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Title: The Gambler

Author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translator: C. J. Hogarth

Release date: May 1, 2000 [eBook #2197]
Most recently updated: June 30, 2020

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2197

Credits: Produced by Martin Adamson. HTML version by Al Haines.

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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.
“Well, well, well!” exclaimed the Grandmother. “But we have no time to
stop. What do you want? I can’t talk to you here.”
I dropped behind a little, and immediately was pounced upon by De
Griers.
“She has lost this morning’s winnings,” I whispered, “and also twelve
thousand gülden of her original money. At the present moment we are going
to get some bonds changed.”
De Griers stamped his foot with vexation, and hastened to communicate
the tidings to the General. Meanwhile we continued to wheel the old lady
along.
“Stop her, stop her,” whispered the General in consternation.
“You had better try and stop her yourself,” I returned—also in a whisper.

“My good mother,” he said as he approached her, “—my good mother,
pray let, let—” (his voice was beginning to tremble and sink) “—let us hire
a carriage, and go for a drive. Near here there is an enchanting view to be
obtained. We-we-we were just coming to invite you to go and see it.”
“Begone with you and your views!” said the Grandmother angrily as she
waved him away.
“And there are trees there, and we could have tea under them,” continued
the General—now in utter despair.
“Nous boirons du lait, sur l’herbe fraiche,” added De Griers with the
snarl almost of a wild beast.
“Du lait, de l’herbe fraiche”—the idyll, the ideal of the Parisian
bourgeois—his whole outlook upon “la nature et la verité”!
“Have done with you and your milk!” cried the old lady. “Go and stuff
yourself as much as you like, but my stomach simply recoils from the idea.
What are you stopping for? I have nothing to say to you.”
“Here we are, Madame,” I announced. “Here is the moneychanger’s
office.”
I entered to get the securities changed, while the Grandmother remained
outside in the porch, and the rest waited at a little distance, in doubt as to
their best course of action. At length the old lady turned such an angry stare
upon them that they departed along the road towards the Casino.
The process of changing involved complicated calculations which soon
necessitated my return to the Grandmother for instructions.
“The thieves!” she exclaimed as she clapped her hands together. “Never
mind, though. Get the documents cashed—No; send the banker out to me,”
she added as an afterthought.
“Would one of the clerks do, Madame?”
“Yes, one of the clerks. The thieves!”
The clerk consented to come out when he perceived that he was being
asked for by an old lady who was too infirm to walk; after which the
Grandmother began to upbraid him at length, and with great vehemence, for
his alleged usuriousness, and to bargain with him in a mixture of Russian,
French, and German—I acting as interpreter. Meanwhile, the grave-faced
official eyed us both, and silently nodded his head. At the Grandmother, in

particular, he gazed with a curiosity which almost bordered upon rudeness.
At length, too, he smiled.
“Pray recollect yourself!” cried the old lady. “And may my money choke
you! Alexis Ivanovitch, tell him that we can easily repair to someone else.”
“The clerk says that others will give you even less than he.”
Of what the ultimate calculations consisted I do not exactly remember,
but at all events they were alarming. Receiving twelve thousand florins in
gold, I took also the statement of accounts, and carried it out to the
Grandmother.
“Well, well,” she said, “I am no accountant. Let us hurry away, hurry
away.” And she waved the paper aside.
“Neither upon that accursed zero, however, nor upon that equally
accursed red do I mean to stake a cent,” I muttered to myself as I entered
the Casino.
This time I did all I could to persuade the old lady to stake as little as
possible—saying that a turn would come in the chances when she would be
at liberty to stake more. But she was so impatient that, though at first she
agreed to do as I suggested, nothing could stop her when once she had
begun. By way of prelude she won stakes of a hundred and two hundred
gülden.
“There you are!” she said as she nudged me. “See what we have won!
Surely it would be worth our while to stake four thousand instead of a
hundred, for we might win another four thousand, and then—! Oh, it was
YOUR fault before—all your fault!”
I felt greatly put out as I watched her play, but I decided to hold my
tongue, and to give her no more advice.
Suddenly De Griers appeared on the scene. It seemed that all this while
he and his companions had been standing beside us—though I noticed that
Mlle. Blanche had withdrawn a little from the rest, and was engaged in
flirting with the Prince. Clearly the General was greatly put out at this.
Indeed, he was in a perfect agony of vexation. But Mlle. was careful never
to look his way, though he did his best to attract her notice. Poor General!
By turns his face blanched and reddened, and he was trembling to such an
extent that he could scarcely follow the old lady’s play. At length Mlle. and
the Prince took their departure, and the General followed them.

“Madame, Madame,” sounded the honeyed accents of De Griers as he
leant over to whisper in the Grandmother’s ear. “That stake will never win.
No, no, it is impossible,” he added in Russian with a writhe. “No, no!”
“But why not?” asked the Grandmother, turning round. “Show me what I
ought to do.”
Instantly De Griers burst into a babble of French as he advised, jumped
about, declared that such and such chances ought to be waited for, and
started to make calculations of figures. All this he addressed to me in my
capacity as translator—tapping the table the while with his finger, and
pointing hither and thither. At length he seized a pencil, and began to reckon
sums on paper until he had exhausted the Grandmother’s patience.
“Away with you!” she interrupted. “You talk sheer nonsense, for, though
you keep on saying ‘Madame, Madame,’ you haven’t the least notion what
ought to be done. Away with you, I say!”
“Mais, Madame,” cooed De Griers—and straightway started afresh with
his fussy instructions.
“Stake just once, as he advises,” the Grandmother said to me, “and then
we shall see what we shall see. Of course, his stake might win.”
As a matter of fact, De Grier’s one object was to distract the old lady
from staking large sums; wherefore, he now suggested to her that she
should stake upon certain numbers, singly and in groups. Consequently, in
accordance with his instructions, I staked a ten-gülden piece upon several
odd numbers in the first twenty, and five ten-gülden pieces upon certain
groups of numbers-groups of from twelve to eighteen, and from eighteen to
twenty-four. The total staked amounted to 160 gülden.
The wheel revolved. “Zero!” cried the croupier.
We had lost it all!
“The fool!” cried the old lady as she turned upon De Griers. “You
infernal Frenchman, to think that you should advise! Away with you!
Though you fuss and fuss, you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Deeply offended, De Griers shrugged his shoulders, favoured the
Grandmother with a look of contempt, and departed. For some time past he
had been feeling ashamed of being seen in such company, and this had
proved the last straw.
An hour later we had lost everything in hand.

“Home!” cried the Grandmother.
Not until we had turned into the Avenue did she utter a word; but from
that point onwards, until we arrived at the hotel, she kept venting
exclamations of “What a fool I am! What a silly old fool I am, to be sure!”
Arrived at the hotel, she called for tea, and then gave orders for her
luggage to be packed.
“We are off again,” she announced.
“But whither, Madame?” inquired Martha.
“What business is that of yours? Let the cricket stick to its hearth.[2]
Potapitch, have everything packed, for we are returning to Moscow at once.
I have fooled away fifteen thousand roubles.”
[2] The Russian form of “Mind your own business.”

“Fifteen thousand roubles, good mistress? My God!” And Potapitch spat
upon his hands—probably to show that he was ready to serve her in any
way he could.
“Now then, you fool! At once you begin with your weeping and wailing!
Be quiet, and pack. Also, run downstairs, and get my hotel bill.”
“The next train leaves at 9:30, Madame,” I interposed, with a view to
checking her agitation.
“And what is the time now?”
“Half-past eight.”
“How vexing! But, never mind. Alexis Ivanovitch, I have not a kopeck
left; I have but these two bank notes. Please run to the office and get them
changed. Otherwise I shall have nothing to travel with.”
Departing on her errand, I returned half an hour later to find the whole
party gathered in her rooms. It appeared that the news of her impending
departure for Moscow had thrown the conspirators into consternation even
greater than her losses had done. For, said they, even if her departure should
save her fortune, what will become of the General later? And who is to
repay De Griers? Clearly Mlle. Blanche would never consent to wait until
the Grandmother was dead, but would at once elope with the Prince or
someone else. So they had all gathered together—endeavouring to calm and
dissuade the Grandmother. Only Polina was absent. For her part the
Grandmother had nothing for the party but abuse.

“Away with you, you rascals!” she was shouting. “What have my affairs
to do with you? Why, in particular, do you”—here she indicated De Griers
—“come sneaking here with your goat’s beard? And what do you”—here
she turned to Mlle. Blanche “want of me? What are you finicking for?”
“Diantre!” muttered Mlle. under her breath, but her eyes were flashing.
Then all at once she burst into a laugh and left the room—crying to the
General as she did so: “Elle vivra cent ans!”
“So you have been counting upon my death, have you?” fumed the old
lady. “Away with you! Clear them out of the room, Alexis Ivanovitch. What
business is it of theirs? It is not their money that I have been squandering,
but my own.”
The General shrugged his shoulders, bowed, and withdrew, with De
Griers behind him.
“Call Prascovia,” commanded the Grandmother, and in five minutes
Martha reappeared with Polina, who had been sitting with the children in
her own room (having purposely determined not to leave it that day). Her
face looked grave and careworn.
“Prascovia,” began the Grandmother, “is what I have just heard through a
side wind true—namely, that this fool of a stepfather of yours is going to
marry that silly whirligig of a Frenchwoman—that actress, or something
worse? Tell me, is it true?”
“I do not know for certain, Grandmamma,” replied Polina; “but from
Mlle. Blanche’s account (for she does not appear to think it necessary to
conceal anything) I conclude that—”
“You need not say any more,” interrupted the Grandmother energetically.
“I understand the situation. I always thought we should get something like
this from him, for I always looked upon him as a futile, frivolous fellow
who gave himself unconscionable airs on the fact of his being a general
(though he only became one because he retired as a colonel). Yes, I know
all about the sending of the telegrams to inquire whether ‘the old woman is
likely to turn up her toes soon.’ Ah, they were looking for the legacies!
Without money that wretched woman (what is her name?—Oh, De
Cominges) would never dream of accepting the General and his false teeth
—no, not even for him to be her lacquey—since she herself, they say,
possesses a pile of money, and lends it on interest, and makes a good thing
out of it. However, it is not you, Prascovia, that I am blaming; it was not

you who sent those telegrams. Nor, for that matter, do I wish to recall old
scores. True, I know that you are a vixen by nature—that you are a wasp
which will sting one if one touches it—yet, my heart is sore for you, for I
loved your mother, Katerina. Now, will you leave everything here, and
come away with me? Otherwise, I do not know what is to become of you,
and it is not right that you should continue living with these people. Nay,”
she interposed, the moment that Polina attempted to speak, “I have not yet
finished. I ask of you nothing in return. My house in Moscow is, as you
know, large enough for a palace, and you could occupy a whole floor of it if
you liked, and keep away from me for weeks together. Will you come with
me or will you not?”
“First of all, let me ask of you,” replied Polina, “whether you are
intending to depart at once?”
“What? You suppose me to be jesting? I have said that I am going, and I
am going. Today I have squandered fifteen thousand roubles at that
accursed roulette of yours, and though, five years ago, I promised the
people of a certain suburb of Moscow to build them a stone church in place
of a wooden one, I have been fooling away my money here! However, I am
going back now to build my church.”
“But what about the waters, Grandmamma? Surely you came here to take
the waters?”
“You and your waters! Do not anger me, Prascovia. Surely you are trying
to? Say, then: will you, or will you not, come with me?”
“Grandmamma,” Polina replied with deep feeling, “I am very, very
grateful to you for the shelter which you have so kindly offered me. Also, to
a certain extent you have guessed my position aright, and I am beholden to
you to such an extent that it may be that I will come and live with you, and
that very soon; yet there are important reasons why—why I cannot make up
my mind just yet. If you would let me have, say, a couple of weeks to
decide in—?”
“You mean that you are not coming?”
“I mean only that I cannot come just yet. At all events, I could not well
leave my little brother and sister here, since, since—if I were to leave them
—they would be abandoned altogether. But if, Grandmamma, you would
take the little ones and myself, then, of course, I could come with you, and

would do all I could to serve you” (this she said with great earnestness).
“Only, without the little ones I cannot come.”
“Do not make a fuss” (as a matter of fact Polina never at any time either
fussed or wept). “The Great Foster-Father[3] can find for all his chicks a
place. You are not coming without the children? But see here, Prascovia. I
wish you well, and nothing but well: yet I have divined the reason why you
will not come. Yes, I know all, Prascovia. That Frenchman will never bring
you good of any sort.”
[3] Translated literally—The Great Poulterer.

Polina coloured hotly, and even I started. “For,” thought I to myself,
“every one seems to know about that affair. Or perhaps I am the only one
who does not know about it?”
“Now, now! Do not frown,” continued the Grandmother. “But I do not
intend to slur things over. You will take care that no harm befalls you, will
you not? For you are a girl of sense, and I am sorry for you—I regard you
in a different light to the rest of them. And now, please, leave me. Good-
bye.”
“But let me stay with you a little longer,” said Polina.
“No,” replied the other; “you need not. Do not bother me, for you and all
of them have tired me out.”
Yet when Polina tried to kiss the Grandmother’s hand, the old lady
withdrew it, and herself kissed the girl on the cheek. As she passed me,
Polina gave me a momentary glance, and then as swiftly averted her eyes.
“And good-bye to you, also, Alexis Ivanovitch. The train starts in an
hour’s time, and I think that you must be weary of me. Take these five
hundred gülden for yourself.”
“I thank you humbly, Madame, but I am ashamed to—”
“Come, come!” cried the Grandmother so energetically, and with such an
air of menace, that I did not dare refuse the money further.
“If, when in Moscow, you have no place where you can lay your head,”
she added, “come and see me, and I will give you a recommendation. Now,
Potapitch, get things ready.”
I ascended to my room, and lay down upon the bed. A whole hour I must
have lain thus, with my head resting upon my hand. So the crisis had come!

