in the street I can be _wheeled_ along. Go
and tell them that, and pay them in advance, so that they may show me
some respect. You too, Potapitch, are always to come with me, and
_you_, Alexis Ivanovitch, are to point out to me this Baron as we go
along, in order that I may get a squint at the precious ‘Von.’ And
where is that roulette played?”

I explained to her that the game was carried on in the salons of the
Casino; whereupon there ensued a string of questions as to whether
there were many such salons, whether many people played in them,
whether those people played a whole day at a time, and whether the game
was managed according to fixed rules. At length, I thought it best to
say that the most advisable course would be for her to go and see it
for herself, since a mere description of it would be a difficult
matter.

“Then take me straight there,” she said, “and do you walk on in front
of me, Alexis Ivanovitch.”

“What, mother? Before you have so much as rested from your journey?”
the General inquired with some solicitude. Also, for some reason which
I could not divine, he seemed to be growing nervous; and, indeed, the
whole party was evincing signs of confusion, and exchanging glances
with one another. Probably they were thinking that it would be a
ticklish—even an embarrassing—business to accompany the Grandmother to
the Casino, where, very likely, she would perpetrate further
eccentricities, and in public too! Yet on their own initiative they had
offered to escort her!

“Why should I rest?” she retorted. “I am not tired, for I have been
sitting still these past five days. Let us see what your medicinal
springs and waters are like, and where they are situated. What, too,
about that, that—what did you call it, Prascovia?—oh, about that
mountain top?”

“Yes, we are going to see it, Grandmamma.”

“Very well. Is there anything else for me to see here?”

“Yes! Quite a number of things,” Polina forced herself to say.

“Martha, _you_ must come with me as well,” went on the old lady to her
maid.

“No, no, mother!” ejaculated the General. “Really she cannot come. They
would not admit even Potapitch to the Casino.”

“Rubbish! Because she is my servant, is that a reason for turning her
out? Why, she is only a human being like the rest of us; and as she has
been travelling for a week she might like to look about her. With whom
else could she go out but myself? She would never dare to show her nose
in the street alone.”

“But, mother—”

“Are you ashamed to be seen with me? Stop at home, then, and you will
be asked no questions. A pretty General _you_ are, to be sure! I am a
general’s widow myself. But, after all, why should I drag the whole
party with me? I will go and see the sights with only Alexis Ivanovitch
as my escort.”

De Griers strongly insisted that _every one_ ought to accompany her.
Indeed, he launched out into a perfect shower of charming phrases
concerning the pleasure of acting as her cicerone, and so forth. Every
one was touched with his words.

“Mais elle est tombée en enfance,” he added aside to the General.
“Seule, elle fera des bêtises.” More than this I could not overhear,
but he seemed to have got some plan in his mind, or even to be feeling
a slight return of his hopes.

The distance to the Casino was about half a verst, and our route led us
through the Chestnut Avenue until we reached the square directly
fronting the building. The General, I could see, was a trifle reassured
by the fact that, though our progress was distinctly eccentric in its
nature, it was, at least, correct and orderly. As a matter of fact, the
spectacle of a person who is unable to walk is not anything to excite
surprise at a spa. Yet it was clear that the General had a great fear
of the Casino itself: for why should a person who had lost the use of
her limbs—more especially an old woman—be going to rooms which were set
apart only for roulette? On either side of the wheeled chair walked
Polina and Mlle. Blanche—the latter smiling, modestly jesting, and, in
short, making herself so agreeable to the Grandmother that in the end
the old lady relented towards her. On the other side of the chair
Polina had to answer an endless flow of petty questions—such as “Who
was it passed just now?” “Who is that coming along?” “Is the town a
large one?” “Are the public gardens extensive?” “What sort of trees are
those?” “What is the name of those hills?” “Do I see eagles flying
yonder?” “What is that absurd-looking building?” and so forth.
Meanwhile Astley whispered to me, as he walked by my side, that he
looked for much to happen that morning. Behind the old lady’s chair
marched Potapitch and Martha—Potapitch in his frockcoat and white
waistcoat, with a cloak over all, and the forty-year-old and rosy, but
slightly grey-headed, Martha in a mobcap, cotton dress, and squeaking
shoes. Frequently the old lady would twist herself round to converse
with these servants. As for De Griers, he spoke as though he had made
up his mind to do something (though it is also possible that he spoke
in this manner merely in order to hearten the General, with whom he
appeared to have held a conference). But, alas, the Grandmother had
uttered the fatal words, “I am not going to give you any of my money;”
and though De Griers might regard these words lightly, the General knew
his mother better. Also, I noticed that De Griers and Mlle. Blanche
were still exchanging looks; while of the Prince and the German savant
I lost sight at the end of the Avenue, where they had turned back and
left us.

Into the Casino we marched in triumph. At once, both in the person of
the commissionaire and in the persons of the footmen, there sprang to
life the same reverence as had arisen in the lacqueys of the hotel. Yet
it was not without some curiosity that they eyed us.

Without loss of time, the Grandmother gave orders that she should be
wheeled through every room in the establishment; of which apartments
she praised a few, while to others she remained indifferent. Concerning
everything, however, she asked questions. Finally we reached the
gaming-salons, where a lacquey who was, acting as guard over the doors,
flung them open as though he were a man possessed.

