The Gambler

by Fyodor Dostoevsky

  “Auntie…” the general began, all embarrassed, “I’m astonished, auntie…it seems that, even without anyone’s control, I can…what’s more, my expenses do not exceed my means, and here we…”

  “Don’t exceed your means? Come now! You must have robbed the children of their last penny—a fine guardian!”

  “After this, after such words…” the general began indignantly, “I really don’t know…”

  “He doesn’t know! I’ll bet you never leave the roulette tables here! Have you blown it all?”

  The general was so astounded that he almost spluttered from the rush of his agitated feelings.

  “Roulette! I? With my importance…I? You forget yourself, auntie, you must still be unwell…”

  “Lies, lies; I’ll bet they can’t drag you away; it’s all lies! I’m going to have a look at what this roulette is right today. You, Praskovya, tell me what there is to be seen here, and Alexei Ivanovich will show me, and you, Potapych, write down all the places to go. What’s there to see here?” she suddenly turned to Polina again.

  “There are the ruins of a castle nearby, then there’s the Schlangenberg.”

  “What is this Schlangenberg? A woods, or what?”

  “No, not a woods, it’s a mountain; there’s a point…”

  “What sort of point?”

  “The highest part of the mountain, an enclosed place. The view from there is magnificent.”

  “That means dragging the armchair up the mountain. Can it be done, or not?”

  “Oh, it should be possible to find porters,” I replied.

  At that moment, Fedosya, the nanny, came up to greet grandmother, bringing the general’s children.

  “Well, there’s no need for smooching! I don’t like to kiss children, they’re all snotty! How are you getting on here, Fedosya?”

  “It’s vur-ry, vur-ry nice here, Antonida Vassilyevna, ma’am,” Fedosya replied. “And how have you been, ma’am? We’ve been grieving over you so.”

  “I know, you’re a simple soul. What have you got here, all guests, or something?” she turned to Polina again. “This runty one in the spectacles?”

  “That’s Prince Nilsky, grandmother,” Polina whispered to her.

  “A Russian? And I thought he wouldn’t understand! Maybe he didn’t hear! I’ve already seen Mr. Astley. Here he is again,” grandmother caught sight of him again. “Hello!” she suddenly addressed him.

  Mr. Astley silently bowed to her.

  “Well, do you have something nice to say to me? Say something! Translate for him, Polina.”

  Polina translated.

  “That I am looking at you with great pleasure and rejoicing that you are in good health,” Mr. Astley replied gravely, but with great readiness. It was translated for grandmother, and she obviously liked it.

  “Englishmen always answer well,” she observed. “For some reason I’ve always liked Englishmen, no comparison with these little Frenchmen! Call on me,” she turned to Mr. Astley again. “I’ll try not to bother you too much. Translate it for him and tell him that I’m downstairs here, downstairs here—you hear, downstairs, downstairs,” she repeated to Mr. Astley, pointing down with her finger.

  Mr. Astley was extremely pleased with the invitation.

  Grandmother looked Polina over from head to foot with an attentive and satisfied gaze.

  “I could love you, Praskovya,” she said suddenly, “you’re a nice girl, better than all of them, but what a little character you’ve got—oof! Well, yes, I have my character, too; turn around; that’s not a hairpiece, is it?”

  “No, grandmother, it’s my own.”

  “Hm, I don’t like this stupid modern fashion. You’re a very pretty girl. I’d fall in love with you if I were a young man. How is it you don’t get married? However, it’s time I was off. I want to go outside, it’s been nothing but the train, the train…Well, what’s with you, still angry?” she turned to the general.

  “Come now, auntie, for pity’s sake!” the happy general roused himself. “I understand, at your age…”

  “Cette vieille est tombée en enfance,”[25] des Grieux whispered to me.

  “I want to have a look at everything here. Will you lend me Alexei Ivanovich?” grandmother continued to the general.

  “Oh, for as long as you like, but I myself…and Polina, and M. des Grieux…we’ll all consider it a pleasure to accompany you…”

  “Mais, madame, cela sera un plaisir,”[26] des Grieux popped up with a charming smile.