I needed time for its consideration. To-morrow I would have a talk with
Polina. Ah! The Frenchman! So, it was true? But how could it be so? Polina
and De Griers! What a combination!
No, it was too improbable. Suddenly I leapt up with the idea of seeking
Astley and forcing him to speak. There could be no doubt that he knew
more than I did. Astley? Well, he was another problem for me to solve.
Suddenly there came a knock at the door, and I opened it to find
Potapitch awaiting me.
“Sir,” he said, “my mistress is asking for you.”
“Indeed? But she is just departing, is she not? The train leaves in ten
minutes’ time.”
“She is uneasy, sir; she cannot rest. Come quickly, sir; do not delay.”
I ran downstairs at once. The Grandmother was just being carried out of
her rooms into the corridor. In her hands she held a roll of bank-notes.
“Alexis Ivanovitch,” she cried, “walk on ahead, and we will set out
again.”
“But whither, Madame?”
“I cannot rest until I have retrieved my losses. March on ahead, and ask
me no questions. Play continues until midnight, does it not?”
For a moment I stood stupefied—stood deep in thought; but it was not
long before I had made up my mind.
“With your leave, Madame,” I said, “I will not go with you.”
“And why not? What do you mean? Is every one here a stupid good-for-
nothing?”
“Pardon me, but I have nothing to reproach myself with. I merely will not
go. I merely intend neither to witness nor to join in your play. I also beg to
return you your five hundred gülden. Farewell.”
Laying the money upon a little table which the Grandmother’s chair
happened to be passing, I bowed and withdrew.
“What folly!” the Grandmother shouted after me. “Very well, then. Do
not come, and I will find my way alone. Potapitch, you must come with me.
Lift up the chair, and carry me along.”
I failed to find Mr. Astley, and returned home. It was now growing late—
it was past midnight, but I subsequently learnt from Potapitch how the

Grandmother’s day had ended. She had lost all the money which, earlier in
the day, I had got for her paper securities—a sum amounting to about ten
thousand roubles. This she did under the direction of the Pole whom, that
afternoon, she had dowered with two ten-gülden pieces. But before his
arrival on the scene, she had commanded Potapitch to stake for her; until at
length she had told him also to go about his business. Upon that the Pole
had leapt into the breach. Not only did it happen that he knew the Russian
language, but also he could speak a mixture of three different dialects, so
that the pair were able to understand one another. Yet the old lady never
ceased to abuse him, despite his deferential manner, and to compare him
unfavourably with myself (so, at all events, Potapitch declared). “You,” the
old chamberlain said to me, “treated her as a gentleman should, but he—he
robbed her right and left, as I could see with my own eyes. Twice she
caught him at it, and rated him soundly. On one occasion she even pulled
his hair, so that the bystanders burst out laughing. Yet she lost everything,
sir—that is to say, she lost all that you had changed for her. Then we
brought her home, and, after asking for some water and saying her prayers,
she went to bed. So worn out was she that she fell asleep at once. May God
send her dreams of angels! And this is all that foreign travel has done for
us! Oh, my own Moscow! For what have we not at home there, in Moscow?
Such a garden and flowers as you could never see here, and fresh air and
apple-trees coming into blossom,—and a beautiful view to look upon. Ah,
but what must she do but go travelling abroad? Alack, alack!”

XIII

Almost a month has passed since I last touched these notes—notes which
I began under the influence of impressions at once poignant and disordered.
The crisis which I then felt to be approaching has now arrived, but in a form
a hundred times more extensive and unexpected than I had looked for. To
me it all seems strange, uncouth, and tragic. Certain occurrences have
befallen me which border upon the marvellous. At all events, that is how I
view them. I view them so in one regard at least. I refer to the whirlpool of
events in which, at the time, I was revolving. But the most curious feature
of all is my relation to those events, for hitherto I had never clearly
understood myself. Yet now the actual crisis has passed away like a dream.
Even my passion for Polina is dead. Was it ever so strong and genuine as I
thought? If so, what has become of it now? At times I fancy that I must be
mad; that somewhere I am sitting in a madhouse; that these events have
merely seemed to happen; that still they merely seem to be happening.
I have been arranging and re-perusing my notes (perhaps for the purpose
of convincing myself that I am not in a madhouse). At present I am lonely
and alone. Autumn is coming—already it is mellowing the leaves; and, as I
sit brooding in this melancholy little town (and how melancholy the little
towns of Germany can be!), I find myself taking no thought for the future,
but living under the influence of passing moods, and of my recollections of
the tempest which recently drew me into its vortex, and then cast me out
again. At times I seem still to be caught within that vortex. At times, the
tempest seems once more to be gathering, and, as it passes overhead, to be
wrapping me in its folds, until I have lost my sense of order and reality, and
continue whirling and whirling and whirling around.
Yet, it may be that I shall be able to stop myself from revolving if once I
can succeed in rendering myself an exact account of what has happened
within the month just past. Somehow I feel drawn towards the pen; on
many and many an evening I have had nothing else in the world to do. But,

curiously enough, of late I have taken to amusing myself with the works of
M. Paul de Kock, which I read in German translations obtained from a
wretched local library. These works I cannot abide, yet I read them, and find
myself marvelling that I should be doing so. Somehow I seem to be afraid
of any serious book—afraid of permitting any serious preoccupation to
break the spell of the passing moment. So dear to me is the formless dream
of which I have spoken, so dear to me are the impressions which it has left
behind it, that I fear to touch the vision with anything new, lest it should
dissolve in smoke. But is it so dear to me? Yes, it is dear to me, and will
ever be fresh in my recollections—even forty years hence....
So let me write of it, but only partially, and in a more abridged form than
my full impressions might warrant.
First of all, let me conclude the history of the Grandmother. Next day she
lost every gülden that she possessed. Things were bound to happen so, for
persons of her type who have once entered upon that road descend it with
ever-increasing rapidity, even as a sledge descends a toboggan-slide. All
day until eight o’clock that evening did she play; and, though I personally
did not witness her exploits, I learnt of them later through report.
All that day Potapitch remained in attendance upon her; but the Poles
who directed her play she changed more than once. As a beginning she
dismissed her Pole of the previous day—the Pole whose hair she had pulled
—and took to herself another one; but the latter proved worse even than the
former, and incurred dismissal in favour of the first Pole, who, during the
time of his unemployment, had nevertheless hovered around the
Grandmother’s chair, and from time to time obtruded his head over her
shoulder. At length the old lady became desperate, for the second Pole,
when dismissed, imitated his predecessor by declining to go away; with the
result that one Pole remained standing on the right of the victim, and the
other on her left; from which vantage points the pair quarrelled, abused
each other concerning the stakes and rounds, and exchanged the epithet
“laidak”[4] and other Polish terms of endearment. Finally, they effected a
mutual reconciliation, and, tossing the money about anyhow, played simply
at random. Once more quarrelling, each of them staked money on his own
side of the Grandmother’s chair (for instance, the one Pole staked upon the
red, and the other one upon the black), until they had so confused and
browbeaten the old lady that, nearly weeping, she was forced to appeal to

the head croupier for protection, and to have the two Poles expelled. No
time was lost in this being done, despite the rascals’ cries and protestations
that the old lady was in their debt, that she had cheated them, and that her
general behaviour had been mean and dishonourable. The same evening the
unfortunate Potapitch related the story to me with tears complaining that the
two men had filled their pockets with money (he himself had seen them do
it) which had been shamelessly pilfered from his mistress. For instance, one
Pole demanded of the Grandmother fifty gülden for his trouble, and then
staked the money by the side of her stake. She happened to win; whereupon
he cried out that the winning stake was his, and hers the loser. As soon as
the two Poles had been expelled, Potapitch left the room, and reported to
the authorities that the men’s pockets were full of gold; and, on the
Grandmother also requesting the head croupier to look into the affair, the
police made their appearance, and, despite the protests of the Poles (who,
indeed, had been caught redhanded), their pockets were turned inside out,
and the contents handed over to the Grandmother. In fact, in, view of the
circumstance that she lost all day, the croupiers and other authorities of the
Casino showed her every attention; and on her fame spreading through the
town, visitors of every nationality—even the most knowing of them, the
most distinguished—crowded to get a glimpse of “la vieille comtesse russe,
tombée en enfance,” who had lost “so many millions.”
[4] Rascal

Yet with the money which the authorities restored to her from the pockets
of the Poles the Grandmother effected very, very little, for there soon
arrived to take his countrymen’s place, a third Pole—a man who could
speak Russian fluently, was dressed like a gentleman (albeit in lacqueyish
fashion), and sported a huge moustache. Though polite enough to the old
lady, he took a high hand with the bystanders. In short, he offered himself
less as a servant than as an entertainer. After each round he would turn to
the old lady, and swear terrible oaths to the effect that he was a “Polish
gentleman of honour” who would scorn to take a kopeck of her money; and,
though he repeated these oaths so often that at length she grew alarmed, he
had her play in hand, and began to win on her behalf; wherefore, she felt
that she could not well get rid of him. An hour later the two Poles who,
earlier in the day, had been expelled from the Casino, made a reappearance
behind the old lady’s chair, and renewed their offers of service—even if it

were only to be sent on messages; but from Potapitch I subsequently had it
that between these rascals and the said “gentleman of honour” there passed
a wink, as well as that the latter put something into their hands. Next, since
the Grandmother had not yet lunched—she had scarcely for a moment left
her chair—one of the two Poles ran to the restaurant of the Casino, and
brought her thence a cup of soup, and afterwards some tea. In fact, both the
Poles hastened to perform this office. Finally, towards the close of the day,
when it was clear that the Grandmother was about to play her last bank-
note, there could be seen standing behind her chair no fewer than six
natives of Poland—persons who, as yet, had been neither audible nor
visible; and as soon as ever the old lady played the note in question, they
took no further notice of her, but pushed their way past her chair to the
table; seized the money, and staked it—shouting and disputing the while,
and arguing with the “gentleman of honour” (who also had forgotten the
Grandmother’s existence), as though he were their equal. Even when the
Grandmother had lost her all, and was returning (about eight o’clock) to the
hotel, some three or four Poles could not bring themselves to leave her, but
went on running beside her chair and volubly protesting that the
Grandmother had cheated them, and that she ought to be made to surrender
what was not her own. Thus the party arrived at the hotel; whence,
presently, the gang of rascals was ejected neck and crop.
According to Potapitch’s calculations, the Grandmother lost, that day, a
total of ninety thousand roubles, in addition to the money which she had
lost the day before. Every paper security which she had brought with her—
five percent bonds, internal loan scrip, and what not—she had changed into
cash. Also, I could not but marvel at the way in which, for seven or eight
hours at a stretch, she sat in that chair of hers, almost never leaving the
table. Again, Potapitch told me that there were three occasions on which she
really began to win; but that, led on by false hopes, she was unable to tear
herself away at the right moment. Every gambler knows how a person may
sit a day and a night at cards without ever casting a glance to right or to left.
Meanwhile, that day some other very important events were passing in
our hotel. As early as eleven o’clock—that is to say, before the
Grandmother had quitted her rooms—the General and De Griers decided
upon their last stroke. In other words, on learning that the old lady had
changed her mind about departing, and was bent on setting out for the
Casino again, the whole of our gang (Polina only excepted) proceeded en

masse to her rooms, for the purpose of finally and frankly treating with her.
But the General, quaking and greatly apprehensive as to his possible future,
overdid things. After half an hour’s prayers and entreaties, coupled with a
full confession of his debts, and even of his passion for Mlle. Blanche (yes,
he had quite lost his head), he suddenly adopted a tone of menace, and
started to rage at the old lady—exclaiming that she was sullying the family
honour, that she was making a public scandal of herself, and that she was
smirching the fair name of Russia. The upshot was that the Grandmother
turned him out of the room with her stick (it was a real stick, too!). Later in
the morning he held several consultations with De Griers—the question
which occupied him being: Is it in any way possible to make use of the
police—to tell them that “this respected, but unfortunate, old lady has gone
out of her mind, and is squandering her last kopeck,” or something of the
kind? In short, is it in any way possible to engineer a species of supervision
over, or of restraint upon, the old lady? De Griers, however, shrugged his
shoulders at this, and laughed in the General’s face, while the old warrior
went on chattering volubly, and running up and down his study. Finally De
Griers waved his hand, and disappeared from view; and by evening it
became known that he had left the hotel, after holding a very secret and
important conference with Mlle. Blanche. As for the latter, from early
morning she had taken decisive measures, by completely excluding the
General from her presence, and bestowing upon him not a glance. Indeed,
even when the General pursued her to the Casino, and met her walking arm
in arm with the Prince, he (the General) received from her and her mother
not the slightest recognition. Nor did the Prince himself bow. The rest of the
day Mlle. spent in probing the Prince, and trying to make him declare
himself; but in this she made a woeful mistake. The little incident occurred
in the evening. Suddenly Mlle. Blanche realised that the Prince had not
even a copper to his name, but, on the contrary, was minded to borrow of
her money wherewith to play at roulette. In high displeasure she drove him
from her presence, and shut herself up in her room.
The same morning I went to see—or, rather, to look for—Mr. Astley, but
was unsuccessful in my quest. Neither in his rooms nor in the Casino nor in
the Park was he to be found; nor did he, that day, lunch at his hotel as usual.
However, at about five o’clock I caught sight of him walking from the
railway station to the Hôtel d’Angleterre. He seemed to be in a great hurry
and much preoccupied, though in his face I could discern no actual traces of

worry or perturbation. He held out to me a friendly hand, with his usual
ejaculation of “Ah!” but did not check his stride. I turned and walked beside
him, but found, somehow, that his answers forbade any putting of definite
questions. Moreover, I felt reluctant to speak to him of Polina; nor, for his
part, did he ask me any questions concerning her, although, on my telling
him of the Grandmother’s exploits, he listened attentively and gravely, and
then shrugged his shoulders.
“She is gambling away everything that she has,” I remarked.
“Indeed? She arrived at the Casino even before I had taken my departure
by train, so I knew she had been playing. If I should have time I will go to
the Casino to-night, and take a look at her. The thing interests me.”
“Where have you been today?” I asked—surprised at myself for having,
as yet, omitted to put to him that question.
“To Frankfort.”
“On business?”
“On business.”
What more was there to be asked after that? I accompanied him until, as
we drew level with the Hotel des Quatre Saisons, he suddenly nodded to me
and disappeared. For myself, I returned home, and came to the conclusion
that, even had I met him at two o’clock in the afternoon, I should have
learnt no more from him than I had done at five o’clock, for the reason that
I had no definite question to ask. It was bound to have been so. For me to
formulate the query which I really wished to put was a simple impossibility.
Polina spent the whole of that day either in walking about the park with
the nurse and children or in sitting in her own room. For a long while past
she had avoided the General and had scarcely had a word to say to him
(scarcely a word, I mean, on any serious topic). Yes, that I had noticed.
Still, even though I was aware of the position in which the General was
placed, it had never occurred to me that he would have any reason to avoid
her, or to trouble her with family explanations. Indeed, when I was
returning to the hotel after my conversation with Astley, and chanced to
meet Polina and the children, I could see that her face was as calm as
though the family disturbances had never touched her. To my salute she
responded with a slight bow, and I retired to my room in a very bad humour.