The Grandmother’s entry into the roulette-salon produced a profound
impression upon the public. Around the tables, and at the further end
of the room where the trente-et-quarante table was set out, there may
have been gathered from 150 to 200 gamblers, ranged in several rows.
Those who had succeeded in pushing their way to the tables were
standing with their feet firmly planted, in order to avoid having to
give up their places until they should have finished their game (since
merely to stand looking on—thus occupying a gambler’s place for
nothing—was not permitted). True, chairs were provided around the
tables, but few players made use of them—more especially if there was a
large attendance of the general public; since to stand allowed of a
closer approach; and, therefore, of greater facilities for calculation
and staking. Behind the foremost row were herded a second and a third
row of people awaiting their turn; but sometimes their impatience led
these people to stretch a hand through the first row, in order to
deposit their stakes. Even third-row individuals would dart forward to
stake; whence seldom did more than five or ten minutes pass without a
scene over disputed money arising at one or another end of the table.
On the other hand, the police of the Casino were an able body of men;
and though to escape the crush was an impossibility, however much one
might wish it, the eight croupiers apportioned to each table kept an
eye upon the stakes, performed the necessary reckoning, and decided
disputes as they arose.

In the last resort they always called in the Casino police, and the
disputes would immediately come to an end. Policemen were stationed
about the Casino in ordinary costume, and mingled with the spectators
so as to make it impossible to recognise them. In particular they kept
a lookout for pickpockets and swindlers, who simply swanned in the
roulette salons, and reaped a rich harvest. Indeed, in every direction
money was being filched from pockets or purses—though, of course, if
the attempt miscarried, a great uproar ensued. One had only to approach
a roulette table, begin to play, and then openly grab some one else’s
winnings, for a din to be raised, and the thief to start vociferating
that the stake was _his;_ and, if the coup had been carried out with
sufficient skill, and the witnesses wavered at all in their testimony,
the thief would as likely as not succeed in getting away with the
money, provided that the sum was not a large one—not large enough to
have attracted the attention of the croupiers or some fellow-player.
Moreover, if it were a stake of insignificant size, its true owner
would sometimes decline to continue the dispute, rather than become
involved in a scandal. Conversely, if the thief was detected, he was
ignominiously expelled the building.

Upon all this the Grandmother gazed with open-eyed curiosity; and, on
some thieves happening to be turned out of the place, she was
delighted. Trente-et-quarante interested her but little; she preferred
roulette, with its ever-revolving wheel. At length she expressed a wish
to view the game closer; whereupon in some mysterious manner, the
lacqueys and other officious agents (especially one or two ruined Poles
of the kind who keep offering their services to successful gamblers and
foreigners in general) at once found and cleared a space for the old
lady among the crush, at the very centre of one of the tables, and next
to the chief croupier; after which they wheeled her chair thither. Upon
this a number of visitors who were not playing, but only looking on
(particularly some Englishmen with their families), pressed closer
forward towards the table, in order to watch the old lady from among
the ranks of the gamblers. Many a lorgnette I saw turned in her
direction, and the croupiers’ hopes rose high that such an eccentric
player was about to provide them with something out of the common. An
old lady of seventy-five years who, though unable to walk, desired to
play was not an everyday phenomenon. I too pressed forward towards the
table, and ranged myself by the Grandmother’s side; while Martha and
Potapitch remained somewhere in the background among the crowd, and the
General, Polina, and De Griers, with Mlle. Blanche, also remained
hidden among the spectators.

At first the old lady did no more than watch the gamblers, and ply me,
in a half-whisper, with sharp-broken questions as to who was so-and-so.
Especially did her favour light upon a very young man who was plunging
heavily, and had won (so it was whispered) as much as 40,000 francs,
which were lying before him on the table in a heap of gold and
bank-notes. His eyes kept flashing, and his hands shaking; yet all the
while he staked without any sort of calculation—just what came to his
hand, as he kept winning and winning, and raking and raking in his
gains. Around him lacqueys fussed—placing chairs just behind where he
was standing—and clearing the spectators from his vicinity, so that he
should have more room, and not be crowded—the whole done, of course, in
expectation of a generous largesse. From time to time other gamblers
would hand him part of their winnings—being glad to let him stake for
them as much as his hand could grasp; while beside him stood a Pole in
a state of violent, but respectful, agitation, who, also in expectation
of a generous largesse, kept whispering to him at intervals (probably
telling him what to stake, and advising and directing his play). Yet
never once did the player throw him a glance as he staked and staked,
and raked in his winnings. Evidently, the player in question was dead
to all besides.

For a few minutes the Grandmother watched him.

“Go and tell him,” suddenly she exclaimed with a nudge at my elbow,
“—go and tell him to stop, and to take his money with him, and go home.
Presently he will be losing—yes, losing everything that he has now
won.” She seemed almost breathless with excitement.

“Where is Potapitch?” she continued. “Send Potapitch to speak to him.
No, _you_ must tell him, _you_ must tell him,”—here she nudged me
again—“for I have not the least notion where Potapitch is. Sortez,
sortez,” she shouted to the young man, until I leant over in her
direction and whispered in her ear that no shouting was allowed, nor
even loud speaking, since to do so disturbed the calculations of the
players, and might lead to our being ejected.

