On the third floor, in their corridor, somebody seemed to have nudged me. I turned around and, twenty paces away if not more, I saw Polina coming out the door. It was as if she had been waiting and looking for me, and she at once beckoned me to her.
‘Polina Alexandrovna …’
‘Quiet!’ she warned.
‘Just imagine,’ I whispered, ‘it was as if something had just nudged me in the side; I turn around – and it’s you! It’s as if some sort of electricity were flowing from you!’
‘Take this letter,’ Polina said, worried and frowning, probably without hearing what I had said, ‘and deliver it immediately to Mr Astley in person. Quickly, I beg you. There’s no need for an answer. He himself …’
She didn’t finish.
‘Mr Astley?’ I repeated with surprise.
But Polina had already disappeared behind the door.
‘Aha! So they correspond!’ It goes without saying that I at once ran off in search of Mr Astley, first at his hotel, where I didn’t find him, then to the casino, where I ran through all the rooms, and finally, as I was making my way back home, frustrated, almost in despair, I met him by chance, in a cavalcade of some English men and women on horseback. I beckoned to him, stopped him and handed him the letter. We hadn’t even had time to exchange a glance. But I suspect that Mr Astley deliberately gave rein to his horse as quickly as possible.
Was I tormented by jealousy? My spirits were certainly shattered. I didn’t even want to find out what they were writing to each other about. So then, he’s her confidant! ‘He may be her friend all right,’ I thought, ‘and that’s clear (but when did he manage that), but is it a matter of love?’ Of course not, my reason whispered. But then reason alone counts for so little in such situations. In any event, this too would need to be cleared up. The matter was becoming unpleasantly complicated.
But even as I entered the hotel, the porter and the manager, who had just come out of his room, informed me that I was wanted, that they were looking for me, that they had already called to enquire of my whereabouts three times – and that it had been requested that I make my way to the general’s rooms as quickly as possible. I was in a most foul frame of mind. In the general’s study I found, apart from the general himself, des Grieux and Mlle Blanche alone, without her mother. The mother was most definitely a blind, used only for show; but when it came to real business, then Mlle Blanche handled it all by herself. And in all likelihood the woman knew nothing about the affairs of her so-called daughter.
The three of them were heatedly conferring about something, and the door to the study was even locked, which had never been the case before. As I approached the door, I could make out loud voices – the impertinent and caustic speech of des Grieux, the brazenly abusive and furious cries of Mlle Blanche and the pitiful voice of the general, who was evidently trying to vindicate himself about something. Upon my appearance they all seemed to show more restraint and pulled themselves together. Des Grieux smoothed his hair and changed his face from angry to smiling – the sort of nasty, officially courteous French smile that I loathe so. The crushed and flustered general assumed a dignified air, but somewhat mechanically. Only Mlle Blanche scarcely changed the expression on her face, ablaze with anger, and merely fell silent, fixing her gaze upon me with impatient expectation. I will note that up to now she had been unbelievably offhand in her treatment of me, and would not even respond to my bows – she simply ignored me.
‘Alexey Ivanovich,’ the general began in a gently scolding tone of voice, ‘allow me to state that it is strange, exceedingly strange … in a word, your conduct in regard to me and my family … is, in a word, exceedingly strange …’
‘Eh! ce n’est pas ça,’ des Grieux interrupted with annoyance and disdain. (He was definitely the boss here!) ‘Mon cher monsieur, notre cher general se trompe,6 when he adopts such a tone,’ (I will continue his speech in Russian), ‘but he wished to say to you … that is, to warn you, or rather, to ask you most persuasively not to ruin him – yes, that’s right, ruin! I use precisely this expression …’
‘But how, how?’ I cut him short.
