“Quatre! ” ‡58 cried the croupier. In all, including the former stake, I again had six thousand florins. I had the air of a conqueror, I feared nothing, nothing at all now, and I threw four thousand florins on black. Some nine people, following me, also rushed to stake on black. The croupiers exchanged glances and remarks. There was talk and anticipation around me.
It came up black. Here I no longer remember either my reckoning or the order of my stakes. I only remember, as in a dream, that it seems I won sixteen thousand florins; then, in three unlucky turns, I blew twelve of them; then I pushed the remaining four thousand onto passe (but almost feeling nothing as I did it; I only waited somehow mechanically, without thinking)—and won again; then I won four more times in a row. I remember only that I raked in money by the thousands; I also recall that the twelve middle numbers came up most often, and I attached myself to them. They appeared somehow regularly—three, four times in a row without fail—then disappeared a couple of times, then came back again three or four times in a row. This astonishing regularity sometimes occurs in spells—and it’s this that throws off the seasoned gamblers, who calculate with a pencil in their hands. And what a terrible mockery of fate sometimes happens here!
I think no more than half an hour had gone by since my arrival. Suddenly the croupier informed me that I had won thirty thousand florins, and since the bank could not answer for more at one time, it meant that the roulette would close till the next morning. I grabbed all my gold, poured it into my pockets, grabbed all the banknotes, and at once moved to another table, in another room, where there was another roulette; a whole crowd flocked after me; a place was cleared for me at once, and I began staking again, anyhow and without calculating. I have no idea what saved me!
Occasionally, however, calculation began to flash in my head. I would latch on to certain numbers and choices, but soon abandoned them and staked again almost unawares. I must have been very distracted; I remember that the croupiers corrected my play several times. I made bad mistakes. My temples were damp with sweat, and my hands shook. Little Poles ran up to me with their services, but I didn’t listen to anyone. My luck held out! Suddenly loud talk and laughter arose around me. “Bravo, bravo!” everyone cried, some even clapped their hands. I won thirty thousand florins here as well, breaking the bank, which was closed till the next day!
“Leave, leave,” someone’s voice whispered to me on my right. It was some Frankfurt Jew; he had been standing next to me all the while and, it seems, had occasionally helped me to play.
“For God’s sake, leave,” another voice whispered in my left ear. I glanced up fleetingly. It was a quite modestly and decently dressed lady of about thirty, with a sickly pale, weary face, but even now recalling her wonderful former beauty. At that moment I was stuffing my pockets with banknotes, which I just crumpled up, and gathering the gold that was left on the table. Seizing the last roll of fifty friedrichs d’or, I managed, quite unnoticed, to put it into the pale lady’s hand; I wanted terribly to do that then, and I remember her slender, thin fingers pressed my hand hard as a sign of warmest gratitude. All this took only a moment.
Having gathered up everything, I quickly went on to the trente et quarante.
Trente et quarante is where the aristocratic public sits. It’s not roulette, it’s cards. Here the bank is answerable for a hundred thousand thalers a time. The biggest stake is also four thousand florins. I was totally ignorant of the game, and among the stakes knew only red and black, which were here as well. I latched on to them. The whole vauxhall crowded around. I don’t remember whether I thought even once about Polina during that time. I felt some sort of insuperable pleasure then in grabbing and raking in banknotes, which were heaping up in front of me.
It actually seemed that fate was urging me on. This time, as if on purpose, a certain circumstance occurred, which, however, is repeated rather often in gambling. Luck attaches itself, for instance, to red, and doesn’t leave it for ten, even fifteen times in a row. I had heard two days earlier that, a week before, red had come up twenty-two times in a row; no one even remembered such a thing happening at roulette, and it was retold with amazement. Naturally, everyone abandoned red at once, and after ten times, for instance, almost no one dared to stake on it. But no experienced gambler would have staked on black then as opposed to red. An experienced gambler knows what this “whim of chance” means. For instance, it would seem that, after sixteen reds, the seventeenth is bound to be black. Novices fall upon it in crowds, doubling and tripling their stakes, and lose terribly.
