The Gambler
remarked it only too often—that, after listening to what I had to say,
and angering me almost beyond endurance, she loved suddenly to torture
me with some fresh outburst of contempt and aloofness! Yet she must
have known that I could not live without her. Three days had elapsed
since the affair with the Baron, and I could bear the severance no
longer. When, that afternoon, I met her near the Casino, my heart
almost made me faint, it beat so violently. She too could not live
without me, for had she not said that she had _need_ of me? Or had that
too been spoken in jest?
That she had a secret of some kind there could be no doubt. What she
had said to the Grandmother had stabbed me to the heart. On a thousand
occasions I had challenged her to be open with me, nor could she have
been ignorant that I was ready to give my very life for her. Yet always
she had kept me at a distance with that contemptuous air of hers; or
else she had demanded of me, in lieu of the life which I offered to lay
at her feet, such escapades as I had perpetrated with the Baron. Ah,
was it not torture to me, all this? For could it be that her whole
world was bound up with the Frenchman? What, too, about Mr. Astley? The
affair was inexplicable throughout. My God, what distress it caused me!
Arrived home, I, in a fit of frenzy, indited the following:
“Polina Alexandrovna, I can see that there is approaching us an
exposure which will involve you too. For the last time I ask of
you—have you, or have you not, any need of my life? If you have, then
make such dispositions as you wish, and I shall always be discoverable
in my room if required. If you have need of my life, write or send for
me.”
I sealed the letter, and dispatched it by the hand of a corridor
lacquey, with orders to hand it to the addressee in person. Though I
expected no answer, scarcely three minutes had elapsed before the
lacquey returned with “the compliments of a certain person.”
Next, about seven o’clock, I was sent for by the General. I found him
in his study, apparently preparing to go out again, for his hat and
stick were lying on the sofa. When I entered he was standing in the
middle of the room—his feet wide apart, and his head bent down. Also,
he appeared to be talking to himself. But as soon as ever he saw me at
the door he came towards me in such a curious manner that involuntarily
I retreated a step, and was for leaving the room; whereupon he seized
me by both hands, and, drawing me towards the sofa, and seating himself
thereon, he forced me to sit down on a chair opposite him. Then,
without letting go of my hands, he exclaimed with quivering lips and a
sparkle of tears on his eyelashes:
“Oh, Alexis Ivanovitch! Save me, save me! Have some mercy upon me!”
For a long time I could not make out what he meant, although he kept
talking and talking, and constantly repeating to himself, “Have mercy,
mercy!” At length, however, I divined that he was expecting me to give
him something in the nature of advice—or, rather, that, deserted by
every one, and overwhelmed with grief and apprehension, he had
bethought himself of my existence, and sent for me to relieve his
feelings by talking and talking and talking.
In fact, he was in such a confused and despondent state of mind that,
clasping his hands together, he actually went down upon his knees and
begged me to go to Mlle. Blanche, and beseech and advise her to return
to him, and to accept him in marriage.
“But, General,” I exclaimed, “possibly Mlle. Blanche has scarcely even
remarked my existence? What could _I_ do with her?”
It was in vain that I protested, for he could understand nothing that
was said to him, Next he started talking about the Grandmother, but
always in a disconnected sort of fashion—his one thought being to send
for the police.
“In Russia,” said he, suddenly boiling over with indignation, “or in
any well-ordered State where there exists a government, old women like
my mother are placed under proper guardianship. Yes, my good sir,” he
went on, relapsing into a scolding tone as he leapt to his feet and
started to pace the room, “do you not know this” (he seemed to be
addressing some imaginary auditor in the corner) “—do you not know
this, that in Russia old women like her are subjected to restraint, the
devil take them?” Again he threw himself down upon the sofa.
A minute later, though sobbing and almost breathless, he managed to
gasp out that Mlle. Blanche had refused to marry him, for the reason
that the Grandmother had turned up in place of a telegram, and it was
therefore clear that he had no inheritance to look for. Evidently, he
supposed that I had hitherto been in entire ignorance of all this.
Again, when I referred to De Griers, the General made a gesture of
despair. “He has gone away,” he said, “and everything which I possess
is mortgaged to him. I stand stripped to my skin. Even of the money
which you brought me from Paris, I know not if seven hundred francs be
left. Of course that sum will do to go on with, but, as regards the
future, I know nothing, I know nothing.”
“Then how will you pay your hotel bill?” I cried in consternation. “And
what shall you do afterwards?”
He looked at me vaguely, but it was clear that he had not
understood—perhaps had not even heard—my questions. Then I tried to get
him to speak of Polina and the children, but he only returned brief
answers of “Yes, yes,” and again started to maunder about the Prince,
and the likelihood of the latter marrying Mlle. Blanche. “What on earth
am I to do?” he concluded. “What on earth am I to do? Is this not
ingratitude? Is it not sheer ingratitude?” And he burst into tears.
Nothing could be done with such a man. Yet to leave him alone was
dangerous, for something might happen to him. I withdrew from his rooms
for a little while, but warned the nursemaid to keep an eye upon him,
as well as exchanged a word with the corridor lacquey (a very talkative
fellow), who likewise promised to remain on the look-out.