‘Good heavens, you’re undertaking to become the guide (or what shall I call it?) of this old woman, cette pauvre terrible vieille,’7 des Grieux hemmed and hawed, ‘but you know that she’ll gamble away everything; she’ll be ruined! You yourself have seen, you were a witness to how she plays! If she begins to lose, she won’t leave the table out of stubbornness, out of fury, and she’ll keep playing and playing, and in such cases one never wins back what has been lost, and then … then …’
‘And then,’ the general took over, ‘then you will have ruined the entire family! My family and I, we are her heirs, she doesn’t have any closer relations. I will tell you candidly that my affairs are in shambles, an absolute shambles. You know something of this yourself … If she were to lose a significant sum or even the entire fortune (God forbid!), then what will become of them, what will become of my children!’ (The general glanced at des Grieux.) ‘And of me!’ (He looked at Mlle Blanche, who had turned away from him in disdain.) ‘Alexey Ivanovich, save us, save us! …’
‘But how, General, tell me, what can I do … What do I matter in all this?’
‘Refuse to help her, refuse, leave her! …’
‘Then someone else will be found!’ I cried.
‘Ce n’est pas ça, ce n’est pas ça,’ des Grieux interrupted again, ‘que diable! No, don’t forsake her, but at the very least appeal to her conscience, persuade her, distract her … Well, in the end, don’t let her lose too much, distract her somehow.’
‘And how am I going to do that? If you were to take it on yourself, Monsieur des Grieux,’ I added as naively as I could.
At this point I noticed the quick, fiery, questioning glance Mlle Blanche gave des Grieux. Something peculiar, something unconcealed that he could not hold back was glimpsed fleetingly in des Grieux’s own face.
‘But that’s just it, she won’t have me now!’ des Grieux cried out, with a wave of his hand. ‘If only! … Later! …’
Des Grieux cast a quick and significant glance at Mlle Blanche.
‘O mon cher monsieur Alexis, soyez si bon,’8 Mlle Blanche herself stepped towards me with an enchanting smile, took me by both hands and clasped them firmly. The devil take it! That diabolical face was capable of changing in a single second. At that moment her face looked so imploring, so sweet, smiling like a child and even naughty; when she had finished speaking, she gave me a roguish wink, on the sly from everyone; did she want to knock me off my feet all at once, was that it? And it didn’t come off badly – but it was so crudely done, however, terribly so.
The general leapt up, he positively leapt up after her.
‘Alexey Ivanovich, forgive me for beginning with you like that just now, I didn’t at all mean to say … Forgive me, I implore you, I bow down before you in the Russian manner – you alone, you alone can save us! Mlle de Cominges and I implore you – you understand, you do understand, don’t you?’ he implored, turning his eyes on Mlle Blanche. He was very pitiful.
At that moment three quiet, polite knocks on the door were heard; it was opened – the servant for that floor had knocked, and several steps behind him stood Potapych. The ambassadors were from Grandmother. She had ordered that I be found and delivered immediately. ‘She’s angry,’ Potapych declared.
‘But it’s only half past three!’
‘She couldn’t fall asleep, she kept tossing and turning, then she suddenly got up, ordered the chair and sent for you. She’s already on the porch, sir …’
‘Quelle mégère!’9 des Grieux cried out.
Indeed, I found Grandmother on the porch, running out of patience because I wasn’t there. She couldn’t wait until four o’clock.
‘Well, lift me up!’ she cried, and we set off once again for the roulette tables.
CHAPTER 12
Grandmother was in an impatient and irritable state of mind; clearly, she
had become obsessed with roulette. To everything else she paid little attention and in general was extremely absent-minded. For example, as we made our way she didn’t ask about anything as she had done earlier. Catching sight of an exceedingly opulent carriage that tore past us, she raised her hand and asked, ‘What’s that? Who does it belong to?’ – but didn’t seem to hear my reply; her brooding was constantly interrupted by abrupt and impatient movements and outbursts. When I pointed out Baron and Baroness Wurmerhelm in the distance, as we were approaching the casino, she absent-mindedly looked and said with complete indifference: ‘Ah!’ – and then quickly turning around to Potapych and Marfa, who were walking behind, snapped at them:
‘Well, why are you dogging my every step? I’m not going to take you every time! Go home! You and I are enough,’ she added for my benefit, after they hastily made their bows and turned for home.