Of course, since the affair with the Burmergelms I had exchanged not a
word with Polina, nor had with her any kind of intercourse. Yet I had been
at my wits’ end, for, as time went on, there was arising in me an ever-
seething dissatisfaction. Even if she did not love me she ought not to have
trampled upon my feelings, nor to have accepted my confessions with such
contempt, seeing that she must have been aware that I loved her (of her own
accord she had allowed me to tell her as much). Of course the situation
between us had arisen in a curious manner. About two months ago, I had
noticed that she had a desire to make me her friend, her confidant—that she
was making trial of me for the purpose; but, for some reason or another, the
desired result had never come about, and we had fallen into the present
strange relations, which had led me to address her as I had done. At the
same time, if my love was distasteful to her, why had she not forbidden me
to speak of it to her?
But she had not so forbidden me. On the contrary, there had been
occasions when she had even invited me to speak. Of course, this might
have been done out of sheer wantonness, for I well knew—I had remarked
it only too often—that, after listening to what I had to say, and angering me
almost beyond endurance, she loved suddenly to torture me with some fresh
outburst of contempt and aloofness! Yet she must have known that I could
not live without her. Three days had elapsed since the affair with the Baron,
and I could bear the severance no longer. When, that afternoon, I met her
near the Casino, my heart almost made me faint, it beat so violently. She too
could not live without me, for had she not said that she had need of me? Or
had that too been spoken in jest?
That she had a secret of some kind there could be no doubt. What she had
said to the Grandmother had stabbed me to the heart. On a thousand
occasions I had challenged her to be open with me, nor could she have been
ignorant that I was ready to give my very life for her. Yet always she had
kept me at a distance with that contemptuous air of hers; or else she had
demanded of me, in lieu of the life which I offered to lay at her feet, such
escapades as I had perpetrated with the Baron. Ah, was it not torture to me,
all this? For could it be that her whole world was bound up with the
Frenchman? What, too, about Mr. Astley? The affair was inexplicable
throughout. My God, what distress it caused me!
Arrived home, I, in a fit of frenzy, indited the following:

“Polina Alexandrovna, I can see that there is approaching us an exposure
which will involve you too. For the last time I ask of you—have you, or
have you not, any need of my life? If you have, then make such dispositions
as you wish, and I shall always be discoverable in my room if required. If
you have need of my life, write or send for me.”
I sealed the letter, and dispatched it by the hand of a corridor lacquey,
with orders to hand it to the addressee in person. Though I expected no
answer, scarcely three minutes had elapsed before the lacquey returned with
“the compliments of a certain person.”
Next, about seven o’clock, I was sent for by the General. I found him in
his study, apparently preparing to go out again, for his hat and stick were
lying on the sofa. When I entered he was standing in the middle of the room
—his feet wide apart, and his head bent down. Also, he appeared to be
talking to himself. But as soon as ever he saw me at the door he came
towards me in such a curious manner that involuntarily I retreated a step,
and was for leaving the room; whereupon he seized me by both hands, and,
drawing me towards the sofa, and seating himself thereon, he forced me to
sit down on a chair opposite him. Then, without letting go of my hands, he
exclaimed with quivering lips and a sparkle of tears on his eyelashes:
“Oh, Alexis Ivanovitch! Save me, save me! Have some mercy upon me!”
For a long time I could not make out what he meant, although he kept
talking and talking, and constantly repeating to himself, “Have mercy,
mercy!” At length, however, I divined that he was expecting me to give him
something in the nature of advice—or, rather, that, deserted by every one,
and overwhelmed with grief and apprehension, he had bethought himself of
my existence, and sent for me to relieve his feelings by talking and talking
and talking.
In fact, he was in such a confused and despondent state of mind that,
clasping his hands together, he actually went down upon his knees and
begged me to go to Mlle. Blanche, and beseech and advise her to return to
him, and to accept him in marriage.
“But, General,” I exclaimed, “possibly Mlle. Blanche has scarcely even
remarked my existence? What could I do with her?”
It was in vain that I protested, for he could understand nothing that was
said to him, Next he started talking about the Grandmother, but always in a
disconnected sort of fashion—his one thought being to send for the police.

“In Russia,” said he, suddenly boiling over with indignation, “or in any
well-ordered State where there exists a government, old women like my
mother are placed under proper guardianship. Yes, my good sir,” he went
on, relapsing into a scolding tone as he leapt to his feet and started to pace
the room, “do you not know this” (he seemed to be addressing some
imaginary auditor in the corner) “—do you not know this, that in Russia old
women like her are subjected to restraint, the devil take them?” Again he
threw himself down upon the sofa.
A minute later, though sobbing and almost breathless, he managed to
gasp out that Mlle. Blanche had refused to marry him, for the reason that
the Grandmother had turned up in place of a telegram, and it was therefore
clear that he had no inheritance to look for. Evidently, he supposed that I
had hitherto been in entire ignorance of all this. Again, when I referred to
De Griers, the General made a gesture of despair. “He has gone away,” he
said, “and everything which I possess is mortgaged to him. I stand stripped
to my skin. Even of the money which you brought me from Paris, I know
not if seven hundred francs be left. Of course that sum will do to go on
with, but, as regards the future, I know nothing, I know nothing.”
“Then how will you pay your hotel bill?” I cried in consternation. “And
what shall you do afterwards?”
He looked at me vaguely, but it was clear that he had not understood—
perhaps had not even heard—my questions. Then I tried to get him to speak
of Polina and the children, but he only returned brief answers of “Yes, yes,”
and again started to maunder about the Prince, and the likelihood of the
latter marrying Mlle. Blanche. “What on earth am I to do?” he concluded.
“What on earth am I to do? Is this not ingratitude? Is it not sheer
ingratitude?” And he burst into tears.
Nothing could be done with such a man. Yet to leave him alone was
dangerous, for something might happen to him. I withdrew from his rooms
for a little while, but warned the nursemaid to keep an eye upon him, as
well as exchanged a word with the corridor lacquey (a very talkative
fellow), who likewise promised to remain on the look-out.
Hardly had I left the General, when Potapitch approached me with a
summons from the Grandmother. It was now eight o’clock, and she had
returned from the Casino after finally losing all that she possessed. I found
her sitting in her chair—much distressed and evidently fatigued. Presently

Martha brought her up a cup of tea and forced her to drink it; yet, even then
I could detect in the old lady’s tone and manner a great change.
“Good evening, Alexis Ivanovitch,” she said slowly, with her head
drooping. “Pardon me for disturbing you again. Yes, you must pardon an
old, old woman like myself, for I have left behind me all that I possess—
nearly a hundred thousand roubles! You did quite right in declining to come
with me this evening. Now I am without money—without a single groat.
But I must not delay a moment; I must leave by the 9:30 train. I have sent
for that English friend of yours, and am going to beg of him three thousand
francs for a week. Please try and persuade him to think nothing of it, nor yet
to refuse me, for I am still a rich woman who possesses three villages and a
couple of mansions. Yes, the money shall be found, for I have not yet
squandered everything. I tell you this in order that he may have no doubts
about—Ah, but here he is! Clearly he is a good fellow.”
True enough, Astley had come hot-foot on receiving the Grandmother’s
appeal. Scarcely stopping even to reflect, and with scarcely a word, he
counted out the three thousand francs under a note of hand which she duly
signed. Then, his business done, he bowed, and lost no time in taking his
departure.
“You too leave me, Alexis Ivanovitch,” said the Grandmother. “All my
bones are aching, and I still have an hour in which to rest. Do not be hard
upon me, old fool that I am. Never again shall I blame young people for
being frivolous. I should think it wrong even to blame that unhappy General
of yours. Nevertheless, I do not mean to let him have any of my money
(which is all that he desires), for the reason that I look upon him as a perfect
blockhead, and consider myself, simpleton though I be, at least wiser than
he is. How surely does God visit old age, and punish it for its presumption!
Well, good-bye. Martha, come and lift me up.”
However, I had a mind to see the old lady off; and, moreover, I was in an
expectant frame of mind—somehow I kept thinking that something was
going to happen; wherefore, I could not rest quietly in my room, but
stepped out into the corridor, and then into the Chestnut Avenue for a few
minutes’ stroll. My letter to Polina had been clear and firm, and in the
present crisis, I felt sure, would prove final. I had heard of De Griers’
departure, and, however much Polina might reject me as a friend, she might

not reject me altogether as a servant. She would need me to fetch and carry
for her, and I was ready to do so. How could it have been otherwise?
Towards the hour of the train’s departure I hastened to the station, and put
the Grandmother into her compartment—she and her party occupying a
reserved family saloon.
“Thanks for your disinterested assistance,” she said at parting. “Oh, and
please remind Prascovia of what I said to her last night. I expect soon to see
her.”
Then I returned home. As I was passing the door of the General’s suite, I
met the nursemaid, and inquired after her master. “There is nothing new to
report, sir,” she replied quietly. Nevertheless I decided to enter, and was just
doing so when I halted thunderstruck on the threshold. For before me I
beheld the General and Mlle. Blanche—laughing gaily at one another!—
while beside them, on the sofa, there was seated her mother. Clearly the
General was almost out of his mind with joy, for he was talking all sorts of
nonsense, and bubbling over with a long-drawn, nervous laugh—a laugh
which twisted his face into innumerable wrinkles, and caused his eyes
almost to disappear.
Afterwards I learnt from Mlle. Blanche herself that, after dismissing the
Prince and hearing of the General’s tears, she bethought her of going to
comfort the old man, and had just arrived for the purpose when I entered.
Fortunately, the poor General did not know that his fate had been decided—
that Mlle. had long ago packed her trunks in readiness for the first morning
train to Paris!
Hesitating a moment on the threshold I changed my mind as to entering,
and departed unnoticed. Ascending to my own room, and opening the door,
I perceived in the semi-darkness a figure seated on a chair in the corner by
the window. The figure did not rise when I entered, so I approached it
swiftly, peered at it closely, and felt my heart almost stop beating. The
figure was Polina!

XIV

The shock made me utter an exclamation.
“What is the matter? What is the matter?” she asked in a strange voice.
She was looking pale, and her eyes were dim.
“What is the matter?” I re-echoed. “Why, the fact that you are here!”
“If I am here, I have come with all that I have to bring,” she said. “Such
has always been my way, as you shall presently see. Please light a candle.”
I did so; whereupon she rose, approached the table, and laid upon it an
open letter.
“Read it,” she added.
“It is De Griers’ handwriting!” I cried as I seized the document. My
hands were so tremulous that the lines on the pages danced before my eyes.
Although, at this distance of time, I have forgotten the exact phraseology of
the missive, I append, if not the precise words, at all events the general
sense.
“Mademoiselle,” the document ran, “certain untoward circumstances
compel me to depart in haste. Of course, you have of yourself remarked that
hitherto I have always refrained from having any final explanation with
you, for the reason that I could not well state the whole circumstances; and
now to my difficulties the advent of the aged Grandmother, coupled with
her subsequent proceedings, has put the final touch. Also, the involved state
of my affairs forbids me to write with any finality concerning those hopes
of ultimate bliss upon which, for a long while past, I have permitted myself
to feed. I regret the past, but at the same time hope that in my conduct you
have never been able to detect anything that was unworthy of a gentleman
and a man of honour. Having lost, however, almost the whole of my money
in debts incurred by your stepfather, I find myself driven to the necessity of
saving the remainder; wherefore, I have instructed certain friends of mine in
St. Petersburg to arrange for the sale of all the property which has been

mortgaged to myself. At the same time, knowing that, in addition, your
frivolous stepfather has squandered money which is exclusively yours, I
have decided to absolve him from a certain moiety of the mortgages on his
property, in order that you may be in a position to recover of him what you
have lost, by suing him in legal fashion. I trust, therefore, that, as matters
now stand, this action of mine may bring you some advantage. I trust also
that this same action leaves me in the position of having fulfilled every
obligation which is incumbent upon a man of honour and refinement. Rest
assured that your memory will for ever remain graven in my heart.”
“All this is clear enough,” I commented. “Surely you did not expect
aught else from him?” Somehow I was feeling annoyed.
“I expected nothing at all from him,” she replied—quietly enough, to all
outward seeming, yet with a note of irritation in her tone. “Long ago I made
up my mind on the subject, for I could read his thoughts, and knew what he
was thinking. He thought that possibly I should sue him—that one day I
might become a nuisance.” Here Polina halted for a moment, and stood
biting her lips. “So of set purpose I redoubled my contemptuous treatment
of him, and waited to see what he would do. If a telegram to say that we had
become legatees had arrived from, St. Petersburg, I should have flung at
him a quittance for my foolish stepfather’s debts, and then dismissed him.
For a long time I have hated him. Even in earlier days he was not a man;
and now!—Oh, how gladly I could throw those fifty thousand roubles in his
face, and spit in it, and then rub the spittle in!”
“But the document returning the fifty-thousand rouble mortgage—has the
General got it? If so, possess yourself of it, and send it to De Griers.”
“No, no; the General has not got it.”
“Just as I expected! Well, what is the General going to do?” Then an idea
suddenly occurred to me. “What about the Grandmother?” I asked.
Polina looked at me with impatience and bewilderment.
“What makes you speak of her?” was her irritable inquiry. “I cannot go
and live with her. Nor,” she added hotly, “will I go down upon my knees to
any one.”
“Why should you?” I cried. “Yet to think that you should have loved De
Griers! The villain, the villain! But I will kill him in a duel. Where is he
now?”

