Indeed, it was as if fate were urging me on. This time, as if on purpose, a circumstance occurred that, however, happens rather frequently in gambling. Chance becomes attached, say, to red and doesn’t drop it for ten times, even fifteen times in a row. The day before yesterday I had heard that the previous week red came up twenty times in a row; nobody could even recall that happening in roulette and it was talked about with amazement. It goes without saying, everybody immediately drops red, and after the tenth time, say, almost nobody risks placing a stake on it. But none of the experienced gamblers stakes on black, the opposite of red, either. The experienced gambler knows what ‘the caprice of chance’ means. For example, it would seem that after coming up red sixteen times the seventeenth time without fail will come up black. And all the novices rush forward in crowds to double and triple their stakes, and lose terribly.
But on account of some sort of strange wilfulness, after observing that red had come up seven times in a row, I deliberately stuck with it. I’m convinced that pride was half responsible; I wanted to amaze the onlookers with this senseless risk, and – oh, the peculiar sensation – I distinctly remember that I really was suddenly overcome with a terrible craving for risk without any encouragement on the part of my pride. Perhaps when it undergoes so many sensations, the soul is not satiated, but merely irritated by them and demands still more sensations, stronger and stronger ones, until it reaches utter exhaustion. And I’m really not lying when I say that if the rules of the game allowed me to stake 50,000 florins at a time, I would certainly have done so. All round they were shouting that it was madness, that red had already come up fourteen times!
‘Monsieur a gagné déjà cent mille florins,’6 someone’s voice next to me rang out.
I suddenly came to my senses. What? That evening I had won 100,000 florins! Whatever did I need more for? I fell upon the banknotes, crumpled them into my pocket without counting them, raked up all my gold coins and all the rolls, and ran out of the casino. Everybody around laughed as I made my way through the halls, looking at my bulging pockets and my unsteady gait from the weight of the gold. I think that it was well over half a pood.7 Several hands stretched out towards me; I doled it out by the handful, as much as I happened to grab. Two Jews stopped me by the exit.
‘You are bold! You are very bold!’ they said to me. ‘But you must leave tomorrow morning without fail, as early as possible, otherwise you will lose absolutely everything …’
I didn’t listen to them. The avenue was so dark that you couldn’t make out your hands in front of your face. It was half a verst to the hotel. I had never been afraid of thieves or robbers before, even when I was little; I didn’t give them any thought now. I don’t remember though what I was thinking about as I made my way; I had no thoughts about anything. I felt some sort of terrible delight at my good fortune, victory, power – I don’t know how to express it. I also glimpsed Polina’s image fleetingly; I remembered and was conscious of one fact: that I was going to her, that I would meet her now and tell her, show her … but I scarcely recalled what she had said to me earlier or why I had gone, and all of those recent sensations, which I had experienced just an hour and a half ago, now seemed something long past, remedied, superseded – something we would no longer remember, because now everything would begin anew. Almost at the end of the avenue I was seized by fear: ‘What if I’m robbed and murdered right now?’ My fear doubled with each step. I was almost running. Suddenly at the end of the avenue our hotel flashed into view all at once, illuminated by innumerable lights. Thank God – home!
I ran up to my floor and quickly opened the door. Polina was there, sitting on my sofa, arms folded, with a lighted candle in front of her. She looked at me with amazement and, to be sure, at that moment I looked rather strange. I stopped in front of her and began tossing my money on to the table in a pile.
CHAPTER 15
I remember she looked in my face with a terrible intensity, but without moving from where she was sitting, without even changing her position.
‘I won 200,000 francs,’ I cried, as I tossed down the last roll. An enormous pile of banknotes and rolls of gold coins took up the whole table; I couldn’t take my eyes off it; there were moments when I completely forgot about Polina. Now I’d start putting these heaps of banknotes in order by making a stack of them, then I’d separate all the gold coins into one general pile; then I’d stop all that and begin pacing quickly about the room, then fall deep into thought, and then suddenly I’d walk over to the table again, and begin counting my money all over again. Suddenly it was as if I had come to my senses, and I rushed to the door and quickly locked it, turning the key around twice. Then I paused to reflect in front of my suitcase.
