‘Fine,’ I answered, ‘tell mademoiselle that she may rest easy. Allow me, however, to ask you,’ I added sharply, ‘why is it that you withheld the note for so long? Instead of nattering about trifles, it seems you should have begun with that … if you came expressly on that errand.’
‘Oh, I wanted … In general, this is all so strange that you will forgive my natural impatience. I wanted to learn from you myself as quickly as possible what your intentions are. However, I do not know what is in the note and thought that there would always be opportunity to give it to you.’
‘I understand; you were quite simply ordered to give it to me only as a last resort, but not to do so if everything was settled by talking it out. Isn’t that so? Tell me plainly, Monsieur des Grieux!’
‘Peut-être,’8 he said, assuming an air of some particular reserve and regarding me with some sort of particular look.
I took my hat; he nodded and left. I thought I saw a sarcastic smile on his lips. And how could it be otherwise?
‘You and I still have a score to settle, Frenchy; we’ll see how you measure up!’ I muttered as I went down the stairs. I still couldn’t take anything in; it was as if I had been hit over the head. The fresh air revived me a bit.
A couple of minutes later, when I was just barely beginning to take things in, two thoughts presented themselves to me clearly: first: that such trifles as some schoolboyish pranks and improbable threats uttered by a mere boy in passing yesterday could raise such a general alarm! And the second thought: what is the nature of this Frenchman’s influence on Polina? Just a word from him – and she does everything he asks, writes a note and even begs me. Of course, their relationship had always been a riddle to me from the very beginning, from the time that I first knew them; however, during these past few days I have observed in her a definite loathing and even contempt for him, while he didn’t even look at her, was even simply rude to her. I have observed this. Polina herself spoke to me of her loathing; she’s come out with some extremely significant admissions … That means he simply has her in his power, he has her in fetters of some sort …
CHAPTER 8
On the promenade, as they call it here, that is, the chestnut avenue, I met my Englishman.
‘Oh, oh!’ he began, when he caught sight of me, ‘I was on my way to see you and you’re coming to see me. So, have you already parted company from your people?’
‘Tell me, first of all, how is it that you know all about it?’ I asked in astonishment. ‘Does everybody really know all about it?’
‘Oh, no, not everybody; and it’s not worth their knowing. Nobody’s talking about it.’
‘Then how is it that you know about it?’
‘I know, that is, I chanced to learn. Now where are you going from here? I like you and that’s why I came to see you.’
‘You’re a good fellow, Mr Astley,’ I said (however, I was terribly surprised: how did he find out?), ‘and since I haven’t had my coffee yet and you probably didn’t have a proper cup, let’s go to the cafe in the casino, and we can sit there, have a smoke, and I’ll tell you everything, and … you’ll tell me too.’
The cafe was a hundred paces away. They brought us our coffee, we sat down, I lit a cigarette, Mr Astley didn’t smoke but having fixed his gaze on me, he prepared to listen.
‘I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying here,’ I began.
‘And I was certain that you would stay,’ Mr Astley replied approvingly.
On my way to see Mr Astley I did not at all intend and particularly did not want to tell him anything about my love for Polina. All this time, I had hardly said a single word to him about it. Moreover, he was very shy. I had observed from the first that Polina made an extraordinary impression on him, but that he never mentioned her name. But strangely enough, suddenly, now, no sooner had he sat down and fixed upon me his intent, lustreless gaze than I felt for no reason at all the desire to tell him everything, that is, all about my love in all its particulars. I talked for a full half-hour, and I found it extraordinarily pleasant to be talking about it for the first time! Noticing, however, that he would become embarrassed at certain, particularly passionate places, I purposely intensified the passion of my story. I regret one thing: perhaps I said a bit more than I should have about the Frenchman …
Mr Astley listened, seated across from me, motionless, not uttering a word or a sound and looking me in the eyes; but when I started talking about the Frenchman, he suddenly cut me short and asked severely: Did I have the right to bring up this extraneous circumstance? Mr Astley always asked questions very strangely.