  “Hm, plaisir. I find you ridiculous, dearie. By the way, I won’t give you any money,” she suddenly added to the general. “Well, now to my suite: I must look the rooms over, and then we’ll set out for all those places. Well, lift me up.”

  Grandmother was lifted up again, and the whole crowd of us set out, following the armchair down the stairs. The general walked as if stunned by the blow of a bludgeon on the head. Des Grieux was mulling something over. Mlle Blanche made as if to stay, but then for some reason decided to go with everybody else. The prince at once set out after her, and only the German and Mme la veuve Cominges stayed upstairs in the general’s suite.

  CHAPTER X

  AT SPAS—AND, IT SEEMS, all over Europe—hotel administrators and managers, when assigning rooms to their guests, are guided not so much by their demands and wishes as by their own personal view of them; and, it must be noted, they are rarely mistaken. But grandmother, God knows why, was given such rich quarters that they even overdid it: four magnificently decorated rooms, with a bathroom, servants’ quarters, a special room for the maid, and so on, and so forth. Indeed, a week earlier some grande duchesse had stayed in these rooms, which fact, of course, was at once announced to the new guests, to raise the price of the suite. Grandmother was carried, or rather rolled, through all the rooms, and she examined them attentively and sternly. The manager, an older man with a bald head, respectfully accompanied her on this first inspection.

  I don’t know who they took grandmother for, but it seems they thought her an extremely important and, above all, a very rich personage. They at once entered in the register: “Madame la générale princesse de Tarassévitchev,” though grandmother had never been a princess. Her prestige probably began with her having her own servants, a separate compartment on the train, the endless number of unnecessary valises, suitcases, and even trunks that arrived with her; and the chair, grandmother’s brusque tone and voice, her eccentric questions, asked with a most unabashed air and brooking no objections, in short, grandmother’s whole figure—erect, brusque, imperious—rounded out the universal awe in which she was held. During the inspection, grandmother sometimes ordered them to stop the chair, pointed at some piece of furniture, and addressed unexpected questions to the respectfully smiling manager, who was already beginning to turn coward. Grandmother put her questions in French, which she spoke, however, quite poorly, so that I usually translated. The manager’s answers were for the most part not to her liking and seemed unsatisfactory. Besides, she somehow kept asking not about essentials, but about God knows what. For instance, she suddenly stopped before a painting—a rather weak copy of some famous original on a mythological subject.

  “Whose portrait is that?”

  The manager declared that it was probably some countess.

  “How is it you don’t know? You live here and you don’t know? What’s it doing here? Why is she cross-eyed?”

  The manager was unable to give satisfactory answers to all these questions and was even at a loss.

  “What a blockhead!” grandmother retorted in Russian.

  They carried her further on. The same story was repeated with a Saxony statuette, which grandmother inspected for a long time and then ordered to be removed, no one knew why. She finally badgered the manager about the cost of the bedroom carpets and where they had been made. The manager promised to find out.

  “What asses!” grandmother grumbled and turned all her attention to the bed.

  “Such
a magnificent canopy! Unmake it.”

  The bed was unmade.

  “Go on, go on, unmake it all. Take away the pillows, the pillowcases, lift up the feather bed.”

  Everything was turned upside down. Grandmother inspected it all attentively.

  “A good thing they don’t have bedbugs. Take off all the linen! Remake it with my linen and my pillows. Anyhow, it’s all much too magnificent, an old woman like me doesn’t need such a suite: I’ll be bored by myself. Alexei Ivanovich, come and see me often, when you’re done teaching the children.”

  “Since yesterday I no longer work for the general,” I replied, “and I’m living in the hotel completely on my own.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The other day a distinguished German baron and the baroness, his wife, came here from Berlin. Yesterday on the promenade I addressed him in German without keeping to the Berlin accent.”

  “Well, what of it?”

  “He considered it insolent and complained to the general, and the general dismissed me the same day.”