‘Should I put it in my suitcase tomorrow?’ I asked, suddenly turning to Polina, and suddenly remembering about her. She was still sitting, without moving, in the same place, but she was watching me intently. The expression on her face was somehow strange; I didn’t like that look! I would not be wrong if I were to say that there was hatred in it.
I quickly walked over to her.
‘Polina, here’s 25,000 florins – that’s 50,000 francs, even more. Take it, throw it in his face tomorrow!’
She didn’t answer me.
‘If you want, I’ll take it myself, early in the morning. Shall I?’
She suddenly burst out laughing. She laughed for a long time.
I looked at her with surprise and a sorrowful feeling. This laughter was very much like her recent, frequent, mocking laughter at me, which had always attended my most passionate declarations. Finally, she stopped and frowned; she looked at me sternly from under her brows.
‘I won’t take your money,’ she uttered scornfully.
‘Why? What’s the matter?’ I cried. ‘Polina, for goodness’ sake, why?’
‘I don’t take money for nothing.’
‘I offer it to you as a friend; I am offering you my life.’
She looked at me with a prolonged, searching look, as if she wanted to pierce me through.
‘You’re giving too much,’ she uttered with a smile. ‘Des Grieux’s mistress isn’t worth 50,000 francs.’
‘Polina, how can you talk to me like that!’ I exclaimed reproachfully. ‘I’m not des Grieux, am I?’
‘I hate you! Yes … yes! … I don’t love you any more than I do des Grieux,’ she exclaimed, her eyes suddenly beginning to flash.
And then she covered her face with her hands and went into hysterics. I rushed to her.
I understood that something had happened to her in my absence. She was not at all in her right mind.
‘Buy me! Is that what you want? Is it? For 50,000 francs, like des Grieux?’ she burst into convulsive sobs. I embraced her, kissed her hands and feet; I fell to my knees before her.
Her hysterics were subsiding. She placed both her hands on my shoulders and scrutinized me intently; it seemed that she wanted to read something in my face. She listened to me, but evidently did not hear what I was saying. Her face assumed a worried and brooding look. I was afraid for her; it definitely seemed that she was losing her mind. Now she would suddenly start to draw me to her; a trusting smile wandered across her face; and then suddenly she would push me away and once again take to peering at me with a darkened look.
Suddenly she rushed to embrace me.
‘But you do love me, don’t you, don’t you?’ she said. ‘After all you, after all you … you wanted to fight the baron for my sake!’ And suddenly she burst out laughing, as if the memory of something funny and nice had suddenly come to her. She both wept and laughed – at the same time. Well, what was I to do? I seemed to be in a fever myself. I remember that she began saying something to me, but I could understand hardly a thing. It was a sort of delirium, a babbling – as if she wanted to tell me something as quickly as possible – a delirium that at times was interrupted by the most cheerful laughter, which began to frighten me. ‘No, no, you’re a dear, a dear!’ she repeated. ‘You’re my
faithful one!’ and once again she would place her hands on my shoulders, and once again she would peer at me and continue to repeat: ‘You love me … love me … will you love me?’ I didn’t take my eyes off of her; I had never before seen her in these paroxysms of tenderness and love; true, this of course was delirium, but … noticing the passionate look on my face, she suddenly began to smile cunningly; out of the blue she suddenly began talking about Mr Astley.
However, she had been talking about Mr Astley constantly (particularly when she had been making such efforts to tell me something earlier), but what precisely she was trying to say, I could not fully grasp; I think she was even laughing at him; she kept constantly repeating that he was waiting … and did I know that he was probably standing under the window now? ‘Yes, yes, under the window – well, open it, take a look, take a look, he’s here, here!’ She was pushing me towards the window, but as soon as I made the move to go, she burst into peals of laughter, and I would remain by her side, and she rushed to embrace me.