“In Frankfort, where he will be staying for the next three days.”
“Well, bid me do so, and I will go to him by the first train tomorrow,” I
exclaimed with enthusiasm.
She smiled.
“If you were to do that,” she said, “he would merely tell you to be so
good as first to return him the fifty thousand francs. What, then, would be
the use of having a quarrel with him? You talk sheer nonsense.”
I ground my teeth.
“The question,” I went on, “is how to raise the fifty thousand francs. We
cannot expect to find them lying about on the floor. Listen. What of Mr.
Astley?” Even as I spoke a new and strange idea formed itself in my brain.
Her eyes flashed fire.
“What? you yourself wish me to leave you for him?” she cried with a
scornful look and a proud smile. Never before had she addressed me thus.
Then her head must have turned dizzy with emotion, for suddenly she
seated herself upon the sofa, as though she were powerless any longer to
stand.
A flash of lightning seemed to strike me as I stood there. I could scarcely
believe my eyes or my ears. She did love me, then! It was to me, and not to
Mr. Astley, that she had turned! Although she, an unprotected girl, had
come to me in my room—in an hotel room—and had probably
compromised herself thereby, I had not understood!
Then a second mad idea flashed into my brain.
“Polina,” I said, “give me but an hour. Wait here just one hour until I
return. Yes, you MUST do so. Do you not see what I mean? Just stay here
for that time.”
And I rushed from the room without so much as answering her look of
inquiry. She called something after me, but I did not return.
Sometimes it happens that the most insane thought, the most impossible
conception, will become so fixed in one’s head that at length one believes
the thought or the conception to be reality. Moreover, if with the thought or
the conception there is combined a strong, a passionate, desire, one will
come to look upon the said thought or conception as something fated,
inevitable, and foreordained—something bound to happen. Whether by this

there is connoted something in the nature of a combination of
presentiments, or a great effort of will, or a self-annulment of one’s true
expectations, and so on, I do not know; but, at all events that night saw
happen to me (a night which I shall never forget) something in the nature of
the miraculous. Although the occurrence can easily be explained by
arithmetic, I still believe it to have been a miracle. Yet why did this
conviction take such a hold upon me at the time, and remain with me ever
since? Previously, I had thought of the idea, not as an occurrence which was
ever likely to come about, but as something which never could come about.
The time was a quarter past eleven o’clock when I entered the Casino in
such a state of hope (though, at the same time, of agitation) as I had never
before experienced. In the gaming-rooms there were still a large number of
people, but not half as many as had been present in the morning.
At eleven o’clock there usually remained behind only the real, the
desperate gamblers—persons for whom, at spas, there existed nothing
beyond roulette, and who went thither for that alone. These gamesters took
little note of what was going on around them, and were interested in none of
the appurtenances of the season, but played from morning till night, and
would have been ready to play through the night until dawn had that been
possible. As it was, they used to disperse unwillingly when, at midnight,
roulette came to an end. Likewise, as soon as ever roulette was drawing to a
close and the head croupier had called “Les trois derniers coups,” most of
them were ready to stake on the last three rounds all that they had in their
pockets—and, for the most part, lost it. For my own part I proceeded
towards the table at which the Grandmother had lately sat; and, since the
crowd around it was not very large, I soon obtained standing room among
the ring of gamblers, while directly in front of me, on the green cloth, I saw
marked the word “Passe.”
“Passe” was a row of numbers from 19 to 36 inclusive; while a row of
numbers from 1 to 18 inclusive was known as “Manque.” But what had that
to do with me? I had not noticed—I had not so much as heard the numbers
upon which the previous coup had fallen, and so took no bearings when I
began to play, as, in my place, any systematic gambler would have done.
No, I merely extended my stock of twenty ten-gülden pieces, and threw
them down upon the space “Passe” which happened to be confronting me.
“Vingt-deux!” called the croupier.

I had won! I staked upon the same again—both my original stake and my
winnings.
“Trente-et-un!” called the croupier.
Again I had won, and was now in possession of eighty ten-gülden pieces.
Next, I moved the whole eighty on to twelve middle numbers (a stake
which, if successful, would bring me in a triple profit, but also involved a
risk of two chances to one). The wheel revolved, and stopped at twenty-
four. Upon this I was paid out notes and gold until I had by my side a total
sum of two thousand gülden.
It was as in a fever that I moved the pile, en bloc, on to the red. Then
suddenly I came to myself (though that was the only time during the
evening’s play when fear cast its cold spell over me, and showed itself in a
trembling of the hands and knees). For with horror I had realised that I must
win, and that upon that stake there depended all my life.
“Rouge!” called the croupier. I drew a long breath, and hot shivers went
coursing over my body. I was paid out my winnings in bank-notes—
amounting, of course, to a total of four thousand florins, eight hundred
gülden (I could still calculate the amounts).
After that, I remember, I again staked two thousand florins upon twelve
middle numbers, and lost. Again I staked the whole of my gold, with eight
hundred gülden, in notes, and lost. Then madness seemed to come upon me,
and seizing my last two thousand florins, I staked them upon twelve of the
first numbers—wholly by chance, and at random, and without any sort of
reckoning. Upon my doing so there followed a moment of suspense only
comparable to that which Madame Blanchard must have experienced when,
in Paris, she was descending earthwards from a balloon.
“Quatre!” called the croupier.
Once more, with the addition of my original stake, I was in possession of
six thousand florins! Once more I looked around me like a conqueror—
once more I feared nothing as I threw down four thousand of these florins
upon the black. The croupiers glanced around them, and exchanged a few
words; the bystanders murmured expectantly.
The black turned up. After that I do not exactly remember either my
calculations or the order of my stakings. I only remember that, as in a
dream, I won in one round sixteen thousand florins; that in the three

following rounds, I lost twelve thousand; that I moved the remainder (four
thousand) on to “Passe” (though quite unconscious of what I was doing—I
was merely waiting, as it were, mechanically, and without reflection, for
something) and won; and that, finally, four times in succession I lost. Yes, I
can remember raking in money by thousands—but most frequently on the
twelve, middle numbers, to which I constantly adhered, and which kept
appearing in a sort of regular order—first, three or four times running, and
then, after an interval of a couple of rounds, in another break of three or
four appearances. Sometimes, this astonishing regularity manifested itself
in patches; a thing to upset all the calculations of note—taking gamblers
who play with a pencil and a memorandum-book in their hands Fortune
perpetrates some terrible jests at roulette!
Since my entry not more than half an hour could have elapsed. Suddenly
a croupier informed me that I had, won thirty thousand florins, as well as
that, since the latter was the limit for which, at any one time, the bank could
make itself responsible, roulette at that table must close for the night.
Accordingly, I caught up my pile of gold, stuffed it into my pocket, and,
grasping my sheaf of bank-notes, moved to the table in an adjoining salon
where a second game of roulette was in progress. The crowd followed me in
a body, and cleared a place for me at the table; after which, I proceeded to
stake as before—that is to say, at random and without calculating. What
saved me from ruin I do not know.
Of course there were times when fragmentary reckonings did come
flashing into my brain. For instance, there were times when I attached
myself for a while to certain figures and coups—though always leaving
them, again before long, without knowing what I was doing.
In fact, I cannot have been in possession of all my faculties, for I can
remember the croupiers correcting my play more than once, owing to my
having made mistakes of the gravest order. My brows were damp with
sweat, and my hands were shaking. Also, Poles came around me to proffer
their services, but I heeded none of them. Nor did my luck fail me now.
Suddenly, there arose around me a loud din of talking and laughter. “Bravo,
bravo!” was the general shout, and some people even clapped their hands. I
had raked in thirty thousand florins, and again the bank had had to close for
the night!

“Go away now, go away now,” a voice whispered to me on my right. The
person who had spoken to me was a certain Jew of Frankfurt—a man who
had been standing beside me the whole while, and occasionally helping me
in my play.
“Yes, for God’s sake go,” whispered a second voice in my left ear.
Glancing around, I perceived that the second voice had come from a
modestly, plainly dressed lady of rather less than thirty—a woman whose
face, though pale and sickly-looking, bore also very evident traces of
former beauty. At the moment, I was stuffing the crumpled bank-notes into
my pockets and collecting all the gold that was left on the table. Seizing up
my last note for five hundred gülden, I contrived to insinuate it,
unperceived, into the hand of the pale lady. An overpowering impulse had
made me do so, and I remember how her thin little fingers pressed mine in
token of her lively gratitude. The whole affair was the work of a moment.
Then, collecting my belongings, I crossed to where trente et quarante was
being played—a game which could boast of a more aristocratic public, and
was played with cards instead of with a wheel. At this diversion the bank
made itself responsible for a hundred thousand thalers as the limit, but the
highest stake allowable was, as in roulette, four thousand florins. Although I
knew nothing of the game—and I scarcely knew the stakes, except those on
black and red—I joined the ring of players, while the rest of the crowd
massed itself around me. At this distance of time I cannot remember
whether I ever gave a thought to Polina; I seemed only to be conscious of a
vague pleasure in seizing and raking in the bank-notes which kept massing
themselves in a pile before me.
But, as ever, fortune seemed to be at my back. As though of set purpose,
there came to my aid a circumstance which not infrequently repeats itself in
gaming. The circumstance is that not infrequently luck attaches itself to,
say, the red, and does not leave it for a space of say, ten, or even fifteen,
rounds in succession. Three days ago I had heard that, during the previous
week there had been a run of twenty-two coups on the red—an occurrence
never before known at roulette—so that men spoke of it with astonishment.
Naturally enough, many deserted the red after a dozen rounds, and
practically no one could now be found to stake upon it. Yet upon the black
also—the antithesis of the red—no experienced gambler would stake
anything, for the reason that every practised player knows the meaning of

“capricious fortune.” That is to say, after the sixteenth (or so) success of the
red, one would think that the seventeenth coup would inevitably fall upon
the black; wherefore, novices would be apt to back the latter in the
seventeenth round, and even to double or treble their stakes upon it—only,
in the end, to lose.
Yet some whim or other led me, on remarking that the red had come up
consecutively for seven times, to attach myself to that colour. Probably this
was mostly due to self-conceit, for I wanted to astonish the bystanders with
the riskiness of my play. Also, I remember that—oh, strange sensation!—I
suddenly, and without any challenge from my own presumption, became
obsessed with a desire to take risks. If the spirit has passed through a great
many sensations, possibly it can no longer be sated with them, but grows
more excited, and demands more sensations, and stronger and stronger
ones, until at length it falls exhausted. Certainly, if the rules of the game had
permitted even of my staking fifty thousand florins at a time, I should have
staked them. All of a sudden I heard exclamations arising that the whole
thing was a marvel, since the red was turning up for the fourteenth time!
“Monsieur a gagné cent mille florins,” a voice exclaimed beside me.
I awoke to my senses. What? I had won a hundred thousand florins? If
so, what more did I need to win? I grasped the banknotes, stuffed them into
my pockets, raked in the gold without counting it, and started to leave the
Casino. As I passed through the salons people smiled to see my bulging
pockets and unsteady gait, for the weight which I was carrying must have
amounted to half a pood! Several hands I saw stretched out in my direction,
and as I passed I filled them with all the money that I could grasp in my
own. At length two Jews stopped me near the exit.
“You are a bold young fellow,” one said, “but mind you depart early
tomorrow—as early as you can—for if you do not you will lose everything
that you have won.”
But I did not heed them. The Avenue was so dark that it was barely
possible to distinguish one’s hand before one’s face, while the distance to
the hotel was half a verst or so; but I feared neither pickpockets nor
highwaymen. Indeed, never since my boyhood have I done that. Also, I
cannot remember what I thought about on the way. I only felt a sort of
fearful pleasure—the pleasure of success, of conquest, of power (how can I
best express it?). Likewise, before me there flitted the image of Polina; and

I kept remembering, and reminding myself, that it was to her I was going,
that it was in her presence I should soon be standing, that it was she to
whom I should soon be able to relate and show everything. Scarcely once
did I recall what she had lately said to me, or the reason why I had left her,
or all those varied sensations which I had been experiencing a bare hour and
a half ago. No, those sensations seemed to be things of the past, to be things
which had righted themselves and grown old, to be things concerning which
we needed to trouble ourselves no longer, since, for us, life was about to
begin anew. Yet I had just reached the end of the Avenue when there did
come upon me a fear of being robbed or murdered. With each step the fear
increased until, in my terror, I almost started to run. Suddenly, as I issued
from the Avenue, there burst upon me the lights of the hotel, sparkling with
a myriad lamps! Yes, thanks be to God, I had reached home!
Running up to my room, I flung open the door of it. Polina was still on
the sofa, with a lighted candle in front of her, and her hands clasped. As I
entered she stared at me in astonishment (for, at the moment, I must have
presented a strange spectacle). All I did, however, was to halt before her,
and fling upon the table my burden of wealth.