But I, by some strange whim, noticing that red had come up seven times in a row, deliberately latched on to it. I’m convinced that it was half vanity; I wanted to astonish the spectators with an insane risk, and—oh, strange feeling—I distinctly remember that suddenly, indeed without any challenge to my vanity, I was overcome by a terrible thirst for risk. Maybe, having gone through so many sensations, my soul was not sated but only exacerbated by them, and demanded more sensations, ever stronger and stronger, to the point of utter exhaustion. And, I’m truly not lying, if the rules of the game had allowed me to stake fifty thousand florins at once, I would certainly have staked them. Around me they cried that it was insane, that red had already come up fourteen times!
“Monsieur a gagné déjà cent mille florins,” *59 someone’s voice said next to me.
I suddenly came to my senses. What? I had won a hundred thousand florins that evening! What did I need more for? I fell upon the banknotes, crumpled them into my pocket without counting, raked up all my gold, all the rolls, and ran out of the vauxhall. Around me everyone laughed as I passed through the rooms, looking at my bulging pockets and my uneven gait owing to the weight of the gold. I think it weighed over seventeen pounds. Several hands reached out to me; I gave money away by the handful, as much as I got hold of. Two Jews stopped me at the exit.
“You’re bold! You’re very bold!” they said to me. “But leave tomorrow morning without fail, otherwise you’ll lose it all…”
I didn’t listen to them. The avenue was so dark that I couldn’t see my own hand. It was about a quarter of a mile to the hotel. I had never been afraid of thieves or robbers, even when I was little; I didn’t think of them now either. However, I don’t remember what I thought about on the way; there were no thoughts. My only sensation was of some terrible pleasure—luck, victory, power—I don’t know how to express it. The image of Polina flashed before me as well; I remembered and was conscious that I was going to her, that I would presently be together with her and would be telling her, showing her…but I barely remembered what she had said to me earlier, and why I had gone, and all those recent sensations, which had been there an hour and a half ago, now seemed to me something long past, corrected, outdated—of which we would make no further mention, because now everything would start anew. Almost at the end of the avenue fear suddenly came upon me: “What if I’m murdered and robbed right now!” With each step, my fear redoubled. I nearly ran. Suddenly at the end of the avenue our hotel shone all at once, lit up by countless lights—thank God: home!
I ran up to my floor and quickly opened the door. Polina was there, sitting on my sofa in front of a lighted candle, her arms crossed. She looked at me in amazement, and I certainly was a strange sight at that moment. I stopped before her and began flinging my whole pile of money on the table.
CHAPTER XV
I REMEMBER SHE LOOKED terribly intently into my face, but without moving, without even changing her position.
“I won two hundred thousand francs,” I cried, flinging down my last roll. The enormous pile of banknotes and rolls of gold covered the whole table, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it; at moments I completely forgot about Polina. Now I’d begin putting all those heaps of banknotes in order, stacking them together, now I’d gather the gold into one common heap; then I’d abandon it all and begin pacing the room in quick strides, lapsing into thought; then I’d suddenly go up to the table and begin counting the money
again. Suddenly, as if coming to my senses, I rushed to the door and quickly locked it, turning the key twice. Then I stopped, pondering, before my little suitcase.
“Shouldn’t I put it in the suitcase till tomorrow?” I asked, suddenly turning to Polina, and I suddenly remembered about her. She went on sitting without stirring, in the same place, but was watching me intently. The expression on her face was somehow strange; I didn’t like that expression! I wouldn’t be mistaken if I said there was hatred in it.
I quickly went over to her.
“Polina, here’s twenty-five thousand florins—that’s fifty thousand francs, even more. Take it, fling it in his face tomorrow.”
She didn’t answer me.
“If you like, I’ll take it myself, early in the morning. Shall I?”
She suddenly began to laugh. She laughed for a long time.
I looked at her with astonishment and sorrowful feeling. This laughter was very much like her recent, frequent, mocking laughter at me, which always came at the time of my most passionate declarations. Finally, she stopped and frowned; she looked me over sternly from under her eyebrows.