‘Are we leaving? We’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t we?’ suddenly occurred to her uneasy mind. ‘Well …’ (and she fell into thought) ‘well, but will we catch up with Grandmother, what do you think? I think we’ll catch up with her in Berlin. What do you think she’ll say when we catch up with her and she sees us? And Mr Astley? … Well, that one won’t jump off the Schlangenberg, do you think?’ (She burst out laughing.) ‘Well, listen: do you know where he’s going next summer? He wants to go to the North Pole for scientific research and he invited me to go with him, ha-ha-ha! He says that we Russians wouldn’t know anything without the Europeans and that we aren’t capable of anything … But he’s also a kind man! Do you know that he excuses the “general”; he says that Blanche … that passion – well, I don’t know, I don’t know,’ she suddenly repeated as if she’d lost her train of thought while she was speaking. ‘The poor things, I feel so sorry for them, and Grandmother … Well, listen, listen, how could you kill des Grieux? And did you really, really think that you would kill him? Oh, you silly fool. Did you really think that I would let you go to fight des Grieux? And you won’t kill the baron either,’ she added, after a sudden burst of laughter. ‘Oh, how ridiculous you were with the baron then; I watched you both from the bench; and how loath you were to go then, when I sent you. And how I laughed, how I laughed then,’ she added, roaring with laughter.
And suddenly she kissed and embraced me again, she passionately and tenderly pressed her face to mine again. I no longer thought about anything else and no longer heard anything. My head was spinning …
I think that it was around seven o’clock in the morning when I came to my senses; the sun was shining into the room. Polina sat beside me and looked about strangely, as if she were emerging from some sort of gloom and collecting her thoughts. She, too, had only just woken up and was looking intently at the table and at the money. My head was heavy and ached. I wanted to take Polina by the hand; she suddenly pushed me away and jumped up from the sofa. The dawning day was overcast; it had rained before daybreak. She walked over to the window, opened it, thrust out her head and shoulders and, leaning on the windowsill with her hand, her elbows resting on the frame, she stayed there for about three minutes, without turning around towards me or listening to what I was saying. I dreaded to think what would happen next and how it would all end. Suddenly she got up from the window, walked over to the table, and, looking at me with an expression of infinite hatred, her lips trembling with fury, she said to me:
‘Well, now give me my 50,000 francs!’
‘Polina, again, again!’ I began.
‘Or have you changed your mind? Ha-ha-ha! Perhaps you already regret it?’
The 25,000 florins, which I had already counted out last night, lay on the table; I picked the packet up and gave it to her.
‘They’re mine now, right? Isn’t that right? Isn’t it?’ she asked me spitefully, holding the money in her hands.
‘But it was always yours,’ I said.
‘Well, so here’s your 50,000 francs!’ She made a sweeping gesture with her arm and hurled them at me. The packet hit me painfully in the face and scattered all over the floor. After doing this, Polina ran out of the room.
I know, of course, that she was not in her right mind at that moment, although I don’t understand this temporary insanity. True, to this day, a month later, she is still ill. However, what was the cause of this condition and, the main point, of this outburst? Wounded pride? Despair that she had resolved on coming to me? Had I given her the impression that I was relishing my good fortune and that when all was said and done I was just like des Grieux, wanting to get rid of her by making her a present of 50,000 francs? But, you see, that wasn’t the case; my conscience is clear. I think her vanity was partly to blame here: vanity prompted her not to believe me and to insult me, although all this was perhaps unclear even to herself. In that case, of course, I was answering for des Grieux and was found guilty, though perhaps my guilt was not so great. It’s true, all this was merely delirium; and it’s also true that I knew she was delirious, and … paid no attention to that circumstance. Perhaps she can’t forgive me for this now? Yes, but that’s now; but what about then? You see, her delirium and illness were not so severe that she was completely unaware of what she was doing, when she came to me with des Grieux’s letter. That means that she must have known what she was doing.