‘You’re right, I’m afraid I don’t,’ I answered.
‘You can say nothing definite about this marquis and Miss Polina apart from mere conjectures?’
I again was surprised by such a categorical question from such a shy person as Mr Astley.
‘No, nothing definite,’ I answered, ‘nothing, of course.’
‘If that’s the case, then you have done wrong not only by speaking about it with me, but even by thinking of it yourself.’
‘All right, all right! I admit it, but that’s not the point now,’ I interrupted, keeping my surprise to myself. Then I proceeded to tell him all about what happened yesterday, with all the details: Polina’s bit of mischief, my adventure with the baron, my dismissal, the general’s unusual cowardice; and, finally, I gave a detailed account of today’s visit by des Grieux, in all its particulars; in conclusion I showed him the note.
‘What do you deduce from this?’ I asked. ‘I came precisely to learn your thoughts. As far as I’m concerned, I think I could kill that little Frenchy and perhaps I will.’
‘And I as well,’ Mr Astley said. ‘As far as Miss Polina is concerned, then … you know, we enter into relations even with people whom we loathe if necessity so dictates. There may be relations here of which you are ignorant, which depend on extenuating circumstances. I think that you can set your mind at rest, to a certain extent, of course. As far as her conduct yesterday is concerned, of course, it’s strange – not because she wanted to be rid of you and sent you to brave the baron’s cudgel (which he didn’t use, I don’t understand why, since he was holding it), but because such an escapade for such a … for such an exceptional miss1 is unseemly. It goes without saying that she couldn’t foresee that you would carry out her taunting wish literally …’
‘Do you know what?’ I cried suddenly, as I peered intently at Mr Astley. ‘It’s just occurred to me that you have already heard about everything, and I know from whom? – from Miss Polina herself!’
Mr Astley looked at me with surprise.
‘Your eyes are sparkling and I read suspicion in them,’ he said, having at once regained his composure. ‘But you have no right whatsoever to divulge your suspicions. I cannot recognize that right and absolutely refuse to answer your question.’
‘Well, enough! There’s no need,’ I cried out, strangely agitated and not understanding where that idea had come from! And when, where and how could Mr Astley have been chosen by Polina to be her confidant? Of late, however, I had somewhat lost sight of Mr Astley, while Polina had always been something of a mystery for me, so much so that now, for example, having launched into the whole story of my love to Mr Astley, I was suddenly struck, as I was telling it, by how I could say almost nothing precise and positive about my relationship with her. On the contrary, everything was fantastic, strange, unfounded, and unlike anything else.
‘Well, all right, all right; I’ve lost the thread and there’s a great deal that I am unable to grasp right now,’ I answered, as if I was out of breath. ‘However, you’re a good man. Now to another piece of business, and I will ask not for your advice, but for your opinion.’
I was silent for a moment and began:
‘Why do you think that the general got so scared? Why have they all made such a fuss over my very stupid practical joke? Such a fuss that even des Grieux himself found it necessary to get involved (and he gets involved only in the most im
portant matters), pay me a visit (and what a visit!), beg, plead with me – he, des Grieux, begs me! Finally, take note, he came at nine o’clock, just before nine, and he already had Miss Polina’s note in his hands. So when, one wants to know, was it written? Perhaps Miss Polina was roused out of bed for this! Moreover, from this I see that Miss Polina is his slave (because she even asks me for my forgiveness!); moreover, what is all this to her, to her personally? Why is she so interested? Why are they so afraid of some baron? And what if the general is marrying Mlle Blanche de Cominges? They say that they have to behave in some particular way as a result of this circumstance – but this is all too particular, you must agree! What do you think? I’m convinced by your look that you know more than I do here as well!’
Mr Astley grinned and nodded.
‘Indeed, it seems that I do know a great deal more about this than you,’ he said. ‘The whole matter concerns Mlle Blanche alone, and I am certain that this is the absolute truth.’
‘Well, what about Mlle Blanche?’ I cried in impatience (I suddenly hoped that now something would be revealed about Mlle Polina).