XV

I remember, too, how, without moving from her place, or changing her
attitude, she gazed into my face.
“I have won two hundred thousand francs!” cried I as I pulled out my last
sheaf of bank-notes. The pile of paper currency occupied the whole table. I
could not withdraw my eyes from it. Consequently, for a moment or two
Polina escaped my mind. Then I set myself to arrange the pile in order, and
to sort the notes, and to mass the gold in a separate heap. That done, I left
everything where it lay, and proceeded to pace the room with rapid strides
as I lost myself in thought. Then I darted to the table once more, and began
to recount the money; until all of a sudden, as though I had remembered
something, I rushed to the door, and closed and double-locked it. Finally I
came to a meditative halt before my little trunk.
“Shall I put the money there until tomorrow?” I asked, turning sharply
round to Polina as the recollection of her returned to me.
She was still in her old place—still making not a sound. Yet her eyes had
followed every one of my movements. Somehow in her face there was a
strange expression—an expression which I did not like. I think that I shall
not be wrong if I say that it indicated sheer hatred.
Impulsively I approached her.
“Polina,” I said, “here are twenty-five thousand florins—fifty thousand
francs, or more. Take them, and tomorrow throw them in De Griers’ face.”
She returned no answer.
“Or, if you should prefer,” I continued, “let me take them to him myself
tomorrow—yes, early tomorrow morning. Shall I?”
Then all at once she burst out laughing, and laughed for a long while.
With astonishment and a feeling of offence I gazed at her. Her laughter was
too like the derisive merriment which she had so often indulged in of late—
merriment which had broken forth always at the time of my most passionate

explanations. At length she ceased, and frowned at me from under her
eyebrows.
“I am not going to take your money,” she said contemptuously.
“Why not?” I cried. “Why not, Polina?”
“Because I am not in the habit of receiving money for nothing.”
“But I am offering it to you as a friend. In the same way I would offer
you my very life.”
Upon this she threw me a long, questioning glance, as though she were
seeking to probe me to the depths.
“You are giving too much for me,” she remarked with a smile. “The
beloved of De Griers is not worth fifty thousand francs.”
“Oh Polina, how can you speak so?” I exclaimed reproachfully. “Am I
De Griers?”
“You?” she cried with her eyes suddenly flashing. “Why, I hate you! Yes,
yes, I hate you! I love you no more than I do De Griers.”
Then she buried her face in her hands, and relapsed into hysterics. I
darted to her side. Somehow I had an intuition of something having
happened to her which had nothing to do with myself. She was like a person
temporarily insane.
“Buy me, would you, would you? Would you buy me for fifty thousand
francs as De Griers did?” she gasped between her convulsive sobs.
I clasped her in my arms, kissed her hands and feet, and fell upon my
knees before her.
Presently the hysterical fit passed away, and, laying her hands upon my
shoulders, she gazed for a while into my face, as though trying to read it—
something I said to her, but it was clear that she did not hear it. Her face
looked so dark and despondent that I began to fear for her reason. At length
she drew me towards herself—a trustful smile playing over her features;
and then, as suddenly, she pushed me away again as she eyed me dimly.
Finally she threw herself upon me in an embrace.
“You love me?” she said. “Do you?—you who were willing even to
quarrel with the Baron at my bidding?”
Then she laughed—laughed as though something dear, but laughable,
had recurred to her memory. Yes, she laughed and wept at the same time.

What was I to do? I was like a man in a fever. I remember that she began to
say something to me—though what I do not know, since she spoke with a
feverish lisp, as though she were trying to tell me something very quickly.
At intervals, too, she would break off into the smile which I was beginning
to dread. “No, no!” she kept repeating. “You are my dear one; you are the
man I trust.” Again she laid her hands upon my shoulders, and again she
gazed at me as she reiterated: “You love me, you love me? Will you always
love me?” I could not take my eyes off her. Never before had I seen her in
this mood of humility and affection. True, the mood was the outcome of
hysteria; but—! All of a sudden she noticed my ardent gaze, and smiled
slightly. The next moment, for no apparent reason, she began to talk of
Astley.
She continued talking and talking about him, but I could not make out all
she said—more particularly when she was endeavouring to tell me of
something or other which had happened recently. On the whole, she
appeared to be laughing at Astley, for she kept repeating that he was waiting
for her, and did I know whether, even at that moment, he was not standing
beneath the window? “Yes, yes, he is there,” she said. “Open the window,
and see if he is not.” She pushed me in that direction; yet, no sooner did I
make a movement to obey her behest than she burst into laughter, and I
remained beside her, and she embraced me.
“Shall we go away tomorrow?” presently she asked, as though some
disturbing thought had recurred to her recollection. “How would it be if we
were to try and overtake Grandmamma? I think we should do so at Berlin.
And what think you she would have to say to us when we caught her up,
and her eyes first lit upon us? What, too, about Mr. Astley? He would not
leap from the Shlangenberg for my sake! No! Of that I am very sure!”—and
she laughed. “Do you know where he is going next year? He says he
intends to go to the North Pole for scientific investigations, and has invited
me to go with him! Ha, ha, ha! He also says that we Russians know
nothing, can do nothing, without European help. But he is a good fellow all
the same. For instance, he does not blame the General in the matter, but
declares that Mlle. Blanche—that love—But no; I do not know, I do not
know.” She stopped suddenly, as though she had said her say, and was
feeling bewildered. “What poor creatures these people are. How sorry I am
for them, and for Grandmamma! But when are you going to kill De Griers?
Surely you do not intend actually to murder him? You fool! Do you suppose

that I should allow you to fight De Griers? Nor shall you kill the Baron.”
Here she burst out laughing. “How absurd you looked when you were
talking to the Burmergelms! I was watching you all the time—watching you
from where I was sitting. And how unwilling you were to go when I sent
you! Oh, how I laughed and laughed!”
Then she kissed and embraced me again; again she pressed her face to
mine with tender passion. Yet I neither saw nor heard her, for my head was
in a whirl....
It must have been about seven o’clock in the morning when I awoke.
Daylight had come, and Polina was sitting by my side—a strange
expression on her face, as though she had seen a vision and was unable to
collect her thoughts. She too had just awoken, and was now staring at the
money on the table. My head ached; it felt heavy. I attempted to take
Polina’s hand, but she pushed me from her, and leapt from the sofa. The
dawn was full of mist, for rain had fallen, yet she moved to the window,
opened it, and, leaning her elbows upon the window-sill, thrust out her head
and shoulders to take the air. In this position did she remain for several
minutes, without ever looking round at me, or listening to what I was
saying. Into my head there came the uneasy thought: What is to happen
now? How is it all to end? Suddenly Polina rose from the window,
approached the table, and, looking at me with an expression of infinite
aversion, said with lips which quivered with anger:
“Well? Are you going to hand me over my fifty thousand francs?”
“Polina, you say that again, again?” I exclaimed.
“You have changed your mind, then? Ha, ha, ha! You are sorry you ever
promised them?”
On the table where, the previous night, I had counted the money there
still was lying the packet of twenty five thousand florins. I handed it to her.
“The francs are mine, then, are they? They are mine?” she inquired
viciously as she balanced the money in her hands.
“Yes; they have always been yours,” I said.
“Then take your fifty thousand francs!” and she hurled them full in my
face. The packet burst as she did so, and the floor became strewed with
bank-notes. The instant that the deed was done she rushed from the room.

At that moment she cannot have been in her right mind; yet, what was the
cause of her temporary aberration I cannot say. For a month past she had
been unwell. Yet what had brought about this present condition of mind,
above all things, this outburst? Had it come of wounded pride? Had it come
of despair over her decision to come to me? Had it come of the fact that,
presuming too much on my good fortune, I had seemed to be intending to
desert her (even as De Griers had done) when once I had given her the fifty
thousand francs? But, on my honour, I had never cherished any such
intention. What was at fault, I think, was her own pride, which kept urging
her not to trust me, but, rather, to insult me—even though she had not
realised the fact. In her eyes I corresponded to De Griers, and therefore had
been condemned for a fault not wholly my own. Her mood of late had been
a sort of delirium, a sort of light-headedness—that I knew full well; yet,
never had I sufficiently taken it into consideration. Perhaps she would not
pardon me now? Ah, but this was the present. What about the future? Her
delirium and sickness were not likely to make her forget what she had done
in bringing me De Griers’ letter. No, she must have known what she was
doing when she brought it.
Somehow I contrived to stuff the pile of notes and gold under the bed, to
cover them over, and then to leave the room some ten minutes after Polina.
I felt sure that she had returned to her own room; wherefore, I intended
quietly to follow her, and to ask the nursemaid aid who opened the door
how her mistress was. Judge, therefore, of my surprise when, meeting the
domestic on the stairs, she informed me that Polina had not yet returned,
and that she (the domestic) was at that moment on her way to my room in
quest of her!
“Mlle. left me but ten minutes ago,” I said. “What can have become of
her?” The nursemaid looked at me reproachfully.
Already sundry rumours were flying about the hotel. Both in the office of
the commissionaire and in that of the landlord it was whispered that, at
seven o’clock that morning, the Fräulein had left the hotel, and set off,
despite the rain, in the direction of the Hôtel d’Angleterre. From words and
hints let fall I could see that the fact of Polina having spent the night in my
room was now public property. Also, sundry rumours were circulating
concerning the General’s family affairs. It was known that last night he had
gone out of his mind, and paraded the hotel in tears; also, that the old lady

who had arrived was his mother, and that she had come from Russia on
purpose to forbid her son’s marriage with Mlle. de Cominges, as well as to
cut him out of her will if he should disobey her; also that, because he had
disobeyed her, she had squandered all her money at roulette, in order to
have nothing more to leave to him. “Oh, these Russians!” exclaimed the
landlord, with an angry toss of the head, while the bystanders laughed and
the clerk betook himself to his accounts. Also, every one had learnt about
my winnings; Karl, the corridor lacquey, was the first to congratulate me.
But with these folk I had nothing to do. My business was to set off at full
speed to the Hôtel d’Angleterre.
As yet it was early for Mr. Astley to receive visitors; but, as soon as he
learnt that it was I who had arrived, he came out into the corridor to meet
me, and stood looking at me in silence with his steel-grey eyes as he waited
to hear what I had to say. I inquired after Polina.
“She is ill,” he replied, still looking at me with his direct, unwavering
glance.
“And she is in your rooms.”
“Yes, she is in my rooms.”
“Then you are minded to keep her there?”
“Yes, I am minded to keep her there.”
“But, Mr. Astley, that will raise a scandal. It ought not to be allowed.
Besides, she is very ill. Perhaps you had not remarked that?”
“Yes, I have. It was I who told you about it. Had she not been ill, she
would not have gone and spent the night with you.”
“Then you know all about it?”
“Yes; for last night she was to have accompanied me to the house of a
relative of mine. Unfortunately, being ill, she made a mistake, and went to
your rooms instead.”
“Indeed? Then I wish you joy, Mr. Astley. Apropos, you have reminded
me of something. Were you beneath my window last night? Every moment
Mlle. Polina kept telling me to open the window and see if you were there;
after which she always smiled.”
“Indeed? No, I was not there; but I was waiting in the corridor, and
walking about the hotel.”

“She ought to see a doctor, you know, Mr. Astley.”
“Yes, she ought. I have sent for one, and, if she dies, I shall hold you
responsible.”
This surprised me.
“Pardon me,” I replied, “but what do you mean?”
“Never mind. Tell me if it is true that, last night, you won two hundred
thousand thalers?”
“No; I won a hundred thousand florins.”
“Good heavens! Then I suppose you will be off to Paris this morning?”
“Why?”
“Because all Russians who have grown rich go to Paris,” explained
Astley, as though he had read the fact in a book.
“But what could I do in Paris in summer time?—I love her, Mr. Astley!
Surely you know that?”
“Indeed? I am sure that you do not. Moreover, if you were to stay here,
you would lose everything that you possess, and have nothing left with
which to pay your expenses in Paris. Well, good-bye now. I feel sure that
today will see you gone from here.”
“Good-bye. But I am not going to Paris. Likewise—pardon me—what is
to become of this family? I mean that the affair of the General and Mlle.
Polina will soon be all over the town.”
“I daresay; yet, I hardly suppose that that will break the General’s heart.
Moreover, Mlle. Polina has a perfect right to live where she chooses. In
short, we may say that, as a family, this family has ceased to exist.”
I departed, and found myself smiling at the Englishman’s strange
assurance that I should soon be leaving for Paris. “I suppose he means to
shoot me in a duel, should Polina die. Yes, that is what he intends to do.”
Now, although I was honestly sorry for Polina, it is a fact that, from the
moment when, the previous night, I had approached the gaming-table, and
begun to rake in the packets of bank-notes, my love for her had entered
upon a new plane. Yes, I can say that now; although, at the time, I was
barely conscious of it. Was I, then, at heart a gambler? Did I, after all, love
Polina not so very much? No, no! As God is my witness, I loved her! Even
when I was returning home from Mr. Astley’s my suffering was genuine,

and my self-reproach sincere. But presently I was to go through an
exceedingly strange and ugly experience.
I was proceeding to the General’s rooms when I heard a door near me
open, and a voice call me by name. It was Mlle.’s mother, the Widow de
Cominges who was inviting me, in her daughter’s name, to enter.
I did so; whereupon, I heard a laugh and a little cry proceed from the
bedroom (the pair occupied a suite of two apartments), where Mlle. Blanche
was just arising.
“Ah, c’est lui! Viens, donc, bête! Is it true that you have won a mountain
of gold and silver? J’aimerais mieux l’or.”
“Yes,” I replied with a smile.
“How much?”
“A hundred thousand florins.”
“Bibi, comme tu es bête! Come in here, for I can’t hear you where you
are now. Nous ferons bombance, n’est-ce pas?”
Entering her room, I found her lolling under a pink satin coverlet, and
revealing a pair of swarthy, wonderfully healthy shoulders—shoulders such
as one sees in dreams—shoulders covered over with a white cambric
nightgown which, trimmed with lace, stood out, in striking relief, against
the darkness of her skin.
“Mon fils, as-tu du cœur?” she cried when she saw me, and then giggled.
Her laugh had always been a very cheerful one, and at times it even
sounded sincere.
“Tout autre—” I began, paraphrasing Corneille.
“See here,” she prattled on. “Please search for my stockings, and help me
to dress. Aussi, si tu n’es pas trop bête je te prends à Paris. I am just off, let
me tell you.”
“This moment?”
“In half an hour.”
True enough, everything stood ready-packed—trunks, portmanteaux, and
all. Coffee had long been served.
“Eh bien, tu verras Paris. Dis donc, qu’est-ce que c’est qu’un ‘utchitel’?
Tu étais bien bête quand tu étais ‘utchitel.’ Where are my stockings? Please
help me to dress.”