“How provoking!” she retorted. “Then the young man is done for! I
suppose he _wishes_ to be ruined. Yet I could not bear to see him have
to return it all. What a fool the fellow is!” and the old lady turned
sharply away.

On the left, among the players at the other half of the table, a young
lady was playing, with, beside her, a dwarf. Who the dwarf may have
been—whether a relative or a person whom she took with her to act as a
foil—I do not know; but I had noticed her there on previous occasions,
since, everyday, she entered the Casino at one o’clock precisely, and
departed at two—thus playing for exactly one hour. Being well-known to
the attendants, she always had a seat provided for her; and, taking
some gold and a few thousand-franc notes out of her pocket—would begin
quietly, coldly, and after much calculation, to stake, and mark down
the figures in pencil on a paper, as though striving to work out a
system according to which, at given moments, the odds might group
themselves. Always she staked large coins, and either lost or won one,
two, or three thousand francs a day, but not more; after which she
would depart. The Grandmother took a long look at her.

“_That_ woman is not losing,” she said. “To whom does she belong? Do
you know her? Who is she?”

“She is, I believe, a Frenchwoman,” I replied.

“Ah! A bird of passage, evidently. Besides, I can see that she has her
shoes polished. Now, explain to me the meaning of each round in the
game, and the way in which one ought to stake.”

Upon this I set myself to explain the meaning of all the
combinations—of “rouge et noir,” of “pair et impair,” of “manque et
passe,” with, lastly, the different values in the system of numbers.
The Grandmother listened attentively, took notes, put questions in
various forms, and laid the whole thing to heart. Indeed, since an
example of each system of stakes kept constantly occurring, a great
deal of information could be assimilated with ease and celerity. The
Grandmother was vastly pleased.

“But what is zero?” she inquired. “Just now I heard the flaxen-haired
croupier call out ‘zero!’ And why does he keep raking in all the money
that is on the table? To think that he should grab the whole pile for
himself! What does zero mean?”

“Zero is what the bank takes for itself. If the wheel stops at that
figure, everything lying on the table becomes the absolute property of
the bank. Also, whenever the wheel has begun to turn, the bank ceases
to pay out anything.”

“Then I should receive nothing if I were staking?”

“No; unless by any chance you had _purposely_ staked on zero; in which
case you would receive thirty-five times the value of your stake.”

“Why thirty-five times, when zero so often turns up? And if so, why do
not more of these fools stake upon it?”

“Because the number of chances against its occurrence is thirty-six.”

“Rubbish! Potapitch, Potapitch! Come here, and I will give you some
money.” The old lady took out of her pocket a tightly-clasped purse,
and extracted from its depths a ten-gülden piece. “Go at once, and
stake that upon zero.”

“But, Madame, zero has only this moment turned up,” I remonstrated;
“wherefore, it may not do so again for ever so long. Wait a little, and
you may then have a better chance.”

“Rubbish! Stake, please.”

“Pardon me, but zero might not turn up again until, say, tonight, even
though you had staked thousands upon it. It often happens so.”

“Rubbish, rubbish! Who fears the wolf should never enter the forest.
What? We have lost? Then stake again.”

A second ten-gülden piece did we lose, and then I put down a third. The
Grandmother could scarcely remain seated in her chair, so intent was
she upon the little ball as it leapt through the notches of the
ever-revolving wheel. However, the third ten-gülden piece followed the
first two. Upon this the Grandmother went perfectly crazy. She could no
longer sit still, and actually struck the table with her fist when the
croupier cried out, “Trente-six,” instead of the desiderated zero.

“To listen to him!” fumed the old lady. “When will that accursed zero
ever turn up? I cannot breathe until I see it. I believe that that
infernal croupier is _purposely_ keeping it from turning up. Alexis
Ivanovitch, stake TWO golden pieces this time. The moment we cease to
stake, that cursed zero will come turning up, and we shall get
nothing.”

“My good Madame—”

“Stake, stake! It is not _your_ money.”

Accordingly I staked two ten-gülden pieces. The ball went hopping round
the wheel until it began to settle through the notches. Meanwhile the
Grandmother sat as though petrified, with my hand convulsively clutched
in hers.

“Zero!” called the croupier.

“There! You see, you see!” cried the old lady, as she turned and faced
me, wreathed in smiles. “I told you so! It was the Lord God himself who
suggested to me to stake those two coins. Now, how much ought I to
receive? Why do they not pay it out to me? Potapitch! Martha! Where are
they? What has become of our party? Potapitch, Potapitch!”

“Presently, Madame,” I whispered. “Potapitch is outside, and they would
decline to admit him to these rooms. See! You are being paid out your
money. Pray take it.” The croupiers were making up a heavy packet of
coins, sealed in blue paper, and containing fifty ten gülden pieces,
together with an unsealed packet containing another twenty. I handed
the whole to the old lady in a money-shovel.

“Faites le jeu, messieurs! Faites le jeu, messieurs! Rien ne va plus,”
proclaimed the croupier as once more he invited the company to stake,
and prepared to turn the wheel.

“We shall be too late! He is going to spin again! Stake, stake!” The
Grandmother was in a perfect fever. “Do not hang back! Be quick!” She
seemed almost beside herself, and nudged me as hard as she could.