They were already expecting Grandmother in the casino. They at once made room for her in the same place, next to the croupier. It seems to me that these croupiers, who are always so proper and who make themselves out to be ordinary functionaries, who are almost completely indifferent whether the bank wins or loses, are not at all indifferent to the bank’s losses, and of course are given some instructions for attracting players and for the overall management of the firm’s interests, for which they certainly receive rewards and bonuses. In any event, they looked upon Grandmother as their prey. Then what had been predicted did in fact take place.
Here’s how it went.
Grandmother went straight for zéro and at once ordered that twelve friedrichs d’or be staked. We staked it once, twice, three times – zéro never came up.
‘Stake, stake!’ Grandmother poked me impatiently. I obeyed.
‘How many times have we staked and lost?’ she asked finally, gnashing her teeth in impatience.
‘That was the twelfth time, Grandmother. We’ve lost 144 friedrichs d’or. I’m telling you, Grandmother, it might go on like this until evening …’
‘Be quiet!’ Grandmother interrupted. ‘Stake on zéro and stake a thousand gulden on red now. Here’s a banknote, take it.’
Red came up, but zéro lost again; we got back a thousand gulden.
‘You see, you see!’ Grandmother whispered, ‘we got back almost all that we lost. Stake on zéro again; we’ll stake another ten times and then quit.’
But Grandmother was completely bored by the fifth time.
‘The devil take that nasty little zéro. Here, stake all 4,000 gulden on red,’ she ordered.
‘Grandmother! That’s a lot; what if it doesn’t land on red?’ I implored her; but Grandmother almost hit me. (But then she was poking me so hard that one might almost say that she was hitting me.) There was nothing to be done, I staked on red all 4,000 gulden that we had just won. The wheel began to spin. Grandmother sat quietly and proudly bolt upright, not doubting that she was certain to win.
‘Zéro,’ the croupier proclaimed.
At first Grandmother didn’t understand, but when she saw that the croupier had gathered up her 4,000 gulden along with everything that was on the table and learned that zéro, which had not come up for so long and on which we had staked and lost almost 200 friedrichs d’or, had just turned up, as if on purpose when Grandmother had just been calling it names and given up on it, she exclaimed and threw up her hands for the whole room to see. The people around us even started laughing.
‘Goodness gracious! That confounded thing turns up now!’ Grandmother howled, ‘what an accursed, accursed thing! It’s your doing! It’s all your doing!’ she savagely fell to pummelling me. ‘You were the one who talked me out of it.’
‘Grandmother, I talked sense to you; how can I answer for all the odds?’
‘I’ll give you odds!’ she whispered menacingly, ‘get out of my sight.’
‘Goodbye, Grandmother,’ and I turned around to walk away.
‘Alexey Ivanovich, Alexey Ivanovich, stop! Where are you going? Well, what’s the matter, what’s the matter? Look, he’s angry! Fool! Come stay a bit, stay a bit more, come, don’t be angry, I’m the fool! Come, tell me, what I should do now!’
‘Grandmother, I won’t take it upon myself to suggest anything to you, because you’ll blame me. Play your own game; you tell me what to do and I’ll stake for you.’
‘Well, well! Then stake another 4,000 gulden on red! Here’s my pocketbook, take it.’ She took it from her pocket and gave it to me. ‘Come, take it quickly, there’s 20,000 roubles in cash there.’
‘Grandmother,’ I whispered, ‘such large sums …’
‘Life’s not worth living if I don’t win it back. Stake!’
We staked and lost.
‘Stake, stake, stake all eight!’
‘I can’t, Grandmother, four is the largest sum! …’
‘Then stake four!’
This time we won. Grandmother cheered up.
‘You see, you see!’ she began nudging me, ‘stake four again!’