And she lifted up a really ravishing foot—small, swarthy, and not
misshapen like the majority of feet which look dainty only in bottines. I
laughed, and started to draw on to the foot a silk stocking, while Mlle.
Blanche sat on the edge of the bed and chattered.
“Eh bien, que feras-tu si je te prends avec moi? First of all I must have
fifty thousand francs, and you shall give them to me at Frankfurt. Then we
will go on to Paris, where we will live together, et je te ferai voir des étoiles
en plein jour. Yes, you shall see such women as your eyes have never lit
upon.”
“Stop a moment. If I were to give you those fifty thousand francs, what
should I have left for myself?”
“Another hundred thousand francs, please to remember. Besides, I could
live with you in your rooms for a month, or even for two; or even for
longer. But it would not take us more than two months to get through fifty
thousand francs; for, look you, je suis bonne enfante, et tu verras des étoiles,
you may be sure.”
“What? You mean to say that we should spend the whole in two
months?”
“Certainly. Does that surprise you very much? Ah, vil esclave! Why, one
month of that life would be better than all your previous existence. One
month—et après, le déluge! Mais tu ne peux comprendre. Va! Away, away!
You are not worth it.—Ah, que fais-tu?”
For, while drawing on the other stocking, I had felt constrained to kiss
her. Immediately she shrunk back, kicked me in the face with her toes, and
turned me neck and crop out of the room.
“Eh bien, mon ‘utchitel’,” she called after me, “je t’attends, si tu veux. I
start in a quarter of an hour’s time.”
I returned to my own room with my head in a whirl. It was not my fault
that Polina had thrown a packet in my face, and preferred Mr. Astley to
myself. A few bank-notes were still fluttering about the floor, and I picked
them up. At that moment the door opened, and the landlord appeared—a
person who, until now, had never bestowed upon me so much as a glance.
He had come to know if I would prefer to move to a lower floor—to a suite
which had just been tenanted by Count V.
For a moment I reflected.

“No!” I shouted. “My account, please, for in ten minutes I shall be gone.”
“To Paris, to Paris!” I added to myself. “Every man of birth must make
her acquaintance.”
Within a quarter of an hour all three of us were seated in a family
compartment—Mlle. Blanche, the Widow de Cominges, and myself. Mlle.
kept laughing hysterically as she looked at me, and Madame re-echoed her;
but I did not feel so cheerful. My life had broken in two, and yesterday had
infected me with a habit of staking my all upon a card. Although it might be
that I had failed to win my stake, that I had lost my senses, that I desired
nothing better, I felt that the scene was to be changed only for a time.
“Within a month from now,” I kept thinking to myself, “I shall be back
again in Roulettenberg; and then I mean to have it out with you, Mr.
Astley!” Yes, as now I look back at things, I remember that I felt greatly
depressed, despite the absurd gigglings of the egregious Blanche.
“What is the matter with you? How dull you are!” she cried at length as
she interrupted her laughter to take me seriously to task.
“Come, come! We are going to spend your two hundred thousand francs
for you, et tu seras heureux comme un petit roi. I myself will tie your tie for
you, and introduce you to Hortense. And when we have spent your money
you shall return here, and break the bank again. What did those two Jews
tell you?—that the thing most needed is daring, and that you possess it?
Consequently, this is not the first time that you will be hurrying to Paris
with money in your pocket. Quant à moi, je veux cinquante mille francs de
rente, et alors——”
“But what about the General?” I interrupted.
“The General? You know well enough that at about this hour every day
he goes to buy me a bouquet. On this occasion, I took care to tell him that
he must hunt for the choicest of flowers; and when he returns home, the
poor fellow will find the bird flown. Possibly he may take wing in pursuit—
ha, ha, ha! And if so, I shall not be sorry, for he could be useful to me in
Paris, and Mr. Astley will pay his debts here.”
In this manner did I depart for the Gay City.

XVI

Of Paris what am I to say? The whole proceeding was a delirium, a
madness. I spent a little over three weeks there, and, during that time, saw
my hundred thousand francs come to an end. I speak only of the one
hundred thousand francs, for the other hundred thousand I gave to Mlle.
Blanche in pure cash. That is to say, I handed her fifty thousand francs at
Frankfurt, and, three days later (in Paris), advanced her another fifty
thousand on note of hand. Nevertheless, a week had not elapsed ere she
came to me for more money. “Et les cent mille francs qui nous restent,” she
added, “tu les mangeras avec moi, mon utchitel.” Yes, she always called me
her “utchitel.” A person more economical, grasping, and mean than Mlle.
Blanche one could not imagine. But this was only as regards her own
money. My hundred thousand francs (as she explained to me later) she
needed to set up her establishment in Paris, “so that once and for all I may
be on a decent footing, and proof against any stones which may be thrown
at me—at all events for a long time to come.” Nevertheless, I saw nothing
of those hundred thousand francs, for my own purse (which she inspected
daily) never managed to amass in it more than a hundred francs at a time;
and, generally the sum did not reach even that figure.
“What do you want with money?” she would say to me with air of
absolute simplicity; and I never disputed the point. Nevertheless, though
she fitted out her flat very badly with the money, the fact did not prevent
her from saying when, later, she was showing me over the rooms of her new
abode: “See what care and taste can do with the most wretched of means!”
However, her “wretchedness” had cost fifty thousand francs, while with the
remaining fifty thousand she purchased a carriage and horses.
Also, we gave a couple of balls—evening parties attended by Hortense
and Lisette and Cléopatre, who were women remarkable both for the
number of their liaisons and (though only in some cases) for their good
looks. At these reunions I had to play the part of host—to meet and

entertain fat mercantile parvenus who were impossible by reason of their
rudeness and braggadocio, colonels of various kinds, hungry authors, and
journalistic hacks—all of whom disported themselves in fashionable
tailcoats and pale yellow gloves, and displayed such an aggregate of conceit
and gasconade as would be unthinkable even in St. Petersburg—which is
saying a great deal! They used to try to make fun of me, but I would
console myself by drinking champagne and then lolling in a retiring-room.
Nevertheless, I found it deadly work. “C’est un utchitel,” Blanche would
say of me, “qui a gagné deux cent mille francs, and but for me, would have
had not a notion how to spend them. Presently he will have to return to his
tutoring. Does any one know of a vacant post? You know, one must do
something for him.”
I had the more frequent recourse to champagne in that I constantly felt
depressed and bored, owing to the fact that I was living in the most
bourgeois commercial milieu imaginable—a milieu wherein every sou was
counted and grudged. Indeed, two weeks had not elapsed before I perceived
that Blanche had no real affection for me, even though she dressed me in
elegant clothes, and herself tied my tie each day. In short, she utterly
despised me. But that caused me no concern. Blasé and inert, I spent my
evenings generally at the Château des Fleurs, where I would get fuddled
and then dance the cancan (which, in that establishment, was a very
indecent performance) with éclat. At length, the time came when Blanche
had drained my purse dry. She had conceived an idea that, during the term
of our residence together, it would be well if I were always to walk behind
her with a paper and pencil, in order to jot down exactly what she spent,
what she had saved, what she was paying out, and what she was laying by.
Well, of course I could not fail to be aware that this would entail a battle
over every ten francs; so, although for every possible objection that I might
make she had prepared a suitable answer, she soon saw that I made no
objections, and therefore, had to start disputes herself. That is to say, she
would burst out into tirades which were met only with silence as I lolled on
a sofa and stared fixedly at the ceiling. This greatly surprised her. At first
she imagined that it was due merely to the fact that I was a fool, “un
utchitel”; wherefore she would break off her harangue in the belief that,
being too stupid to understand, I was a hopeless case. Then she would leave
the room, but return ten minutes later to resume the contest. This continued
throughout her squandering of my money—a squandering altogether out of

proportion to our means. An example is the way in which she changed her
first pair of horses for a pair which cost sixteen thousand francs.
“Bibi,” she said on the latter occasion as she approached me, “surely you
are not angry?”
“No-o-o: I am merely tired,” was my reply as I pushed her from me. This
seemed to her so curious that straightway she seated herself by my side.
“You see,” she went on, “I decided to spend so much upon these horses
only because I can easily sell them again. They would go at any time for
twenty thousand francs.”
“Yes, yes. They are splendid horses, and you have got a splendid turn-
out. I am quite content. Let me hear no more of the matter.”
“Then you are not angry?”
“No. Why should I be? You are wise to provide yourself with what you
need, for it will all come in handy in the future. Yes, I quite see the
necessity of your establishing yourself on a good basis, for without it you
will never earn your million. My hundred thousand francs I look upon
merely as a beginning—as a mere drop in the bucket.”
Blanche, who had by no means expected such declarations from me, but,
rather, an uproar and protests, was rather taken aback.
“Well, well, what a man you are!” she exclaimed. “Mais tu as l’esprit
pour comprendre. Sais-tu, mon garçon, although you are a tutor, you ought
to have been born a prince. Are you not sorry that your money should be
going so quickly?”
“No. The quicker it goes the better.”
“Mais—sais-tu—mais dis donc, are you really rich? Mais sais-tu, you
have too much contempt for money. Qu’est-ce que tu feras après, dis
donc?”
“Après I shall go to Homburg, and win another hundred thousand
francs.”
“Oui, oui, c’est ça, c’est magnifique! Ah, I know you will win them, and
bring them to me when you have done so. Dis donc—you will end by
making me love you. Since you are what you are, I mean to love you all the
time, and never to be unfaithful to you. You see, I have not loved you before
parce que je croyais que tu n’es qu’un utchitel (quelque chose comme un

lacquais, n’est-ce pas?) Yet all the time I have been true to you, parce que je
suis bonne fille.”
“You lie!” I interrupted. “Did I not see you, the other day, with Albert—
with that black-jowled officer?”
“Oh, oh! Mais tu es—”
“Yes, you are lying right enough. But what makes you suppose that I
should be angry? Rubbish! Il faut que jeunesse se passe. Even if that officer
were here now, I should refrain from putting him out of the room if I
thought you really cared for him. Only, mind you, do not give him any of
my money. You hear?”
“You say, do you, that you would not be angry? Mais tu es un vrai
philosophe, sais-tu? Oui, un vrai philosophe! Eh bien, je t’aimerai, je
t’aimerai. Tu verras-tu seras content.”
True enough, from that time onward she seemed to attach herself only to
me, and in this manner we spent our last ten days together. The promised
“étoiles” I did not see, but in other respects she, to a certain extent, kept her
word. Moreover, she introduced me to Hortense, who was a remarkable
woman in her way, and known among us as Thérèse Philosophe.
But I need not enlarge further, for to do so would require a story to itself,
and entail a colouring which I am loth to impart to the present narrative.
The point is that with all my faculties I desired the episode to come to an
end as speedily as possible. Unfortunately, our hundred thousand francs
lasted us, as I have said, for very nearly a month—which greatly surprised
me. At all events, Blanche bought herself articles to the tune of eighty
thousand francs, and the rest sufficed just to meet our expenses of living.
Towards the close of the affair, Blanche grew almost frank with me (at
least, she scarcely lied to me at all)—declaring, amongst other things, that
none of the debts which she had been obliged to incur were going to fall
upon my head. “I have purposely refrained from making you responsible
for my bills or borrowings,” she said, “for the reason that I am sorry for
you. Any other woman in my place would have done so, and have let you
go to prison. See, then, how much I love you, and how good-hearted I am!
Think, too, what this accursed marriage with the General is going to cost
me!”
True enough, the marriage took place. It did so at the close of our month
together, and I am bound to suppose that it was upon the ceremony that the

last remnants of my money were spent. With it the episode—that is to say,
my sojourn with the Frenchwoman—came to an end, and I formally retired
from the scene.
It happened thus: A week after we had taken up our abode in Paris there
arrived thither the General. He came straight to see us, and thenceforward
lived with us practically as our guest, though he had a flat of his own as
well. Blanche met him with merry badinage and laughter, and even threw
her arms around him. In fact, she managed it so that he had to follow
everywhere in her train—whether when promenading on the Boulevards, or
when driving, or when going to the theatre, or when paying calls; and this
use which she made of him quite satisfied the General. Still of imposing
appearance and presence, as well as of fair height, he had a dyed moustache
and whiskers (he had formerly been in the cuirassiers), and a handsome,
though a somewhat wrinkled, face. Also, his manners were excellent, and
he could carry a frockcoat well—the more so since, in Paris, he took to
wearing his orders. To promenade the Boulevards with such a man was not
only a thing possible, but also, so to speak, a thing advisable, and with this
programme the good but foolish General had not a fault to find. The truth is
that he had never counted upon this programme when he came to Paris to
seek us out. On that occasion he had made his appearance nearly shaking
with terror, for he had supposed that Blanche would at once raise an outcry,
and have him put from the door; wherefore, he was the more enraptured at
the turn that things had taken, and spent the month in a state of senseless
ecstasy. Already I had learnt that, after our unexpected departure from
Roulettenberg, he had had a sort of a fit—that he had fallen into a swoon,
and spent a week in a species of garrulous delirium. Doctors had been
summoned to him, but he had broken away from them, and suddenly taken
a train to Paris. Of course Blanche’s reception of him had acted as the best
of all possible cures, but for long enough he carried the marks of his
affliction, despite his present condition of rapture and delight. To think
clearly, or even to engage in any serious conversation, had now become
impossible for him; he could only ejaculate after each word “Hm!” and then
nod his head in confirmation. Sometimes, also, he would laugh, but only in
a nervous, hysterical sort of a fashion; while at other times he would sit for
hours looking as black as night, with his heavy eyebrows knitted. Of much
that went on he remained wholly oblivious, for he grew extremely absent-
minded, and took to talking to himself. Only Blanche could awake him to