“Upon what shall I stake, Madame?”

“Upon zero, upon zero! Again upon zero! Stake as much as ever you can.
How much have we got? Seventy ten-gülden pieces? We shall not miss
them, so stake twenty pieces at a time.”

“Think a moment, Madame. Sometimes zero does not turn up for two
hundred rounds in succession. I assure you that you may lose all your
capital.”

“You are wrong—utterly wrong. Stake, I tell you! What a chattering
tongue you have! I know perfectly well what I am doing.” The old lady
was shaking with excitement.

“But the rules do not allow of more than 120 gülden being staked upon
zero at a time.”

“How ‘do not allow’? Surely you are wrong? Monsieur, monsieur—” here
she nudged the croupier who was sitting on her left, and preparing to
spin—“combien zero? Douze? Douze?”

I hastened to translate.

“Oui, Madame,” was the croupier’s polite reply. “No single stake must
exceed four thousand florins. That is the regulation.”

“Then there is nothing else for it. We must risk in gülden.”

“Le jeu est fait!” the croupier called. The wheel revolved, and stopped
at thirty. We had lost!

“Again, again, again! Stake again!” shouted the old lady. Without
attempting to oppose her further, but merely shrugging my shoulders, I
placed twelve more ten-gülden pieces upon the table. The wheel whirled
around and around, with the Grandmother simply quaking as she watched
its revolutions.

“Does she again think that zero is going to be the winning coup?”
thought I, as I stared at her in astonishment. Yet an absolute
assurance of winning was shining on her face; she looked perfectly
convinced that zero was about to be called again. At length the ball
dropped off into one of the notches.

“Zero!” cried the croupier.

“Ah!!!” screamed the old lady as she turned to me in a whirl of
triumph.

I myself was at heart a gambler. At that moment I became acutely
conscious both of that fact and of the fact that my hands and knees
were shaking, and that the blood was beating in my brain. Of course
this was a rare occasion—an occasion on which zero had turned up no
less than three times within a dozen rounds; yet in such an event there
was nothing so very surprising, seeing that, only three days ago, I
myself had been a witness to zero turning up _three times in
succession_, so that one of the players who was recording the coups on
paper was moved to remark that for several days past zero had never
turned up at all!

With the Grandmother, as with any one who has won a very large sum, the
management settled up with great attention and respect, since she was
fortunate to have to receive no less than 4200 gülden. Of these gülden
the odd 200 were paid her in gold, and the remainder in bank notes.

This time the old lady did not call for Potapitch; for that she was too
preoccupied. Though not outwardly shaken by the event (indeed, she
seemed perfectly calm), she was trembling inwardly from head to foot.
At length, completely absorbed in the game, she burst out:

“Alexis Ivanovitch, did not the croupier just say that 4000 florins
were the most that could be staked at any one time? Well, take these
4000, and stake them upon the red.”

To oppose her was useless. Once more the wheel revolved.

“Rouge!” proclaimed the croupier.

Again 4000 florins—in all 8000!

“Give me them,” commanded the Grandmother, “and stake the other 4000
upon the red again.”

I did so.

“Rouge!” proclaimed the croupier.

“Twelve thousand!” cried the old lady. “Hand me the whole lot. Put the
gold into this purse here, and count the bank notes. Enough! Let us go
home. Wheel my chair away.”




XI


The chair, with the old lady beaming in it, was wheeled away towards
the doors at the further end of the salon, while our party hastened to
crowd around her, and to offer her their congratulations. In fact,
eccentric as was her conduct, it was also overshadowed by her triumph;
with the result that the General no longer feared to be publicly
compromised by being seen with such a strange woman, but, smiling in a
condescending, cheerfully familiar way, as though he were soothing a
child, he offered his greetings to the old lady. At the same time, both
he and the rest of the spectators were visibly impressed. Everywhere
people kept pointing to the Grandmother, and talking about her. Many
people even walked beside her chair, in order to view her the better
while, at a little distance, Astley was carrying on a conversation on
the subject with two English acquaintances of his. De Griers was simply
overflowing with smiles and compliments, and a number of fine ladies
were staring at the Grandmother as though she had been something
curious.

“Quelle victoire!” exclaimed De Griers.

“Mais, Madame, c’était du feu!” added Mlle. Blanche with an elusive
smile.

“Yes, I have won twelve thousand florins,” replied the old lady. “And
then there is all this gold. With it the total ought to come to nearly
thirteen thousand. How much is that in Russian money? Six thousand
roubles, I think?”

However, I calculated that the sum would exceed seven thousand
roubles—or, at the present rate of exchange, even eight thousand.

“Eight thousand roubles! What a splendid thing! And to think of you
simpletons sitting there and doing nothing! Potapitch! Martha! See what
I have won!”

“How _did_ you do it, Madame?” Martha exclaimed ecstatically. “Eight
thousand roubles!”

“And I am going to give you fifty gülden apiece. There they are.”

Potapitch and Martha rushed towards her to kiss her hand.

“And to each bearer also I will give a ten-gülden piece. Let them have
it out of the gold, Alexis Ivanovitch. But why is this footman bowing
to me, and that other man as well? Are they congratulating me? Well,
let them have ten gülden apiece.”

