The Gambler

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

suddenly brought up the desired coup. I could almost have died

  with joy as I received my one hundred and seventy-five gulden.

  Indeed, I have been less pleased when, in former times, I have

  won a hundred thousand gulden. Losing no time, I staked another

  hundred gulden 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 gulden. 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 olden 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 gulden? 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 blase," 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 mome
nt 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

  whippersnapper 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, however

  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 yo
u 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 gulden. 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 gulden 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 gulden I staked upon manque--and there