any semblance of life. His fits of depression and moodiness in corners
always meant either that he had not seen her for some while, or that she had
gone out without taking him with her, or that she had omitted to caress him
before departing. When in this condition, he would refuse to say what he
wanted—nor had he the least idea that he was thus sulking and moping.
Next, after remaining in this condition for an hour or two (this I remarked
on two occasions when Blanche had gone out for the day—probably to see
Albert), he would begin to look about him, and to grow uneasy, and to hurry
about with an air as though he had suddenly remembered something, and
must try and find it; after which, not perceiving the object of his search, nor
succeeding in recalling what that object had been, he would as suddenly
relapse into oblivion, and continue so until the reappearance of Blanche—
merry, wanton, half-dressed, and laughing her strident laugh as she
approached to pet him, and even to kiss him (though the latter reward he
seldom received). Once, he was so overjoyed at her doing so that he burst
into tears. Even I myself was surprised.
From the first moment of his arrival in Paris, Blanche set herself to plead
with me on his behalf; and at such times she even rose to heights of
eloquence—saying that it was for me she had abandoned him, though she
had almost become his betrothed and promised to become so; that it was for
her sake he had deserted his family; that, having been in his service, I ought
to remember the fact, and to feel ashamed. To all this I would say nothing,
however much she chattered on; until at length I would burst out laughing,
and the incident would come to an end (at first, as I have said, she had
thought me a fool, but since she had come to deem me a man of sense and
sensibility). In short, I had the happiness of calling her better nature into
play; for though, at first, I had not deemed her so, she was, in reality, a
kind-hearted woman after her own fashion. “You are good and clever,” she
said to me towards the finish, “and my one regret is that you are also so
wrong-headed. You will her be a rich man!”
“Un vrai Russe—un Kalmuk” she usually called me.
Several times she sent me to give the General an airing in the streets,
even as she might have done with a lacquey and her spaniel; but, I preferred
to take him to the theatre, to the Bal Mabille, and to restaurants. For this
purpose she usually allowed me some money, though the General had a
little of his own, and enjoyed taking out his purse before strangers. Once I

had to use actual force to prevent him from buying a phaeton at a price of
seven hundred francs, after a vehicle had caught his fancy in the Palais
Royal as seeming to be a desirable present for Blanche. What could she
have done with a seven-hundred-franc phaeton?—and the General
possessed in the world but a thousand francs! The origin even of those
francs I could never determine, but imagined them to have emanated from
Mr. Astley—the more so since the latter had paid the family’s hotel bill. As
for what view the General took of myself, I think that he never divined the
footing on which I stood with Blanche. True, he had heard, in a dim sort of
way, that I had won a good deal of money; but more probably he supposed
me to be acting as secretary—or even as a kind of servant—to his
inamorata. At all events, he continued to address me, in his old haughty
style, as my superior. At times he even took it upon himself to scold me.
One morning in particular, he started to sneer at me over our matutinal
coffee. Though not a man prone to take offence, he suddenly, and for some
reason of which to this day I am ignorant, fell out with me. Of course even
he himself did not know the reason. To put things shortly, he began a speech
which had neither beginning nor ending, and cried out, à bâtons rompus,
that I was a boy whom he would soon put to rights—and so forth, and so
forth. Yet no one could understand what he was saying, and at length
Blanche exploded in a burst of laughter. Finally something appeased him,
and he was taken out for his walk. More than once, however, I noticed that
his depression was growing upon him; that he seemed to be feeling the want
of somebody or something; that, despite Blanche’s presence, he was
missing some person in particular. Twice, on these occasions, did he plunge
into a conversation with me, though he could not make himself intelligible,
and only went on rambling about the service, his late wife, his home, and
his property. Every now and then, also, some particular word would please
him; whereupon he would repeat it a hundred times in the day—even
though the word happened to express neither his thoughts nor his feelings.
Again, I would try to get him to talk about his children, but always he cut
me short in his old snappish way, and passed to another subject. “Yes, yes—
my children,” was all that I could extract from him. “Yes, you are right in
what you have said about them.” Only once did he disclose his real feelings.
That was when we were taking him to the theatre, and suddenly he
exclaimed: “My unfortunate children! Yes, sir, they are unfortunate
children.” Once, too, when I chanced to mention Polina, he grew quite

bitter against her. “She is an ungrateful woman!” he exclaimed. “She is a
bad and ungrateful woman! She has broken up a family. If there were laws
here, I would have her impaled. Yes, I would.” As for De Griers, the
General would not have his name mentioned. “He has ruined me,” he would
say. “He has robbed me, and cut my throat. For two years he was a perfect
nightmare to me. For months at a time he never left me in my dreams. Do
not speak of him again.”
It was now clear to me that Blanche and he were on the point of coming
to terms; yet, true to my usual custom, I said nothing. At length, Blanche
took the initiative in explaining matters. She did so a week before we
parted.
“Il a de la chance,” she prattled, “for the Grandmother is now really ill,
and therefore, bound to die. Mr. Astley has just sent a telegram to say so,
and you will agree with me that the General is likely to be her heir. Even if
he should not be so, he will not come amiss, since, in the first place, he has
his pension, and, in the second place, he will be content to live in a back
room; whereas I shall be Madame General, and get into a good circle of
society” (she was always thinking of this) “and become a Russian
châtelaine. Yes, I shall have a mansion of my own, and peasants, and a
million of money at my back.”
“But, suppose he should prove jealous? He might demand all sorts of
things, you know. Do you follow me?”
“Oh, dear no! How ridiculous that would be of him! Besides, I have
taken measures to prevent it. You need not be alarmed. That is to say, I have
induced him to sign notes of hand in Albert’s name. Consequently, at any
time I could get him punished. Isn’t he ridiculous?”
“Very well, then. Marry him.”
And, in truth, she did so—though the marriage was a family one only,
and involved no pomp or ceremony. In fact, she invited to the nuptials none
but Albert and a few other friends. Hortense, Cléopatre, and the rest she
kept firmly at a distance. As for the bridegroom, he took a great interest in
his new position. Blanche herself tied his tie, and Blanche herself pomaded
him—with the result that, in his frockcoat and white waistcoat, he looked
quite comme il faut.
“Il est, pourtant, très comme il faut,” Blanche remarked when she issued
from his room, as though the idea that he was “très comme il faut” had

impressed even her. For myself, I had so little knowledge of the minor
details of the affair, and took part in it so much as a supine spectator, that I
have forgotten most of what passed on this occasion. I only remember that
Blanche and the Widow figured at it, not as “de Cominges,” but as “du
Placet.” Why they had hitherto been “de Cominges” I do not know—I only
know that this entirely satisfied the General, that he liked the name “du
Placet” even better than he had liked the name “de Cominges.” On the
morning of the wedding, he paced the salon in his gala attire and kept
repeating to himself with an air of great gravity and importance: “Mlle.
Blanche du Placet! Mlle. Blanche du Placet, du Placet!” He beamed with
satisfaction as he did so. Both in the church and at the wedding breakfast he
remained not only pleased and contented, but even proud. She too
underwent a change, for now she assumed an air of added dignity.
“I must behave altogether differently,” she confided to me with a serious
air. “Yet, mark you, there is a tiresome circumstance of which I had never
before thought—which is, how best to pronounce my new family name.
Zagorianski, Zagozianski, Madame la Générale de Sago, Madame la
Générale de Fourteen Consonants—oh these infernal Russian names! The
last of them would be the best to use, don’t you think?”
At length the time had come for us to part, and Blanche, the egregious
Blanche, shed real tears as she took her leave of me. “Tu étais bon enfant”
she said with a sob. “Je te croyais bête et tu en avais l’air, but it suited you.”
Then, having given me a final handshake, she exclaimed, “Attends!”;
whereafter, running into her boudoir, she brought me thence two thousand-
franc notes. I could scarcely believe my eyes! “They may come in handy
for you,” she explained, “for, though you are a very learned tutor, you are a
very stupid man. More than two thousand francs, however, I am not going
to give you, for the reason that, if I did so, you would gamble them all
away. Now good-bye. Nous serons toujours bons amis, and if you win
again, do not fail to come to me, et tu seras heureux.”
I myself had still five hundred francs left, as well as a watch worth a
thousand francs, a few diamond studs, and so on. Consequently, I could
subsist for quite a length of time without particularly bestirring myself.
Purposely I have taken up my abode where I am now partly to pull myself
together, and partly to wait for Mr. Astley, who, I have learnt, will soon be
here for a day or so on business. Yes, I know that, and then—and then I

shall go to Homburg. But to Roulettenberg I shall not go until next year, for
they say it is bad to try one’s luck twice in succession at a table. Moreover,
Homburg is where the best play is carried on.

XVII

It is a year and eight months since I last looked at these notes of mine. I
do so now only because, being overwhelmed with depression, I wish to
distract my mind by reading them through at random. I left them off at the
point where I was just going to Homburg. My God, with what a light heart
(comparatively speaking) did I write the concluding lines!—though it may
be not so much with a light heart, as with a measure of self-confidence and
unquenchable hope. At that time had I any doubts of myself? Yet behold me
now. Scarcely a year and a half have passed, yet I am in a worse position
than the meanest beggar. But what is a beggar? A fig for beggary! I have
ruined myself—that is all. Nor is there anything with which I can compare
myself; there is no moral which it would be of any use for you to read to
me. At the present moment nothing could well be more incongruous than a
moral. Oh, you self-satisfied persons who, in your unctuous pride, are
forever ready to mouth your maxims—if only you knew how fully I myself
comprehend the sordidness of my present state, you would not trouble to
wag your tongues at me! What could you say to me that I do not already
know? Well, wherein lies my difficulty? It lies in the fact that by a single
turn of a roulette wheel everything for me, has become changed. Yet, had
things befallen otherwise, these moralists would have been among the first
(yes, I feel persuaded of it) to approach me with friendly jests and
congratulations. Yes, they would never have turned from me as they are
doing now! A fig for all of them! What am I? I am zero—nothing. What
shall I be tomorrow? I may be risen from the dead, and have begun life
anew. For still, I may discover the man in myself, if only my manhood has
not become utterly shattered.
I went, I say, to Homburg, but afterwards went also to Roulettenberg, as
well as to Spa and Baden; in which latter place, for a time, I acted as valet
to a certain rascal of a Privy Councillor, by name Heintze, who until lately
was also my master here. Yes, for five months I lived my life with lacqueys!

That was just after I had come out of Roulettenberg prison, where I had lain
for a small debt which I owed. Out of that prison I was bailed by—by
whom? By Mr. Astley? By Polina? I do not know. At all events, the debt
was paid to the tune of two hundred thalers, and I sallied forth a free man.
But what was I to do with myself? In my dilemma I had recourse to this
Heintze, who was a young scapegrace, and the sort of man who could speak
and write three languages. At first I acted as his secretary, at a salary of
thirty gülden a month, but afterwards I became his lacquey, for the reason
that he could not afford to keep a secretary—only an unpaid servant. I had
nothing else to turn to, so I remained with him, and allowed myself to
become his flunkey. But by stinting myself in meat and drink I saved,
during my five months of service, some seventy gülden; and one evening,
when we were at Baden, I told him that I wished to resign my post, and then
hastened to betake myself to roulette.
Oh, how my heart beat as I did so! No, it was not the money that I valued
—what I wanted was to make all this mob of Heintzes, hotel proprietors,
and fine ladies of Baden talk about me, recount my story, wonder at me,
extol my doings, and worship my winnings. True, these were childish
fancies and aspirations, but who knows but that I might meet Polina, and be
able to tell her everything, and see her look of surprise at the fact that I had
overcome so many adverse strokes of fortune. No, I had no desire for
money for its own sake, for I was perfectly well aware that I should only
squander it upon some new Blanche, and spend another three weeks in Paris
after buying a pair of horses which had cost sixteen thousand francs. No, I
never believed myself to be a hoarder; in fact, I knew only too well that I
was a spendthrift. And already, with a sort of fear, a sort of sinking in my
heart, I could hear the cries of the croupiers—“Trente et un, rouge, impair et
passe,” “Quarte, noir, pair et manque.” How greedily I gazed upon the
gaming-table, with its scattered louis d’or, ten-gülden pieces, and thalers;
upon the streams of gold as they issued from the croupier’s hands, and piled
themselves up into heaps of gold scintillating as fire; upon the ell—long
rolls of silver lying around the croupier. Even at a distance of two rooms I
could hear the chink of that money—so much so that I nearly fell into
convulsions.
Ah, the evening when I took those seventy gülden to the gaming table
was a memorable one for me. I began by staking ten gülden upon passe. For
passe I had always had a sort of predilection, yet I lost my stake upon it.