“Madame la princesse—Un pauvre expatrié—Malheur continuel—Les princes
russes sont si généreux!” said a man who for some time past had been
hanging around the old lady’s chair—a personage who, dressed in a
shabby frockcoat and coloured waistcoat, kept taking off his cap, and
smiling pathetically.

“Give him ten gülden,” said the Grandmother. “No, give him twenty. Now,
enough of that, or I shall never get done with you all. Take a moment’s
rest, and then carry me away. Prascovia, I mean to buy a new dress for
you tomorrow. Yes, and for you too, Mlle. Blanche. Please translate,
Prascovia.”

“Merci, Madame,” replied Mlle. Blanche gratefully as she twisted her
face into the mocking smile which usually she kept only for the benefit
of De Griers and the General. The latter looked confused, and seemed
greatly relieved when we reached the Avenue.

“How surprised Theodosia too will be!” went on the Grandmother
(thinking of the General’s nursemaid). “She, like yourselves, shall
have the price of a new gown. Here, Alexis Ivanovitch! Give that beggar
something” (a crooked-backed ragamuffin had approached to stare at us).

“But perhaps he is _not_ a beggar—only a rascal,” I replied.

“Never mind, never mind. Give him a gülden.”

I approached the beggar in question, and handed him the coin. Looking
at me in great astonishment, he silently accepted the gülden, while
from his person there proceeded a strong smell of liquor.

“Have you never tried your luck, Alexis Ivanovitch?”

“No, Madame.”

“Yet just now I could see that you were burning to do so?”

“I _do_ mean to try my luck presently.”

“Then stake everything upon zero. You have seen how it ought to be
done? How much capital do you possess?”

“Two hundred gülden, Madame.”

“Not very much. See here; I will lend you five hundred if you wish.
Take this purse of mine.” With that she added sharply to the General:
“But _you_ need not expect to receive any.”

This seemed to upset him, but he said nothing, and De Griers contented
himself by scowling.

“Que diable!” he whispered to the General. “C’est une terrible
vieille.”

“Look! Another beggar, another beggar!” exclaimed the grandmother.
“Alexis Ivanovitch, go and give him a gülden.”

As she spoke I saw approaching us a grey-headed old man with a wooden
leg—a man who was dressed in a blue frockcoat and carrying a staff. He
looked like an old soldier. As soon as I tendered him the coin he fell
back a step or two, and eyed me threateningly.

“Was ist der Teufel!” he cried, and appended thereto a round dozen of
oaths.

“The man is a perfect fool!” exclaimed the Grandmother, waving her
hand. “Move on now, for I am simply famished. When we have lunched we
will return to that place.”

“What?” cried I. “You are going to play _again?_”

“What else do you suppose?” she retorted. “Are you going only to sit
here, and grow sour, and let me look at you?”

“Madame,” said De Griers confidentially, “les chances peuvent tourner.
Une seule mauvaise chance, et vous perdrez tout—surtout avec votre jeu.
C’était terrible!”

“Oui; vous perdrez absolument,” put in Mlle. Blanche.

“What has that got to do with _you?_” retorted the old lady. “It is not
_your_ money that I am going to lose; it is my own. And where is that
Mr. Astley of yours?” she added to myself.

“He stayed behind in the Casino.”

“What a pity! He is such a nice sort of man!”

Arriving home, and meeting the landlord on the staircase, the
Grandmother called him to her side, and boasted to him of her
winnings—thereafter doing the same to Theodosia, and conferring upon
her thirty gülden; after which she bid her serve luncheon. The meal
over, Theodosia and Martha broke into a joint flood of ecstasy.

“I was watching you all the time, Madame,” quavered Martha, “and I
asked Potapitch what mistress was trying to do. And, my word! the heaps
and _heaps_ of money that were lying upon the table! Never in my life
have I seen so much money. And there were gentlefolk around it, and
other gentlefolk sitting down. So, I asked Potapitch where all these
gentry had come from; for, thought I, maybe the Holy Mother of God will
help our mistress among them. Yes, I prayed for you, Madame, and my
heart died within me, so that I kept trembling and trembling. The Lord
be with her, I thought to myself; and in answer to my prayer He has now
sent you what He has done! Even yet I tremble—I tremble to think of it
all.”

“Alexis Ivanovitch,” said the old lady, “after luncheon,—that is to
say, about four o’clock—get ready to go out with me again. But in the
meanwhile, good-bye. Do not forget to call a doctor, for I must take
the waters. Now go and get rested a little.”

I left the Grandmother’s presence in a state of bewilderment.

Vainly I endeavoured to imagine what would become of our party, or what
turn the affair would next take. I could perceive that none of the
party had yet recovered their presence of mind—least of all the
General. The factor of the Grandmother’s appearance in place of the
hourly expected telegram to announce her death (with, of course,
resultant legacies) had so upset the whole scheme of intentions and
projects that it was with a decided feeling of apprehension and growing
paralysis that the conspirators viewed any future performances of the
old lady at roulette. Yet this second factor was not quite so important
as the first, since, though the Grandmother had twice declared that she
did not intend to give the General any money, that declaration was not
a complete ground for the abandonment of hope. Certainly De Griers,
who, with the General, was up to the neck in the affair, had not wholly
lost courage; and I felt sure that Mlle. Blanche also—Mlle. Blanche who
was not only as deeply involved as the other two, but also expectant of
becoming Madame General and an important legatee—would not lightly
surrender the position, but would use her every resource of coquetry
upon the old lady, in order to afford a contrast to the impetuous
Polina, who was difficult to understand, and lacked the art of
pleasing.

