_THE QUEEN OF SPADES_
I
There was a card party at the rooms of Naroumoff, of the Horse
Guards. The long winter night passed away imperceptibly, and it
was five o'clock in the morning before the company sat down to
supper. Those who had won ate with a good appetite; the others
sat staring absently at their empty plates. When the champagne
appeared, however, the conversation became more animated, and all
took a part in it.
"And how did you fare, Souirin?" asked the host.
"Oh, I lost, as usual. I must confess that I am unlucky. I play
mirandole, I always keep cool, I never allow anything to put me
out, and yet I always lose!"
"And you did not once allow yourself to be tempted to back the
red? Your firmness astonishes me."
"But what do you think of Hermann?" said one of the guests,
pointing to a young engineer. "He has never had a card in his
hand in his life, he has never in his life laid a wager; and yet
he sits here till five o'clock in the morning watching our play."
"Play interests me very much," said Hermann, "but I am not in the
position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the
superfluous."
"Hermann is a German; he is economical--that is all!" observed
Tomsky. "But if there is one person that I cannot understand, it
is my grandmother, the Countess Anna Fedorovna!"
"How so?" inquired the guests.
"I cannot understand," continued Tomsky, "how it is that my
grandmother does not punt."
"Then you do not know the reason why?"
"No, really; I haven't the faintest idea. But let me tell you the
story. You must know that about sixty years ago my grandmother went to
Paris, where she created quite a sensation. People used to run after
her to catch a glimpse of the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love
to her, and my grandmother maintains that he almost blew out his
brains in consequence of her cruelty. At that time ladies used to play
at faro. On one occasion at the Court, she lost a very considerable
sum to the Duke of Orleans. On returning home, my grandmother removed
the patches from her face, took off her hoops, informed my grandfather
of her loss at the gaming-table, and ordered him to pay the money. My
deceased grandfather, as far as I remember, was a sort of
house-steward to my grandmother. He dreaded her like fire; but, on
hearing of such a heavy loss, he almost went out of his mind. He
calculated the various sums she had lost, and pointed out to her that
in six months she had spent half a million of francs; that neither
their Moscow nor Saratoff estates were in Paris; and, finally, refused
point-blank to pay the debt. My grandmother gave him a box on the ear
and slept by herself as a sign of her displeasure. The next day she
sent for her husband, hoping that this domestic punishment had
produced an effect upon him, but she found him inflexible. For the
first time in her life she entered into reasonings and explanations
with him, thinking to be able to convince him by pointing out to him
that there are debts and debts, and that there is a great difference
between a prince and a coachmaker.
"But it was all in vain, my grandfather still remained obdurate. But
the matter did not rest there. My grandmother did not know what to do.
She had shortly before become acquainted with a very remarkable man.
You have heard of Count St. Germain, about whom so many marvelous
stories are told. You know that he represented himself as the
Wandering Jew, as the discoverer of the elixir of life, of the
philosopher's stone, and so forth. Some laughed at him as a charlatan;
but Casnova, in his memoirs, says that he was a spy. But be that as it
may, St. Germain, in spite of the mystery surrounding him, was a very
fascinating person, and was much sought after in the best circles of
society. Even to this day my grandmother retains an affectionate
recollection of him, and becomes quite angry if anyone speaks
disrespectfully of him. My grandmother knew that St. Germain had large
sums of money at his disposal.
"She resolved to have recourse to him, and she wrote a letter to him
asking him to come to her without delay. The queer old man immediately
waited upon her, and found her overwhelmed with grief. She described
to him in the blackest colors the barbarity of her husband, and ended
by declaring that her whole hope depended upon his friendship and
amiability.
"St. Germain reflected.
"'I could advance you the sum you want,' said he, 'but I know that you
would not rest easy until you had paid me back, and I should not like
to bring fresh troubles upon you. But there is another way of getting
out of your difficulty: you can win back your money.'
"'But, my dear Count,' replied my grandmother, 'I tell you that I
haven't any money left!'
"'Money is not necessary,' replied St. Germain, 'be pleased to listen
to me.'
"Then he revealed to her a secret, for which each of us would give a
good deal."
The young officers listened with increased attention. Tomsky lit his
pipe, puffed away for a moment, and then continued:
"That same evening my grandmother went to Versailles to the _jeu de la
reine_. The Duke of Orleans kept the bank; my grandmother excused
herself in an offhanded manner for not having yet paid her debt by
inventing some little story, and then began to play against him. She
chose three cards and played them one after the other; all three won
sonika,[1] and my grandmother recovered every farthing that she lost."
"Mere chance!" said one of the guests.
"A tale!" observed Hermann.
"Perhaps they were marked cards!" said a third.
"I do not think so," replied Tomsky, gravely.
"What!" said Naroumoff, "you have a grandmother who knows how to hit
upon three lucky cards in succession, and you have never yet succeeded
in getting the secret of it out of her?"
"That's the deuce of it!" replied Tomsky, "she had four sons, one of
whom was my father; all four were determined gamblers, and yet not to
one of them did she ever reveal her secret, although it would not have
been a bad thing either for them or for me. But this is what I heard
from my uncle, Count Ivan Hitch, and he assured me, on his honor, that
it was true. The late Chaplitsky--the same who died in poverty after
having squandered millions--once lost, in his youth, about three
hundred thousand roubles--to Zoritch, if I remember rightly. He was in
despair. My grandmother, who was always very severe upon the
extravagance of young men, took pity, however, upon Chaplitsky. She
gave him three cards telling him to play them one after the other, at
the same time exacting from him a solemn promise that he would never
play at cards again as long as he lived. Chaplitsky then went to his
victorious opponent, and they began a fresh game. On the first card he
staked fifty thousand roubles, and won sonika; he doubled the stake,
and won again; till at last, by pursuing the same tactics, he won back
more than he had lost."
"But it is time to go to bed, it is a quarter to six already." And,
indeed, it was already beginning to dawn; the young men emptied their
glasses and then took leave of each other.