This left me with sixty gülden in silver. After a moment’s thought I selected
zero—beginning by staking five gülden at a time. Twice I lost, but the third
round suddenly brought up the desired coup. I could almost have died with
joy as I received my one hundred and seventy-five gülden. Indeed, I have
been less pleased when, in former times, I have won a hundred thousand
gülden. Losing no time, I staked another hundred gülden upon the red, and
won; two hundred upon the red, and won; four hundred upon the black, and
won; eight hundred upon manque, and won. Thus, with the addition of the
remainder of my original capital, I found myself possessed, within five
minutes, of seventeen hundred gülden. Ah, at such moments one forgets
both oneself and one’s former failures! This I had gained by risking my
very life. I had dared so to risk, and behold, again I was a member of
mankind!
I went and hired a room, I shut myself up in it, and sat counting my
money until three o’clock in the morning. To think that when I awoke on
the morrow, I was no lacquey! I decided to leave at once for Homburg.
There I should neither have to serve as a footman nor to lie in prison. Half
an hour before starting, I went and ventured a couple of stakes—no more;
with the result that, in all, I lost fifteen hundred florins. Nevertheless, I
proceeded to Homburg, and have now been there for a month.
Of course, I am living in constant trepidation, playing for the smallest of
stakes, and always looking out for something—calculating, standing whole
days by the gaming-tables to watch the play—even seeing that play in my
dreams—yet seeming, the while, to be in some way stiffening, to be
growing caked, as it were, in mire. But I must conclude my notes, which I
finish under the impression of a recent encounter with Mr. Astley. I had not
seen him since we parted at Roulettenberg, and now we met quite by
accident. At the time I was walking in the public gardens, and meditating
upon the fact that not only had I still some fifty gülden in my possession,
but also I had fully paid up my hotel bill three days ago. Consequently, I
was in a position to try my luck again at roulette; and if I won anything I
should be able to continue my play, whereas, if I lost what I now possessed,
I should once more have to accept a lacquey’s place, provided that, in the
alternative, I failed to discover a Russian family which stood in need of a
tutor. Plunged in these reflections, I started on my daily walk through the
Park and forest towards a neighbouring principality. Sometimes, on such
occasions, I spent four hours on the way, and would return to Homburg

tired and hungry; but, on this particular occasion, I had scarcely left the
gardens for the Park when I caught sight of Astley seated on a bench. As
soon as he perceived me, he called me by name, and I went and sat down
beside him; but, on noticing that he seemed a little stiff in his manner, I
hastened to moderate the expression of joy which the sight of him had
called forth.
“You here?” he said. “Well, I had an idea that I should meet you. Do not
trouble to tell me anything, for I know all—yes, all. In fact, your whole life
during the past twenty months lies within my knowledge.”
“How closely you watch the doings of your old friends!” I replied. “That
does you infinite credit. But stop a moment. You have reminded me of
something. Was it you who bailed me out of Roulettenberg prison when I
was lying there for a debt of two hundred gülden? someone did so.”
“Oh dear no!—though I knew all the time that you were lying there.”
“Perhaps you could tell me who did bail me out?”
“No; I am afraid I could not.”
“What a strange thing! For I know no Russians at all here, so it cannot
have been a Russian who befriended me. In Russia we Orthodox folk do go
bail for one another, but in this case I thought it must have been done by
some English stranger who was not conversant with the ways of the
country.”
Mr. Astley seemed to listen to me with a sort of surprise. Evidently he
had expected to see me looking more crushed and broken than I was.
“Well,” he said—not very pleasantly, “I am none the less glad to find that
you retain your old independence of spirit, as well as your buoyancy.”
“Which means that you are vexed at not having found me more abased
and humiliated than I am?” I retorted with a smile.
Astley was not quick to understand this, but presently did so and laughed.
“Your remarks please me as they always did,” he continued. “In those
words I see the clever, triumphant, and, above all things, cynical friend of
former days. Only Russians have the faculty of combining within
themselves so many opposite qualities. Yes, most men love to see their best
friend in abasement; for generally it is on such abasement that friendship is
founded. All thinking persons know that ancient truth. Yet, on the present

occasion, I assure you, I am sincerely glad to see that you are not cast
down. Tell me, are you never going to give up gambling?”
“Damn the gambling! Yes, I should certainly have given it up, were it not
that—”
“That you are losing? I thought so. You need not tell me any more. I
know how things stand, for you have said that last in despair, and therefore,
truthfully. Have you no other employment than gambling?”
“No; none whatever.”
Astley gave me a searching glance. At that time it was ages since I had
last looked at a paper or turned the pages of a book.
“You are growing blasé,” he said. “You have not only renounced life,
with its interests and social ties, but the duties of a citizen and a man; you
have not only renounced the friends whom I know you to have had, and
every aim in life but that of winning money; but you have also renounced
your memory. Though I can remember you in the strong, ardent period of
your life, I feel persuaded that you have now forgotten every better feeling
of that period—that your present dreams and aspirations of subsistence do
not rise above pair, impair rouge, noir, the twelve middle numbers, and so
forth.”
“Enough, Mr. Astley!” I cried with some irritation—almost in anger.
“Kindly do not recall to me any more recollections, for I can remember
things for myself. Only for a time have I put them out of my head. Only
until I shall have rehabilitated myself, am I keeping my memory dulled.
When that hour shall come, you will see me arise from the dead.”
“Then you will have to be here another ten years,” he replied. “Should I
then be alive, I will remind you—here, on this very bench—of what I have
just said. In fact, I will bet you a wager that I shall do so.”
“Say no more,” I interrupted impatiently. “And to show you that I have
not wholly forgotten the past, may I enquire where Mlle. Polina is? If it was
not you who bailed me out of prison, it must have been she. Yet never have
I heard a word concerning her.”
“No, I do not think it was she. At the present moment she is in
Switzerland, and you will do me a favour by ceasing to ask me these
questions about her.” Astley said this with a firm, and even an angry, air.

“Which means that she has dealt you a serious wound?” I burst out with
an involuntary sneer.
“Mlle. Polina,” he continued, “Is the best of all possible living beings;
but, I repeat, that I shall thank you to cease questioning me about her. You
never really knew her, and her name on your lips is an offence to my moral
feeling.”
“Indeed? On what subject, then, have I a better right to speak to you than
on this? With it are bound up all your recollections and mine. However, do
not be alarmed: I have no wish to probe too far into your private, your
secret affairs. My interest in Mlle. Polina does not extend beyond her
outward circumstances and surroundings. About them you could tell me in
two words.”
“Well, on condition that the matter shall end there, I will tell you that for
a long time Mlle. Polina was ill, and still is so. My mother and sister
entertained her for a while at their home in the north of England, and
thereafter Mlle. Polina’s grandmother (you remember the mad old woman?)
died, and left Mlle. Polina a personal legacy of seven thousand pounds
sterling. That was about six months ago, and now Mlle. is travelling with
my sister’s family—my sister having since married. Mlle.’s little brother
and sister also benefited by the Grandmother’s will, and are now being
educated in London. As for the General, he died in Paris last month, of a
stroke. Mlle. Blanche did well by him, for she succeeded in having
transferred to herself all that he received from the Grandmother. That, I
think, concludes all that I have to tell.”
“And De Griers? Is he too travelling in Switzerland?”
“No; nor do I know where he is. Also I warn you once more that you had
better avoid such hints and ignoble suppositions; otherwise you will
assuredly have to reckon with me.”
“What? In spite of our old friendship?”
“Yes, in spite of our old friendship.”
“Then I beg your pardon a thousand times, Mr. Astley. I meant nothing
offensive to Mlle. Polina, for I have nothing of which to accuse her.
Moreover, the question of there being anything between this Frenchman and
this Russian lady is not one which you and I need discuss, nor even attempt
to understand.”

“If,” replied Astley, “you do not care to hear their names coupled
together, may I ask you what you mean by the expressions ‘this
Frenchman,’ ‘this Russian lady,’ and ‘there being anything between them’?
Why do you call them so particularly a ‘Frenchman’ and a ‘Russian lady’?”
“Ah, I see you are interested, Mr. Astley. But it is a long, long story, and
calls for a lengthy preface. At the same time, the question is an important
one, however ridiculous it may seem at the first glance. A Frenchman, Mr.
Astley, is merely a fine figure of a man. With this you, as a Britisher, may
not agree. With it I also, as a Russian, may not agree—out of envy. Yet
possibly our good ladies are of another opinion. For instance, one may look
upon Racine as a broken-down, hobbledehoy, perfumed individual—one
may even be unable to read him; and I too may think him the same, as well
as, in some respects, a subject for ridicule. Yet about him, Mr. Astley, there
is a certain charm, and, above all things, he is a great poet—though one
might like to deny it. Yes, the Frenchman, the Parisian, as a national figure,
was in process of developing into a figure of elegance before we Russians
had even ceased to be bears. The Revolution bequeathed to the French
nobility its heritage, and now every whipper-snapper of a Parisian may
possess manners, methods of expression, and even thoughts that are above
reproach in form, while all the time he himself may share in that form
neither in initiative nor in intellect nor in soul—his manners, and the rest,
having come to him through inheritance. Yes, taken by himself, the
Frenchman is frequently a fool of fools and a villain of villains. Per contra,
there is no one in the world more worthy of confidence and respect than this
young Russian lady. De Griers might so mask his face and play a part as
easily to overcome her heart, for he has an imposing figure, Mr. Astley, and
this young lady might easily take that figure for his real self—for the
natural form of his heart and soul—instead of the mere cloak with which
heredity has dowered him. And even though it may offend you, I feel bound
to say that the majority also of English people are uncouth and unrefined,
whereas we Russian folk can recognise beauty wherever we see it, and are
always eager to cultivate the same. But to distinguish beauty of soul and
personal originality there is needed far more independence and freedom
than is possessed by our women, especially by our younger ladies. At all
events, they need more experience. For instance, this Mlle. Polina—pardon
me, but the name has passed my lips, and I cannot well recall it—is taking a
very long time to make up her mind to prefer you to Monsieur de Griers.

She may respect you, she may become your friend, she may open out her
heart to you; yet over that heart there will be reigning that loathsome
villain, that mean and petty usurer, De Griers. This will be due to obstinacy
and self-love—to the fact that De Griers once appeared to her in the
transfigured guise of a marquis, of a disenchanted and ruined liberal who
was doing his best to help her family and the frivolous old General; and,
although these transactions of his have since been exposed, you will find
that the exposure has made no impression upon her mind. Only give her the
De Griers of former days, and she will ask of you no more. The more she
may detest the present De Griers, the more will she lament the De Griers of
the past—even though the latter never existed but in her own imagination.
You are a sugar refiner, Mr. Astley, are you not?”
“Yes, I belong to the well-known firm of Lovell and Co.”
“Then see here. On the one hand, you are a sugar refiner, while, on the
other hand, you are an Apollo Belvedere. But the two characters do not mix
with one another. I, again, am not even a sugar refiner; I am a mere roulette
gambler who has also served as a lacquey. Of this fact Mlle. Polina is
probably well aware, since she appears to have an excellent force of police
at her disposal.”
“You are saying this because you are feeling bitter,” said Astley with cold
indifference. “Yet there is not the least originality in your words.”
“I agree. But therein lies the horror of it all—that, how trepidation,
playing ever mean and farcical my accusations may be, they are none the
less true. But I am only wasting words.”
“Yes, you are, for you are only talking nonsense!” exclaimed my
companion—his voice now trembling and his eyes flashing fire. “Are you
aware,” he continued, “that wretched, ignoble, petty, unfortunate man
though you are, it was at her request I came to Homburg, in order to see
you, and to have a long, serious talk with you, and to report to her your
feelings and thoughts and hopes—yes, and your recollections of her, too?”
“Indeed? Is that really so?” I cried—the tears beginning to well from my
eyes. Never before had this happened.
“Yes, poor unfortunate,” continued Astley. “She did love you; and I may
tell you this now for the reason that now you are utterly lost. Even if I were
also to tell you that she still loves you, you would none the less have to
remain where you are. Yes, you have ruined yourself beyond redemption.

Once upon a time you had a certain amount of talent, and you were of a
lively disposition, and your good looks were not to be despised. You might
even have been useful to your country, which needs men like you. Yet you
remained here, and your life is now over. I am not blaming you for this—in
my view all Russians resemble you, or are inclined to do so. If it is not
roulette, then it is something else. The exceptions are very rare. Nor are you
the first to learn what a taskmaster is yours. For roulette is not exclusively a
Russian game. Hitherto, you have honourably preferred to serve as a
lacquey rather than to act as a thief; but what the future may have in store
for you I tremble to think. Now good-bye. You are in want of money, I
suppose? Then take these ten louis d’or. More I shall not give you, for you
would only gamble it away. Take care of these coins, and farewell. Once
more, take care of them.”
“No, Mr. Astley. After all that has been said I—”
“Take care of them!” repeated my friend. “I am certain you are still a
gentleman, and therefore I give you the money as one gentleman may give
money to another. Also, if I could be certain that you would leave both
Homburg and the gaming-tables, and return to your own country, I would
give you a thousand pounds down to start life afresh; but, I give you ten
louis d’or instead of a thousand pounds for the reason that at the present
time a thousand pounds and ten louis d’or will be all the same to you—you
will lose the one as readily as you will the other. Take the money, therefore,
and good-bye.”
“Yes, I will take it if at the same time you will embrace me.”
“With pleasure.”
So we parted—on terms of sincere affection.

But he was wrong. If I was hard and undiscerning as regards Polina and
De Griers, he was hard and undiscerning as regards Russian people
generally. Of myself I say nothing. Yet—yet words are only words. I need
to act. Above all things I need to think of Switzerland. Tomorrow,
tomorrow—Ah, but if only I could set things right tomorrow, and be born
again, and rise again from the dead! But no—I cannot. Yet I must show her

what I can do. Even if she should do no more than learn that I can still play
the man, it would be worth it. Today it is too late, but tomorrow. Yet I have
a presentiment that things can never be otherwise. I have got fifteen louis
d’or in my possession, although I began with fifteen gülden. If I were to
play carefully at the start—But no, no! Surely I am not such a fool as that?
Yet why should I not rise from the dead? I should require at first but to go
cautiously and patiently and the rest would follow. I should require but to
put a check upon my nature for one hour, and my fortunes would be
changed entirely. Yes, my nature is my weak point. I have only to remember
what happened to me some months ago at Roulettenberg, before my final
ruin. What a notable instance that was of my capacity for resolution! On the
occasion in question I had lost everything—everything; yet, just as I was
leaving the Casino, I heard another gülden give a rattle in my pocket!
“Perhaps I shall need it for a meal,” I thought to myself; but a hundred
paces further on, I changed my mind, and returned. That gülden I staked
upon manque—and there is something in the feeling that, though one is
alone, and in a foreign land, and far from one’s own home and friends, and
ignorant of whence one’s next meal is to come, one is nevertheless staking
one’s very last coin! Well, I won the stake, and in twenty minutes had left
the Casino with a hundred and seventy gülden in my pocket! That is a fact,
and it shows what a last remaining gülden can do.... But what if my heart
had failed me, or I had shrunk from making up my mind? ...
No; tomorrow all shall be ended!

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