Yet now, when the Grandmother had just performed an astonishing feat at
roulette; now, when the old lady’s personality had been so clearly and
typically revealed as that of a rugged, arrogant woman who was “tombée
en enfance”; now, when everything appeared to be lost,—why, now the
Grandmother was as merry as a child which plays with thistle-down.
“Good Lord!” I thought with, may God forgive me, a most malicious
smile, “every ten-gülden piece which the Grandmother staked must have
raised a blister on the General’s heart, and maddened De Griers, and
driven Mlle. de Cominges almost to frenzy with the sight of this spoon
dangling before her lips.” Another factor is the circumstance that even
when, overjoyed at winning, the Grandmother was distributing alms right
and left, and taking every one to be a beggar, she again snapped out to
the General that he was not going to be allowed any of her money—which
meant that the old lady had quite made up her mind on the point, and
was sure of it. Yes, danger loomed ahead.

All these thoughts passed through my mind during the few moments that,
having left the old lady’s rooms, I was ascending to my own room on the
top storey. What most struck me was the fact that, though I had divined
the chief, the stoutest, threads which united the various actors in the
drama, I had, until now, been ignorant of the methods and secrets of
the game. For Polina had never been completely open with me. Although,
on occasions, it had happened that involuntarily, as it were, she had
revealed to me something of her heart, I had noticed that in most
cases—in fact, nearly always—she had either laughed away these
revelations, or grown confused, or purposely imparted to them a false
guise. Yes, she must have concealed a great deal from me. But, I had a
presentiment that now the end of this strained and mysterious situation
was approaching. Another stroke, and all would be finished and exposed.
Of my own fortunes, interested though I was in the affair, I took no
account. I was in the strange position of possessing but two hundred
gülden, of being at a loose end, of lacking both a post, the means of
subsistence, a shred of hope, and any plans for the future, yet of
caring nothing for these things. Had not my mind been so full of
Polina, I should have given myself up to the comical piquancy of the
impending denouement, and laughed my fill at it. But the thought of
Polina was torture to me. That her fate was settled I already had an
inkling; yet _that_ was not the thought which was giving me so much
uneasiness. What I really wished for was to penetrate her secrets. I
wanted her to come to me and say, “I love you,” and, if she would not
so come, or if to hope that she would ever do so was an unthinkable
absurdity—why, then there was nothing else for me to want. Even now I
do not know what I am wanting. I feel like a man who has lost his way.
I yearn but to be in her presence, and within the circle of her light
and splendour—to be there now, and forever, and for the whole of my
life. More I do not know. How can I ever bring myself to leave her?

On reaching the third storey of the hotel I experienced a shock. I was
just passing the General’s suite when something caused me to look
round. Out of a door about twenty paces away there was coming Polina!
She hesitated for a moment on seeing me, and then beckoned me to her.

“Polina Alexandrovna!”

“Hush! Not so loud.”

“Something startled me just now,” I whispered, “and I looked round, and
saw you. Some electrical influence seems to emanate from your form.”

“Take this letter,” she went on with a frown (probably she had not even
heard my words, she was so preoccupied), “and hand it personally to Mr.
Astley. Go as quickly as ever you can, please. No answer will be
required. He himself—” She did not finish her sentence.

“To Mr. Astley?” I asked, in some astonishment.

But she had vanished again.

Aha! So the two were carrying on a correspondence! However, I set off
to search for Astley—first at his hotel, and then at the Casino, where
I went the round of the salons in vain. At length, vexed, and almost in
despair, I was on my way home when I ran across him among a troop of
English ladies and gentlemen who had been out for a ride. Beckoning to
him to stop, I handed him the letter. We had barely time even to look
at one another, but I suspected that it was of set purpose that he
restarted his horse so quickly.

Was jealousy, then, gnawing at me? At all events, I felt exceedingly
depressed, despite the fact that I had no desire to ascertain what the
correspondence was about. To think that _he_ should be her confidant!
“My friend, mine own familiar friend!” passed through my mind. Yet
_was_ there any love in the matter? “Of course not,” reason whispered
to me. But reason goes for little on such occasions. I felt that the
matter must be cleared up, for it was becoming unpleasantly complex.

I had scarcely set foot in the hotel when the commissionaire and the
landlord (the latter issuing from his room for the purpose) alike
informed me that I was being searched for high and low—that three
separate messages to ascertain my whereabouts had come down from the
General. When I entered his study I was feeling anything but kindly
disposed. I found there the General himself, De Griers, and Mlle.
Blanche, but not Mlle.’s mother, who was a person whom her reputed
daughter used only for show purposes, since in all matters of business
the daughter fended for herself, and it is unlikely that the mother
knew anything about them.