“I won’t take your money,” she said contemptuously.
“How’s that? What’s wrong?” I cried. “Why, Polina?”
“I don’t take money for nothing.”
“I’m offering it to you as a friend; I’m offering you my life.”
She looked at me with a long, searching gaze, as if she wanted to pierce me through.
“You’re paying too much,” she said, smiling, “des Grieux’s mistress isn’t worth fifty thousand francs.”
“Polina, how can you speak to me like that!” I cried in reproach. “Am I des Grieux?”
“I hate you! Yes…yes!…I dislike you more than des Grieux,” she cried, suddenly flashing her eyes.
Here she suddenly covered her face with her hands and went into hysterics. I rushed to her.
I realized that something had happened to her in my absence. It was as if she was not at all in her right mind.
“Buy me! You want to? you want to? for fifty thousand francs, like des Grieux?” she burst out with convulsive sobs. I embraced her, kissed her hands, her feet, fell on my knees before her.
Her hysterics were passing. She put both hands on my shoulders and studied me intently. It seemed as if she wanted to read something in my face. She listened to me, but apparently without hearing what I said to her. Some sort of care and pensiveness appeared in her face. I feared for her; it decidedly seemed to me that her mind was becoming deranged. She would suddenly begin to draw me gently to her; a trustful smile would wander over her face; then she would suddenly push me away, and again start peering at me with a darkened look.
Suddenly she rushed to embrace me.
“You do love me, don’t you?” she said. “Why, you wanted…you wanted to fight with the baron over me!” And she suddenly burst out laughing—as if something funny and dear had suddenly flashed in her memory. She wept and laughed at the same time. Well, what was I to do? I was as if in a fever myself. I remember she began saying something to me, but I could understand almost nothing. It was some kind of raving, some kind of prattle—as if she wanted to tell me something quickly—raving interrupted now and then by the merriest laughter, which began to frighten me. “No, no, you’re a dear, a dear!” she repeated. “You’re my faithful one!” and she again put her hands on my shoulders, again peered at me and went on repeating: “You love me…love me…will you love me?” I couldn’t take my eyes off her; I had never yet seen her in these fits of tenderness and love; true, it was, of course, raving, but…noticing my passionate look, she would suddenly begin to smile slyly; for no reason at all she would start talking about Mr. Astley.
However, she mentioned Mr. Astley constantly (especially earlier, when she had tried to tell me something), but precisely what it was, I couldn’t grasp; it seemed she even laughed at him; she constantly repeated that he was waiting…and did I know that he was certainly standing under the window now? “Yes, yes, under the window—well, open it, look, look, he’s here, here!” She pushed me towards the window, but as soon as I made as if to go to it, she dissolved in laughter, and I stayed by her, and she rushed to embrace me.
“So we’re leaving? Aren’t we leaving tomorrow?” suddenly came anxiously to her head. “Well…”(and she fell to thinking), “well, will we catch up with grandmother, do you think? In Berlin, I think, we’ll catch up with her. What do you think she’ll say when we catch up with her and she sees us? And Mr. Astley?…Well, that one won’t jump off the Schlangenberg, do you think?” (She laughed loudly.) “Well, listen: do you know where he’s going next summer? He wants to go to the North Pole for scientific research, and he invited me to go with him, ha, ha, ha! He says that without the Europeans we Russians don’t know anything and can’t do anything…But he’s also kind! You know, he excuses the ‘general’; he says that Blanche…that passion—well, I don’t know, I don’t know,” she suddenly repeated as if wandering and at a loss. “Poor things, I’m so sorry for them and for grandmother…No, listen, listen, who are you to go killing des Grieux? And did you really and truly think you’d kill him? Oh, silly boy! Could you possibly think I’d let you fight with des Grieux? And you wouldn’t kill the baron either,” she added, suddenly bursting into laughter. “Oh, how ridiculous you were then with the baron; I watched the two of you from my bench; and how reluctant you were to go then, when I sent you. How I laughed then, how I laughed,” she added, laughing loudly.