We staked – and lost; and then we lost again and again.
‘Grandmother, all 12,000 are gone,’ I reported.
‘I see that it’s all gone,’ she uttered in a state of calm fury, if I may put it that way. ‘I see, my dear fellow, I see,’ she muttered, with a fixed stare as though she were pondering something. ‘Eh! Life’s not worth living, stake another 4,000 gulden!’
‘But there isn’t any money, Grandmother; there’s some of our five per-cent notes in the pocketbook and some sort of money orders, but no money.’
‘What about the purse?’
‘Only some change, Grandmother.’
‘Do they have exchange bureaus here? I was told that all our notes can be exchanged,’ Grandmother asked with determination.
‘Oh, as many as you like! But what you lose in the exchange is so much … that even a Jew would be horrified!’
‘Nonsense! I’ll win it back! Take me. Call those blockheads!’
I wheeled the chair away, the porters turned up and we left the casino.
‘Faster, faster, faster!’ Grandmother commanded. ‘Lead the way, Alexey Ivanovich, to the closest one … is it far?’
‘A stone’s throw, Grandmother.’
But at the turn from the square into the avenue we ran into all our party: the general, des Grieux and Mlle Blanche with her mother. Polina Alexandrovna wasn’t with them, nor was Mr Astley.
‘Well, well, well! Don’t stop!’ Grandmother shouted. ‘Well, what do you want? I don’t have time for you now!’
I was walking behind; des Grieux came running up to me.
‘She lost all of her earlier winnings and squandered 12,000 gulden of her own. We’re off to exchange some five per-cent notes,’ I whispered to him hastily.
Des Grieux stamped his foot and rushed to inform the general. We continued wheeling Grandmother.
‘Stop her, stop her!’ the general whispered to me in a frenzy.
‘And you just try stopping her,’ I whispered to him.
‘Auntie!’ the general said as he approached, ‘Auntie … we’re just now … we’re just now …’ (his voice was trembling and failing him) ‘we’re going to hire horses and take a ride in the country … There’s a breathtaking view … the pointe … we were coming to invite you.’
‘Oh, enough of you and your pointe!’ Grandmother waved him away in exasperation.
‘There’s a village … we’ll have tea there …’ the general continued, now in complete despair.
‘Nous boirons du lait, sur l’herbe fraîche,’1 des Grieux put in with savage anger.
Du lait, de l’herbe fraîche – it’s just what the Parisian bourgeois finds ideally idyllic; this constitutes, as we know, his view on ‘nature et la vérité’.2
‘Oh, enough of you and your milk! Go swill it yourself, I get a bellyache from it. And why are you pestering me?!’ Grandmother cried out, ‘I told you, I don’t have time!’
‘Here we are, Grandmother!’ I cried out, ‘here it is!’
We had come to the building that housed the banker’s office. I went in to change the notes; Grandmother remained waiting at the entrance; des Grieux, the general and Blanche, not knowing what to do, stood off to the side. Grandmother gave them an angry look and they walked down the road to the casino.
They offered me such an awful rate that I couldn’t bring myself to do it and returned to Grandmother to ask for instructions.
‘Ah, the robbers!’ she cried out, clasping her hands. ‘Well! There’s nothing to be done. Change it!’ she cried out with determination. ‘Stop, ask the banker to come and see me!’
‘Do you mean one of the clerks, Grandmother?’
‘Yes, a clerk, it doesn’t make any difference. Ah, the robbers!’
The clerk agreed to come out, upon learning that he was being asked by an elderly, frail countess, who could not walk. Grandmother angrily and loudly reproached him for a long time for swindling her, and she haggled with him in a mixture of Russian, French and German, while I helped with the translation. The serious clerk kept looking at us both and shaking his head in silence. He even scrutinized Grandmother with a curiosity that was so intent that it was disrespectful; finally, he began to smile.
The Gambler and Other Stories (Penguin ed.) Page 28