Some very heated discussion was in progress, and meanwhile the door of
the study was open—an unprecedented circumstance. As I approached the
portals I could hear loud voices raised, for mingled with the pert,
venomous accents of De Griers were Mlle. Blanche’s excited, impudently
abusive tongue and the General’s plaintive wail as, apparently, he
sought to justify himself in something. But on my appearance every one
stopped speaking, and tried to put a better face upon matters. De
Griers smoothed his hair, and twisted his angry face into a smile—into
the mean, studiedly polite French smile which I so detested; while the
downcast, perplexed General assumed an air of dignity—though only in a
mechanical way. On the other hand, Mlle. Blanche did not trouble to
conceal the wrath that was sparkling in her countenance, but bent her
gaze upon me with an air of impatient expectancy. I may remark that
hitherto she had treated me with absolute superciliousness, and, so far
from answering my salutations, had always ignored them.

“Alexis Ivanovitch,” began the General in a tone of affectionate
upbraiding, “may I say to you that I find it strange, exceedingly
strange, that—In short, your conduct towards myself and my family— In a
word, your—er—extremely—”

“Eh! Ce n’est pas ça,” interrupted De Griers in a tone of impatience
and contempt (evidently he was the ruling spirit of the conclave). “Mon
cher monsieur, notre général se trompe. What he means to say is that he
warns you—he begs of you most earnestly—not to ruin him. I use the
expression because—”

“Why? Why?” I interjected.

“Because you have taken upon yourself to act as guide to this, to
this—how shall I express it?—to this old lady, à cette pauvre terrible
vieille. But she will only gamble away all that she has—gamble it away
like thistledown. You yourself have seen her play. Once she has
acquired the taste for gambling, she will never leave the
roulette-table, but, of sheer perversity and temper, will stake her
all, and lose it. In cases such as hers a gambler can never be torn
away from the game; and then—and then—”

“And then,” asseverated the General, “you will have ruined my whole
family. I and my family are her heirs, for she has no nearer relatives
than ourselves. I tell you frankly that my affairs are in great—very
great disorder; how much they are so you yourself are partially aware.
If she should lose a large sum, or, maybe, her whole fortune, what will
become of us—of my children” (here the General exchanged a glance with
De Griers) “or of me?” (here he looked at Mlle. Blanche, who turned her
head contemptuously away). “Alexis Ivanovitch, I beg of you to save
us.”

“Tell me, General, how am I to do so? On what footing do I stand here?”

“Refuse to take her about. Simply leave her alone.”

“But she would soon find some one else to take my place?”

“Ce n’est pas ça, ce n’est pas ça,” again interrupted De Griers. “Que
diable! Do not leave her alone so much as advise her, persuade her,
draw her away. In any case do not let her gamble; find her some
counter-attraction.”

“And how am I to do that? If only you would undertake the task,
Monsieur de Griers!” I said this last as innocently as possible, but at
once saw a rapid glance of excited interrogation pass from Mlle.
Blanche to De Griers, while in the face of the latter also there
gleamed something which he could not repress.

“Well, at the present moment she would refuse to accept my services,”
said he with a gesture. “But if, later—”

Here he gave Mlle. Blanche another glance which was full of meaning;
whereupon she advanced towards me with a bewitching smile, and seized
and pressed my hands. Devil take it, but how that devilish visage of
hers could change! At the present moment it was a visage full of
supplication, and as gentle in its expression as that of a smiling,
roguish infant. Stealthily, she drew me apart from the rest as though
the more completely to separate me from them; and, though no harm came
of her doing so—for it was merely a stupid manoeuvre, and no more—I
found the situation very unpleasant.

The General hastened to lend her his support.

“Alexis Ivanovitch,” he began, “pray pardon me for having said what I
did just now—for having said more than I meant to do. I beg and beseech
you, I kiss the hem of your garment, as our Russian saying has it, for
you, and only you, can save us. I and Mlle. de Cominges, we all of us
beg of you—But you understand, do you not? Surely you understand?” and
with his eyes he indicated Mlle. Blanche. Truly he was cutting a
pitiful figure!

At this moment three low, respectful knocks sounded at the door; which,
on being opened, revealed a chambermaid, with Potapitch behind her—come
from the Grandmother to request that I should attend her in her rooms.
“She is in a bad humour,” added Potapitch.

The time was half-past three.

“My mistress was unable to sleep,” explained Potapitch; “so, after
tossing about for a while, she suddenly rose, called for her chair, and
sent me to look for you. She is now in the verandah.”

“Quelle mégère!” exclaimed De Griers.

True enough, I found Madame in the hotel verandah—much put about at my
delay, for she had been unable to contain herself until four o’clock.

“Lift me up,” she cried to the bearers, and once more we set out for
the roulette-salons.




XII


The Grandmother was in an impatient, irritable frame of mind. Without
doubt the roulette had turned her head, for she appeared to be
indifferent to everything else, and, in general, seemed much
distraught. For instance, she asked me no questions about objects _en
route_, except that, when a sumptuous barouche passed us and raised a
cloud of dust, she lifted her hand for a moment, and inquired, “What
was that?” Yet even then she did not appear to hear my reply, although
at times her abstraction was interrupted by sallies and fits of sharp,
impatient fidgeting. Again, when I pointed out to her the Baron and
Baroness Burmergelm walking to the Casino, she merely looked at them in
an absent-minded sort of way, and said with complete indifference,
“Ah!” Then, turning sharply to Potapitch and Martha, who were walking
behind us, she rapped out:

“Why have _you_ attached yourselves to the party? We are not going to
take you with us every time. Go home at once.” Then, when the servants
had pulled hasty bows and departed, she added to me: “You are all the
escort I need.”