  “What, did you abuse him, this baron, or something? (Even if you did, it wouldn’t matter!)”

  “Oh, no. On the contrary, the baron raised his stick at me.”

  “And you, you dribbler, allowed your tutor to be treated that way,” she suddenly turned on the general, “and dismissed him from his post to boot! You’re dunderheads—you’re all dunderheads, I can see.”

  “Don’t worry, auntie,” the general replied with a slight tinge of haughty familiarity, “I know how to handle my own affairs. Besides, Alexei Ivanovich did not report it to you quite accurately.”

  “And you just let it pass?” she turned to me.

  “I wanted to challenge the baron to a duel,” I replied as modestly and calmly as I could, “but the general was against it.”

  “Why were you against it?” grandmother turned to the general again. “(And you may go, dearie, come back when you’re called,” she also turned to the manager, “no point in standing there gaping. I can’t stand his Nuremberg mug!)” The man bowed and left, without, of course, understanding grandmother’s compliment.

  “Good heavens, auntie, duels really aren’t possible,” the general answered with a smile.

  “Why aren’t they? Men are all cocks, so they ought to fight. You’re all dunderheads. I can see, you don’t know how to stand up for your country. Well, lift me up! Potapych, arrange it so that two porters are always ready, hire them and settle it. No need for more than two. They’ll only have to carry me on the stairs, but on the level, on the street, they can roll me—tell them that; and pay them in advance, they’ll be more respectful. You yourself must always be with me, and you, Alexei Ivanovich, show me this baron on the promenade: I’d at least like to see what sort of von baron he is. Well, so where’s this roulette?”

  I explained that the roulette tables were in rooms of the vauxhall. Then followed questions: how many are there? do many people play? Does it go on all day? How is it set up? I answered, finally, that it would be best of all to see it with her own eyes, and that it was quite difficult to describe it just like that.

  “Well, then carry me straight there! Lead the way, Alexei Ivanovich!”

  “Why, auntie, are you not even going to rest after the trip?” the general asked solicitously. He seemed to be in a bit of a flutter, and they were all somehow perplexed and began exchanging glances. They probably found it slightly ticklish, even shameful, to accompany grandmother straight to the vauxhall, where she, of course, was capable of committing all sorts of eccentricities, but now in public. However, they themselves had all volunteered to accompany her.

  “Why should I rest? I’m not tired; I’ve been sitting for five days as it is. And then we’ll go to look at what sort of springs and medicinal waters they’ve got and where they are. And then…what was it you said, Praskovya—a point, was it?”

  “A point, grandmother.”

  “Well, if it’s point, it’s point. And what else is there here?”

  “There are lots of things, grandmother,” Polina hesitated.

  “Eh, you don’t know yourself! Marfa, you’ll also come with me,” she said to her maid.

  “Why should she go, auntie?” the general suddenly began bustling. “And, finally, it’s forbidden; it’s unlikely Potapych will be allowed in the vauxhall either.”

  “Well, nonsense! Just because she’s a servant, I should abandon her! She’s also a human being; we’ve been riding the rails for a week now, she also wants to see things. Who will she go with, if not me? Alone she won’t dare peek outside.”

  “But, grandmother…”

  “What, are you ashamed to come with me? Stay home then, nobody’s inviting you. Look, what a general; I’m a general’s widow myself. And why indeed should I go dragging such a train behind me? I’ll look at everything with Alexei Ivanovich…”

  But des Grieux resolutely insisted that we all escort her, and produced the most amiable phrases about the pleasure of accompanying her and so on. We all set off.

  “Elle est tombée en enfance,” des Grieux kept saying to the general, “seule elle fera des bêtises…”[27] I didn’t hear any more, but he obviously had some sort of intentions, and maybe his hopes had even returned.