And again she suddenly kissed me and embraced me, again she pressed her face to mine passionately and tenderly. I no longer thought or heard anything. My head was spinning…
I think it was about seven o’clock in the morning when I came to my senses; the sun was shining into the room. Polina was sitting next to me and looking around strangely, as if coming out of some darkness and collecting her memories. She also had only just woken up and gazed intently at the table and the money. My head was heavy and ached. I was about to take Polina’s hand; she suddenly pushed me away and jumped up from the sofa. The beginning day was overcast; it had rained before dawn. She went to the window, opened it, thrust out her head and chest, and, propping herself on her hands, her elbows resting on the windowsill, stayed that way for about three minutes, without turning to me or listening to what I was saying to her. With fear it came to my head: what will come now and how will it end? Suddenly she got up from the window, went over to the table, and, looking at me with an expression of boundless hatred, her lips trembling with anger, said to me:
“Well, now give me my fifty thousand francs!”
“Again, again, Polina!” I tried to begin.
“Or have you changed your mind? Ha, ha, ha! Maybe you’re sorry now?”
The twenty-five thousand florins, already counted out last night, were lying on the table. I took them and gave them to her.
“So it’s mine now? Is it? Is it?” she asked me spitefully, holding the money in her hands.
“But it has always been yours,” I said.
“Well, then, here’s your fifty thousand francs!” She swung and sent them flying at me. The wad struck me painfully in the face and scattered over the floor. Having done that, Polina ran out of the room.
I know, of course, she was not in her right mind at that moment, though I don’t understand this temporary madness. True, even now, a month later, she’s still unwell. What, however, was the cause of this condition and, above all, of this escapade? Injured pride? Despair over the fact that she had even ventured to come to me? Did I look to her as if I was glorying in my success and indeed, just like des Grieux, wanted to get rid of her by giving her fifty thousand francs? But that wasn’t so, I know it by my own conscience. I think that part of the blame here lay in her vanity: vanity prompted her not to believe me and to insult me, though all this may have presented itself to her quite vaguely. In that case, of course, I answered for des Grieux, and was to blame, maybe, without much bla
me. True, all this was only delirium; it’s also true that I knew she was delirious, and…paid no attention to that circumstance. Maybe now she can’t forgive me for it? Yes, but that’s now; but then, then? Her delirium and illness were not so strong that she totally forgot what she was doing when she came to me with des Grieux’s letter? So she knew what she was doing.
Carelessly, hastily, I stuffed all my paper money and my whole heap of gold into the bed, covered it, and left some ten minutes after Polina. I was sure she had run home, and wanted to get to their suite quietly and ask the nanny in the front room about the young lady’s health. What was my amazement when, meeting the nanny on the stairs, I learned that Polina had not returned home yet and that the nanny herself was coming to my room to fetch her.
“Just now,” I said to her, “she left me only just now, some ten minutes ago, where could she have gone?”
The nanny looked at me reproachfully.
And meanwhile a whole story had come out, which had already spread through the hotel. In the porter’s lodge and at the manager’s it was whispered that, at six o’clock in the morning, the Fräulein came running out of the hotel, in the rain, and ran off in the direction of the Hôtel d’Angleterre. From their words and hints, I noticed that they already knew she had spent the whole night in my room. However, there was already talk about the general’s whole family: it became known that the general had lost his mind the day before and wept for the whole hotel to hear. The talk also was that the grandmother who had come was his mother, who had appeared on purpose from Russia itself to forbid her son to marry Mlle de Cominges, and in case he disobeyed, to deprive him of his inheritance, and since he hadn’t obeyed, the countess, before his eyes, had deliberately lost all her money at roulette, so that there was nothing to leave him. “Diese Russen! ” *60 the manager repeated in indignation, shaking his head. Others laughed. The manager was making out the bill. Everybody already knew about my winning; Karl, my floorboy, was the first to congratulate me. But I couldn’t be bothered with them. I raced to the Hôtel d’Angleterre.
The Double and The Gambler Page 33