At the Casino the Grandmother seemed to be expected, for no time was
lost in procuring her former place beside the croupier. It is my
opinion that though croupiers seem such ordinary, humdrum officials—men
who care nothing whether the bank wins or loses—they are, in reality,
anything but indifferent to the bank’s losing, and are given
instructions to attract players, and to keep a watch over the bank’s
interests; as also, that for such services, these officials are awarded
prizes and premiums. At all events, the croupiers of Roulettenberg
seemed to look upon the Grandmother as their lawful prey—whereafter
there befell what our party had foretold.

It happened thus:

As soon as ever we arrived the Grandmother ordered me to stake twelve
ten-gülden pieces in succession upon zero. Once, twice, and thrice I
did so, yet zero never turned up.

“Stake again,” said the old lady with an impatient nudge of my elbow,
and I obeyed.

“How many times have we lost?” she inquired—actually grinding her teeth
in her excitement.

“We have lost 144 ten-gülden pieces,” I replied. “I tell you, Madame,
that zero may not turn up until nightfall.”

“Never mind,” she interrupted. “Keep on staking upon zero, and also
stake a thousand gülden upon rouge. Here is a banknote with which to do
so.”

The red turned up, but zero missed again, and we only got our thousand
gülden back.

“But you see, you see,” whispered the old lady. “We have now recovered
almost all that we staked. Try zero again. Let us do so another ten
times, and then leave off.”

By the fifth round, however, the Grandmother was weary of the scheme.

“To the devil with that zero!” she exclaimed. “Stake four thousand
gülden upon the red.”

“But, Madame, that will be so much to venture!” I remonstrated.
“Suppose the red should not turn up?” The Grandmother almost struck me
in her excitement. Her agitation was rapidly making her quarrelsome.
Consequently, there was nothing for it but to stake the whole four
thousand gülden as she had directed.

The wheel revolved while the Grandmother sat as bolt upright, and with
as proud and quiet a mien, as though she had not the least doubt of
winning.

“Zero!” cried the croupier.

At first the old lady failed to understand the situation; but, as soon
as she saw the croupier raking in her four thousand gülden, together
with everything else that happened to be lying on the table, and
recognised that the zero which had been so long turning up, and on
which we had lost nearly two hundred ten-gülden pieces, had at length,
as though of set purpose, made a sudden reappearance—why, the poor old
lady fell to cursing it, and to throwing herself about, and wailing and
gesticulating at the company at large. Indeed, some people in our
vicinity actually burst out laughing.

“To think that that accursed zero should have turned up _now!_” she
sobbed. “The accursed, accursed thing! And, it is all _your_ fault,”
she added, rounding upon me in a frenzy. “It was _you_ who persuaded me
to cease staking upon it.”

“But, Madame, I only explained the game to you. How am _I_ to answer
for every mischance which may occur in it?”

“You and your mischances!” she whispered threateningly. “Go! Away at
once!”

“Farewell, then, Madame.” And I turned to depart.

“No—stay,” she put in hastily. “Where are you going to? Why should you
leave me? You fool! No, no... stay here. It is _I_ who was the fool.
Tell me what I ought to do.”

“I cannot take it upon myself to advise you, for you will only blame me
if I do so. Play at your own discretion. Say exactly what you wish
staked, and I will stake it.”

“Very well. Stake another four thousand gülden upon the red. Take this
banknote to do it with. I have still got twenty thousand roubles in
actual cash.”

“But,” I whispered, “such a quantity of money—”

“Never mind. I cannot rest until I have won back my losses. Stake!”

I staked, and we lost.

“Stake again, stake again—eight thousand at a stroke!”

“I cannot, Madame. The largest stake allowed is four thousand gülden.”

“Well, then; stake four thousand.”

This time we won, and the Grandmother recovered herself a little.

“You see, you see!” she exclaimed as she nudged me. “Stake another four
thousand.”

I did so, and lost. Again, and yet again, we lost. “Madame, your twelve
thousand gülden are now gone,” at length I reported.

“I see they are,” she replied with, as it were, the calmness of
despair. “I see they are,” she muttered again as she gazed straight in
front of her, like a person lost in thought. “Ah well, I do not mean to
rest until I have staked another four thousand.”

“But you have no money with which to do it, Madame. In this satchel I
can see only a few five percent bonds and some transfers—no actual
cash.”

“And in the purse?”

“A mere trifle.”

“But there is a money-changer’s office here, is there not? They told me
I should be able to get any sort of paper security changed!”

“Quite so; to any amount you please. But you will lose on the
transaction what would frighten even a Jew.”

“Rubbish! I am _determined_ to retrieve my losses. Take me away, and
call those fools of bearers.”

I wheeled the chair out of the throng, and, the bearers making their
appearance, we left the Casino.

“Hurry, hurry!” commanded the Grandmother. “Show me the nearest way to
the money-changer’s. Is it far?”

“A couple of steps, Madame.”

At the turning from the square into the Avenue we came face to face
with the whole of our party—the General, De Griers, Mlle. Blanche, and
her mother. Only Polina and Mr. Astley were absent.

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