‘I think that at the present moment Mlle Blanche has a particular interest in avoiding in any way possible an encounter with the baron and baroness – even more so an unpleasant encounter, and even worse a scandalous one.’
‘Well! Well!’
‘Mlle Blanche was here in Roulettenburg during the season the year before last. And I was here as well. Mlle Blanche then was not called Mlle de Cominges, nor did her mother Madame veuve2 Cominges exist then. At least there was no mention of her. Des Grieux – there was no des Grieux either. I am deeply convinced that not only are they not related, but also that they were not even acquainted until quite recently. Des Grieux also became a marquis only quite recently – I’m convinced of that by a certain circumstance. One might even presume that he took the name des Grieux only recently. I know here a certain individual who has met him under a different name.’
‘But he really does have a respectable circle of acquaintance, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh, that may be. Even Mlle Blanche may have. But the year before last Mlle Blanche, owing to a complaint from this same baroness, received an invitation from the local police to quit the city and she did so.’
‘How is that?’
‘She made her first appearance here then with a certain Italian, some sort of prince, with a historic name, something like Barberini3 or something of the sort. The man was all rings and diamonds, and not fake ones either. They drove around in a marvellous carriage. Mlle Blanche played trente et quarante, at first very well, but then her luck took a sharp turn for the worse, as I recall. I remember that she lost a considerable sum one evening. But worst of all, un beau matin4 her prince vanished no one knows where; the horses and carriage vanished as well – everything vanished. The hotel bill was frightful. Mlle Zelmá (instead of Barberini she had suddenly become Mlle Zelmá) was in the utmost despair. She wailed and screamed for the whole hotel to hear and rent her clothes in a fit of rage. A certain Polish count (all travelling Poles are counts) was staying there in the hotel, and Mlle Zelmá, rending her clothes and scratching her face like a cat with her beautiful hands washed in perfume, made something of an impression on him. They talked things over and by dinner she had consoled herself. In the evening he appeared with her on his arm in the casino. Mlle Zelmá laughed, as was her wont, very loudly, and her manner had become somewhat more composed. She had entered right into the ranks of those ladies who, when they play roulette, walk up to the table and elbow for all they’re worth for a place for themselves among the gamblers at the table. This is considered particularly chic among these ladies. You have, of course, noticed them?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘They’re not worth noticing. To the annoyance of the respectable patrons, they are not asked to leave, at least those who change thousand-franc notes at the table every day. However, as soon as they stop changing notes, they’re immediately asked to move on. Mlle Zelmá still continued to change notes, but her luck was worse than ever. Note that these ladies very often are lucky when they gamble; they have marvellous self-control. However, my story is at an end. One day, the count vanished just as the prince had done. Mlle Zelmá made her appearance that evening alone; this time nobody presented himself to offer his arm. In two days’ time she had lost absolutely everything. After betting her last louis d’or and losing it, she looked around and saw next to her Baron Wurmerhelm, who was scrutinizing her very carefully and with profound indignation. But Mlle Zelmá didn’t detect his indignation, and turning to the baron with her celebrated smile asked him to stake ten louis d’or on red for her. As a result, following a complaint from the baroness, she received an invitation by evening not to make any further appearances in the casino. If you’re surprised at my knowing all these petty and utterly indecent details, it’s only because I’ve heard them at length from Mr Feeder, a relation of mine, who that very evening drove Mlle Zelmá in his carriage from Roulettenburg to Spa.5 Now do you understand? Mlle Blanche wants to become the general’s wife, probably so that in future she will not receive any more invitations like the one she did the year before last from the casino police. She no longer plays now; but that’s because now, to all appearances, she has capital that she lends at interest to the gamblers here. That’s much shrewder. I even suspect that the unfortunate general owes her money, too. Perhaps des Grieux does as well. Perhaps des Grieux is her partner. You must agree that at least until the wedding she would not wish to attract the attention of the baroness and baron for any reason. In a word, nothing could be less to her advantage than a scandal. And you are connected with their household, and your actions might cause a scandal, all the more so since she daily appears in public on the general’s arm or with Miss Polina. Now do you understand?’
