“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.