Three days after this fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning,
Hermann entered the convent where the last respects were to be paid to
the mortal remains of the old Countess. He felt no remorse, though he
could not deny to himself that he was the poor woman's assassin. Having
no religion, he was, as usual in such cases, very superstitious;
believing that the dead Countess might exercise a malignant influence on
his life, he thought to appease her spirit by attending her funeral.
The church was full of people, and it was difficult to get in. The body
had been placed on a rich catafalque, beneath a canopy of velvet. The
Countess was reposing in an open coffin, her hands joined on her breast,
with a dress of white satin, and head-dress of lace. Around the
catafalque the family was assembled, the servants in black caftans with
a knot of ribbons on the shoulder, exhibiting the colours of the
Countess's coat of arms. Each of them held a wax candle in his hand. The
relations, in deep mourning--children, grandchildren, and
great-grandchildren--were all present; but none of them wept.
To have shed tears would have looked like affectation. The Countess was
so old that her death could have taken no one by surprise, and she had
long been looked upon as already out of the world. The funeral sermon
was delivered by a celebrated preacher. In a few simple, touching
phrases he painted the final departure of the just, who had passed long
years of contrite preparation for a Christian end. The service concluded
in the midst of respectful silence. Then the relations went towards the
defunct to take a last farewell. After them, in a long procession, all
who had been invited to the ceremony bowed, for the last time, to her
who for so many years had been a scarecrow at their entertainments.
Finally came the Countess's household; among them was remarked an old
governess, of the same age as the deceased, supported by two women. She
had not strength enough to kneel down, but tears flowed from her eyes,
as she kissed the hand of her old mistress.
In his turn Hermann advanced towards the coffin. He knelt down for a
moment on the flagstones, which were strewed with branches of yew. Then
he rose, as pale as death, and walked up the steps of the catafalque. He
bowed his head. But suddenly the dead woman seemed to be staring at him;
and with a mocking look she opened and shut one eye. Hermann by a sudden
movement started and fell backwards. Several persons hurried towards
him. At the same moment, close to the church door, Lisabeta fainted.
* * * * *
Throughout the day, Hermann suffered from a strange indisposition. In a
quiet restaurant, where he took his meals, he, contrary to his habit,
drank a great deal of wine, with the object of stupefying himself. But
the wine had no effect but to excite his imagination, and give fresh
activity to the ideas with which he was preoccupied.
[Illustration: "HERMANN STARTED AND FELL BACKWARDS."]
He went home earlier than usual; lay down with his clothes on upon the
bed, and fell into a leaden sleep. When he woke up it was night, and the
room was lighted up by the rays of the moon. He looked at his watch; it
was a quarter to three. He could sleep no more. He sat up on the bed and
thought of the old Countess. At this moment someone in the street passed
the window, looked into the room, and then went on. Hermann scarcely
noticed it; but in another minute he heard the door of the ante-chamber
open. He thought that his orderly, drunk as usual, was returning from
some nocturnal excursion; but the step was one to which he was not
accustomed. Somebody seemed to be softly walking over the floor in
slippers.
The door opened, and a woman, dressed entirely in white, entered the
bedroom. Hermann thought it must be his old nurse, and he asked himself
what she could want at that time of night.
But the woman in white, crossing the room with a rapid step, was now at
the foot of his bed, and Hermann recognised the Countess.
"I come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice. "I am forced
to grant your prayer. Three, seven, ace, will win, if played one after
the other; but you must not play more than one card in twenty-four
hours, and afterwards as long as you live you must never touch a card
again. I forgive you my death, on condition of your marrying my
companion, Lisabeta Ivanovna."
[Illustration: "THREE, SEVEN, ACE."]
With these words she walked towards the door, and gliding with her
slippers over the floor, disappeared. Hermann heard the door of the
ante-chamber open, and soon afterwards saw a white figure pass along the
street. It stopped for a moment before his window, as if to look at him.
Hermann remained for some time astounded. Then he got up and went into
the next room. His orderly, drunk as usual, was asleep on the floor. He
had much difficulty in waking him, and then could not obtain from him
the least explanation. The door of the ante-chamber was locked.
Hermann went back to his bedroom, and wrote down all the details of his
vision.