I made a slapdash effort to stuff all my banknotes and my pile of gold into the bed, pulled up the covers and left about ten minutes after Polina. I was certain that she had run back to her room, and I wanted to make my way to their quarters on the sly and ask the nanny about the young lady’s health. Imagine my surprise when I learned from the nanny, whom I met on the stairs, that Polina had not yet returned home and that the nanny was coming to my room to look for her.
‘Just now,’ I said to her, ‘she just now left my room, ten minutes ago, where could she have gone?’
The nanny looked at me reproachfully.
Meanwhile, a regular scandal had erupted, which was already making the rounds of the hotel. In the porters’ room and the manager’s office it was being whispered that this morning, at six o’clock, the fraülein1 had run out of the hotel, in the rain, and had run off in the direction of the Hotel d’Angleterre. From what they said and the hints they gave, I noticed that they already knew that she had spent the whole night in my room. However, there was talk about all of the general’s family: it was known that yesterday the general had lost his mind and had been weeping for all the hotel to hear. There was also talk that the grandmother who had come was his mother and that she had travelled from Russia itself in order to forbid her son to marry Mlle de Cominges, and that if he disobeyed she would disinherit him, and as he indeed had not obeyed, the Countess intentionally, right before his very eyes, gambled away all her money at the roulette table so that he would get nothing. ‘Diese Russen!’2 the manager indignantly repeated, shaking his head. The others laughed. The manager was preparing the bill. People already knew about my winnings; Karl, my floor attendant, was the first to congratulate me. But I had other things on my mind. I rushed off to the Hotel d’Angleterre.
It was still early; Mr Astley was not receiving anyone; upon learning that it was I, he came out into the hall and stopped in front of me, silently fastening his lustreless look on me, and waited to hear what I had to say. I at once asked about Polina.
‘She’s ill,’ Mr Astley answered, staring straight at me as before, not taking his eyes off me.
‘Then she really is with you?’
‘Oh, yes, she’s with me.’
‘So then you … you intend to keep her with you?’
‘Oh, yes, I do.’
‘Mr Astley, this will create a scandal; it’s impossible. Besides, she’s quite ill; perhaps you noticed?’
‘Oh, yes, I noticed and I already said to you that she was ill. If she weren’t ill, she wouldn’t have spent the night in your room.’
‘So
you know that as well?’
‘I do. She was coming here yesterday, and I would have taken her to a relative of mine, but since she was ill she made a mistake and went to you.’
‘Just imagine! Well, I congratulate you, Mr Astley. By the way, you’ve given me an idea. Were you by any chance standing all night beneath my window? All night long Miss Polina kept having me open the window and look out to see whether you were standing there, and she laughed terribly.’
‘Is that so? No, I wasn’t standing beneath the window; but I was waiting in the hall and walking around.’
‘But she needs to see a doctor, Mr Astley.’
‘Oh, yes, I’ve already called a doctor, and if she dies, you’ll answer to me for her death.’
I was astounded.
‘For goodness’ sake, Mr Astley, what do you mean?’
‘And is it true that you won 200,000 thalers yesterday?’
‘Only a hundred thousand florins.’
‘Well then, you see! So then, off you go to Paris this morning.’
‘Why?’
‘All Russians who have money go to Paris,’ Mr Astley explained in a voice and tone as if he were reading this from a book.
‘What would I do now, in the summertime, in Paris? I love her, Mr Astley. You know that yourself.’
‘Is that so? I’m convinced that you don’t. Moreover, if you stay here, you’ll be certain to gamble away everything, and you won’t have anything to pay for your trip to Paris. Well, goodbye, I’m absolutely convinced that you’ll leave today for Paris.’
‘Fine, goodbye, only I’m not going to Paris. Just think, Mr Astley, what will be happening here. In a word, the general … and now this adventure with Miss Polina – you see, all this will make the rounds of the whole town.’
The Gambler and Other Stories (Penguin ed.) Page 32