‘No, I don’t understand!’ I cried, banging the table so hard that the garçon6 came running in alarm.
‘Tell me, Mr Astley,’ I repeated in a frenzy, ‘if you knew this whole story, and consequently, you know by heart what Mlle Blanche de Cominges is, why didn’t you warn me at least, or the general himself, or finally, and most importantly, Miss Polina, who has appeared here in public at the casino arm in arm with Mlle Blanche. How could you?’
‘There wasn’t any point in warning you, because you couldn’t have done anything,’ Mr Astley answered calmly. ‘And indeed what was there to warn you about? The general perhaps knows even more about Mlle Blanche than I do, and nevertheless he accompanies her and Miss Polina on their walks. The general is an unfortunate man. Yesterday I saw Mlle Blanche galloping on a splendid horse with Monsieur des Grieux and that little Russian prince, while the general galloped behind them on a chestnut. He had said that morning that his feet were aching, but he rode well. And just at that very moment it suddenly occurred to me that he is an utterly ruined man. Moreover, all this is none of my business, and I only recently had the honour of getting to know Miss Polina. However,’ (Mr Astley remembered suddenly), ‘I’ve already told you that I cannot recognize your right to ask certain questions, despite the fact that I sincerely like you …’
‘Enough,’ I said, as I got up, ‘now it’s clear to me as day that Miss Polina also knows everything about Mlle Blanche, but that she can’t part with her Frenchman, and therefore she reconciles herself to the idea of taking walks with Mlle Blanche. Believe me, no other influence would force her to walk with Mlle Blanche and to implore me in a note not to touch the baron. This must be the influence before which everything must bow. And yet it was she herself who set me loose on the baron! The devil take it, you can’t make heads or tails of it!’
‘You’re forgetting, first of all, that this Mlle de Cominges is the general’s fiancée and, secondly, that Miss Polina, the general’s stepdaughter, has a little brother and a little sister, the general’s own children, who have been completely abandoned by this madman and who seem to have been robbed by him as well.’
‘Yes, yes! That�
��s so. To leave the children would mean to abandon them completely, to remain would mean protecting their interests and perhaps saving some scraps of the estate. Yes, yes, all that’s true! But still, still! Oh, I understand now why they all take such an interest in Granny!’
‘In whom?’ Mr Astley asked.
‘In that old witch in Moscow, who won’t die and about whom they wait for a telegram, saying that she’s dead.’
‘Well, yes, of course, all their interests are tied to her. It’s all a matter of the inheritance! If the inheritance is announced, then the general marries; Miss Polina will also be free, and des Grieux …’
‘Well, and what of des Grieux?’
‘Des Grieux will be paid his money; that’s all he’s waiting for here.’
‘Is that all? Do you think he’s only waiting for that?’
‘I don’t know any more,’ Mr Astley fell into a stubborn silence.
‘But I know, I know!’ I repeated, enraged. ‘He’s also waiting for the inheritance, because Polina will receive a dowry, and once she receives the money, she’ll immediately throw herself on his neck. All women are like that! And those that are the proudest turn out to be the most pathetic slaves. Polina is capable only of loving passionately and nothing more! That’s my opinion of her! Just take a look at her, particularly when she’s sitting alone, deep in thought: it’s something destined, fated, cursed! She’s capable of all the horrors of life and passion … she … she … but who is that calling me?’ I suddenly exclaimed. ‘Who’s shouting? I heard someone shout in Russian: “Alexey Ivanovich!” A woman’s voice, listen, listen!’
At this moment we were approaching our hotel. We had left the cafe long ago now, almost without noticing it.
‘I heard a woman shouting, but I don’t know who is being called; it was in Russian; now I see where the shouts are coming from,’ Mr Astley was pointing, ‘it’s that woman who’s shouting, the one sitting in the large chair and who has just been carried on to the porch by all those lackeys. They’re carrying up suitcases behind her, which means that the train has just arrived.’
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