Fyodor Dostoevsky - The Gambler

“Fie, such scrupulousness and such subtleties! And why should you apologize? Well, you will agree, Monsieur…Monsieur… that you are starting it all on purpose to vex the general…or perhaps you have some sort of special goals… mon cher monsieur, pardon, j’ai oublié votre nom, monsieur Alexis?…n’est-ce pas? ” [15] My dear monsieur, forgive me, I’ve forgotten your name, monsieur Alexis?…isn’t it?

“Excuse me, mon cher marquis , but what business is that of yours?”

“ Mais le général… ”

“And what is it to the general? He said something yesterday about having to keep himself on some sort of footing…and he was so alarmed…but I understood nothing.”

“Here there is…here precisely there exists a special circumstance,” des Grieux picked up in a pleading tone, in which more and more vexation could be heard. “Do you know Mlle de Cominges?”

“You mean Mlle Blanche?”

“Well, yes, Mlle Blanche de Cominges… et madame sa mère [16] Madame her mother. …you must agree, the general…in short, the general is in love and even…the marriage may even take place here. And, imagine, at the same time various scandals, stories…”

“I don’t see any scandals or stories here that have anything to do with his marriage.”

“But le baron est si irascible, un caractère prussien, vous savez, enfin il fera une querelle d’Allemand .” [17] The baron is so irascible, a Prussian character, you know, he will finally make a German-style quarrel.

“It will be with me, then, not with you, since I no longer belong to the household…” (I deliberately tried to be as muddle-headed as possible.) “But, excuse me, so it’s decided that Mlle Blanche will marry the general? What are they waiting for? I mean to say—why conceal it, at any rate from us, the household?”

“I cannot tell you…however, it is still not entirely…though…you know, they are waiting for news from Russia; the general must arrange his affairs…”

“Aha! la baboulinka !”

Des Grieux looked at me with hatred.

“In short,” he interrupted, “I fully trust in your innate courtesy, your intelligence, your tact…you will, of course, do it for the family, in which you were like their own, were loved, respected…”

“Good God, I’ve been thrown out! You insist now that it was for the sake of appearances; but you must agree that if you say: ‘Of course, I don’t want to box your ears, but for the sake of appearances allow me to box your ears…’ Well, isn’t it almost the same?”

“If so, if no entreaties have any influence on you,” he began sternly and presumptuously, “then allow me to assure you that measures will be taken. There are authorities here, you will be sent away today— que diable! un blanc-bec comme vous [18] Devil take it! a greenhorn like you… wants to challenge a person like the baron to a duel! And you think you will be left alone? And, believe me, nobody here is afraid of you! If I asked, it was more on my own behalf, because you have troubled the general. And can you, can you possibly think that the baron will not simply ask a footman to throw you out?”

“But I won’t go myself,” I replied with extraordinary calm, “you’re mistaken, M. des Grieux, it will all work out with much greater decency than you think. I will now go to Mr. Astley and ask him to be my mediator, in short, to be my second. The man likes me and certainly will not refuse me. He will go to the baron, and the baron will receive him. If I myself am un outchitel and seem something of a subalterne , well, and, finally, without protection, Mr. Astley is the nephew of a lord, a real lord, that is known to everyone, Lord Pibroch, and that lord is here. Believe me, the baron will be polite to Mr. Astley and hear him out. And if he doesn’t, Mr. Astley will count it as a personal insult (you know how tenacious Englishmen are) and send a friend to the baron on his own behalf, and he has good friends. Consider now that things may not come out quite the way you reckon.”

The Frenchman was decidedly scared; indeed, it all very much resembled the truth, and consequently it appeared that I really was capable of starting a whole story.

“But I beg you,” he began in a thoroughly pleading voice, “drop it all! It is as if you are pleased that a whole story will come of it! It is not satisfaction you want, but a story! I told you, it will come out amusing and even clever—which is maybe what you are after—but, in short,” he concluded, seeing that I had stood up and was taking my hat, “I have come to convey to you these few words from a certain person. Read them. I was told to wait for an answer.”

So saying, he took from his pocket a little note, folded and sealed with wax, and handed it to me.

It was written in Polina’s hand:

I have the impression that you intend to go on with this story. You’re angry and are beginning to behave like a schoolboy. But there are certain special circumstances here, and later maybe I will explain them to you; so please stop it and calm yourself. How stupid this all is! I have need of you, and you have promised to obey. Remember the Schlangenberg. I beg you to be obedient, and, if need be, I order it.

Your P.

P.S. If you are angry with me about yesterday, forgive me.

Everything seemed to turn upside down as I read these lines. My lips went white, and I began to tremble. The cursed Frenchman looked on with an exaggeratedly modest air and averted his eyes from me, as if in order not to see my confusion. It would have been better if he had burst out laughing at me.

“Very well,” I said, “tell mademoiselle not to worry. Allow me, however, to ask you,” I added sharply, “why you took so long to give me this note? Instead of talking about trifles, it seems to me, you ought to have begun with it…since you came precisely on that errand.”

“Oh, I wanted…generally this is all so strange that you must pardon my natural impatience. I wanted the sooner to learn your intentions for myself, from you personally. However, I do not know what is in this note, and thought I would always have time to give it to you.”

“I see, you were simply told to give it to me as a last resort, and not to give it if you could settle it verbally. Right? Talk straight, M. des Grieux!”

“ Peut-être ,” [19] Perhaps. he said, assuming an air of some special restraint and giving me some sort of special look.

I took my hat; he inclined his head and left. I fancied there was a mocking smile on his lips. And how could it be otherwise?

“We’ll settle accounts, Frenchy, we’ll measure forces!” I muttered, going down the stairs. I still couldn’t grasp anything, as if I’d been hit on the head. The fresh air revived me a little.

After a couple of minutes, when I just began to grasp things clearly, two thoughts distinctly presented themselves to me: first , that from such trifles, from a few prankish, improbable threats from a mere boy, uttered the day before in passing, such a general alarm had arisen! and the second thought—what influence, anyhow, does this Frenchman have on Polina? One word from him, and she does everything he wants, writes a note, and even begs me. Of course, their relations had always been an enigma to me from the very beginning, ever since I got to know them; however, in these last few days I’d noticed in her a decided loathing and even contempt for him, while he didn’t even look at her, was even simply impolite to her. I’d noticed that. Polina herself spoke to me of her loathing; extremely significant confessions have burst from her…That means he’s simply got her in his power, he keeps her in some sort of chains…