Hardly had I left the General, when Potapitch approached me with a
summons from the Grandmother. It was now eight o’clock, and she had
returned from the Casino after finally losing all that she possessed. I
found her sitting in her chair—much distressed and evidently fatigued.
Presently Martha brought her up a cup of tea and forced her to drink
it; yet, even then I could detect in the old lady’s tone and manner a
great change.
“Good evening, Alexis Ivanovitch,” she said slowly, with her head
drooping. “Pardon me for disturbing you again. Yes, you must pardon an
old, old woman like myself, for I have left behind me all that I
possess—nearly a hundred thousand roubles! You did quite right in
declining to come with me this evening. Now I am without money—without
a single groat. But I must not delay a moment; I must leave by the 9:30
train. I have sent for that English friend of yours, and am going to
beg of him three thousand francs for a week. Please try and persuade
him to think nothing of it, nor yet to refuse me, for I am still a rich
woman who possesses three villages and a couple of mansions. Yes, the
money shall be found, for I have not yet squandered _everything_. I
tell you this in order that he may have no doubts about—Ah, but here he
is! Clearly he is a good fellow.”
True enough, Astley had come hot-foot on receiving the Grandmother’s
appeal. Scarcely stopping even to reflect, and with scarcely a word, he
counted out the three thousand francs under a note of hand which she
duly signed. Then, his business done, he bowed, and lost no time in
taking his departure.
“You too leave me, Alexis Ivanovitch,” said the Grandmother. “All my
bones are aching, and I still have an hour in which to rest. Do not be
hard upon me, old fool that I am. Never again shall I blame young
people for being frivolous. I should think it wrong even to blame that
unhappy General of yours. Nevertheless, I do not mean to let him have
any of my money (which is all that he desires), for the reason that I
look upon him as a perfect blockhead, and consider myself, simpleton
though I be, at least wiser than _he_ is. How surely does God visit old
age, and punish it for its presumption! Well, good-bye. Martha, come
and lift me up.”
However, I had a mind to see the old lady off; and, moreover, I was in
an expectant frame of mind—somehow I kept thinking that _something_ was
going to happen; wherefore, I could not rest quietly in my room, but
stepped out into the corridor, and then into the Chestnut Avenue for a
few minutes’ stroll. My letter to Polina had been clear and firm, and
in the present crisis, I felt sure, would prove final. I had heard of
De Griers’ departure, and, however much Polina might reject me as a
_friend_, she might not reject me altogether as a _servant_. She would
need me to fetch and carry for her, and I was ready to do so. How could
it have been otherwise?
Towards the hour of the train’s departure I hastened to the station,
and put the Grandmother into her compartment—she and her party
occupying a reserved family saloon.
“Thanks for your disinterested assistance,” she said at parting. “Oh,
and please remind Prascovia of what I said to her last night. I expect
soon to see her.”
Then I returned home. As I was passing the door of the General’s suite,
I met the nursemaid, and inquired after her master. “There is nothing
new to report, sir,” she replied quietly. Nevertheless I decided to
enter, and was just doing so when I halted thunderstruck on the
threshold. For before me I beheld the General and Mlle.
Blanche—laughing gaily at one another!—while beside them, on the sofa,
there was seated her mother. Clearly the General was almost out of his
mind with joy, for he was talking all sorts of nonsense, and bubbling
over with a long-drawn, nervous laugh—a laugh which twisted his face
into innumerable wrinkles, and caused his eyes almost to disappear.
Afterwards I learnt from Mlle. Blanche herself that, after dismissing
the Prince and hearing of the General’s tears, she bethought her of
going to comfort the old man, and had just arrived for the purpose when
I entered. Fortunately, the poor General did not know that his fate had
been decided—that Mlle. had long ago packed her trunks in readiness for
the first morning train to Paris!
Hesitating a moment on the threshold I changed my mind as to entering,
and departed unnoticed. Ascending to my own room, and opening the door,
I perceived in the semi-darkness a figure seated on a chair in the
corner by the window. The figure did not rise when I entered, so I
approached it swiftly, peered at it closely, and felt my heart almost
stop beating. The figure was Polina!
XIV
The shock made me utter an exclamation.
“What is the matter? What is the matter?” she asked in a strange voice.
She was looking pale, and her eyes were dim.
“What is the matter?” I re-echoed. “Why, the fact that you are _here!_”
“If I am here, I have come with all that I have to bring,” she said.
“Such has always been my way, as you shall presently see. Please light
a candle.”
I did so; whereupon she rose, approached the table, and laid upon it an
open letter.
“Read it,” she added.
“It is De Griers’ handwriting!” I cried as I seized the document. My
hands were so tremulous that the lines on the pages danced before my
eyes. Although, at this distance of time, I have forgotten the exact
phraseology of the missive, I append, if not the precise words, at all
events the general sense.
“Mademoiselle,” the document ran, “certain untoward circumstances
compel me to depart in haste. Of course, you have of yourself remarked
that hitherto I have always refrained from having any final explanation
with you, for the reason that I could not well state the whole