  It was about a quarter of a mile to the vauxhall. The way led us down the chestnut avenue to the green, beyond which one went straight into the vauxhall. The general calmed down a bit, because our procession, though eccentric enough, was nevertheless decorous and decent. And there was nothing surprising in the fact of an ailing person with paralyzed legs appearing at the spa. But the general was obviously afraid of the vauxhall: why should an ailing person with paralyzed legs, and an old woman at that, go to the roulette tables? Polina and Mlle Blanche walked on either side of her, beside the rolling chair. Mlle Blanche laughed, was modestly merry, and from time to time even played up quite amiably to grandmother, so that she finally praised her. Polina, on the other hand, was obliged to answer grandmother’s constant and innumerable questions, such as: “Who’s that man walking by? who’s that woman driving by? how big is the town? how big is the garden? What trees are those? What mountains are these? Are there eagles here? What’s that funny roof?” Mr. Astley was walking beside me and whispered to me that he expected much from this morning. Potapych and Marfa walked behind, just after the chair—Potapych in his tailcoat and white tie, but in a peaked cap, and Marfa, a forty-year-old maiden, red-cheeked but already beginning to go gray, in a bonnet, a cotton dress, and creaking kidskin shoes. Grandmother turned and spoke to them very often. Des Grieux and the general lagged behind a little and talked about something with great vehemence. The general was very downcast; des Grieux talked with a resolute air. Maybe he was trying to encourage the general; obviously he was giving him advice. But earlier grandmother had already uttered the fatal phrase: “I won’t give you any money.” This news may have seemed incredible to des Grieux, but the general knew his aunt. I noticed that des Grieux and Mlle Blanche continued to exchange winks. I caught sight of the prince and the German traveler at the very end of the avenue: they lagged behind and made off from us somewhere.

  We arrived at the vauxhall in triumph. The doorman and the attendants showed the same deference as the servants in the hotel. They looked at us, however, with curiosity. Grandmother first of all ordered them to carry her around all the rooms; some things she praised, to others she remained completely indifferent; about everything she asked questions. They finally reached the gaming rooms. The footman who was standing guard by the closed doors suddenly, as if in astonishment, flung them open.

  Grandmother’s appearance in the gambling hall made a deep impression on the public. There were maybe a hundred and fifty or two hundred players crowding in several rows around the roulette tables and at the other end of the room where the table for trente et quarante stood. Those who managed to push their way close to the table itself usually stood firm and did not relinquish their places until they lost eve
rything; for to stand there just as simple spectators and occupy a gambling place for nothing was not allowed. Though chairs are placed around the gaming table, few of the players sit down, especially if the public gathers in large numbers—because standing people can squeeze closer together and thus gain space, and it’s more convenient for placing stakes. The second and third rows crowded behind the first, waiting and keeping an eye out for their turn; but sometimes in impatience someone would thrust his arm through the first row to place his bet. Even from the third row people contrived to thrust their stakes through in this way; owing to which not ten or even five minutes would go by without some “story” over a disputed stake beginning at one end of the table or another. The vauxhall police, however, were rather good. Crowding, of course, cannot be avoided; on the contrary, the influx of the public is welcomed, because it’s profitable; but the eight croupiers who sit around the table keep a sharp eye on the betting, they do the reckoning as well, and they settle disputes whenever they arise. In extreme cases, the police are summoned, and the matter is ended in a few minutes. The police are stationed right there in the hall, in plain clothes, among the spectators, so they can’t be recognized. They watch out especially for pilferers and professional thieves, who are especially numerous at the roulette table, it being unusually suited to their profession. Indeed, elsewhere thefts are made from pockets or locked places—and that, in case of failure, can end very bothersomely. While here it’s quite simple, you need only go up to the table, start playing, then suddenly, openly and publicly, pick up somebody else’s winnings and put them in your pocket; if a dispute starts, the crook loudly and vociferously insists that the stake was his. If the thing is done deftly and the witnesses hesitate, the thief very often succeeds in awarding himself the money—if, of course, the sum is not very considerable. In the latter case, it would certainly have been noticed earlier by the croupiers or some of the other players. But if the sum is not so considerable, the real owner, wary of a scandal, sometimes even simply declines to prolong the dispute and walks away. But if a thief is exposed, he is at once removed with a scandal.