Fyodor Dostoevsky - The Gambler

On the third floor, in their corridor, it was as if something nudged me. I turned and, twenty or more paces away, saw Polina coming out the door. She seemed to have been waiting and watching for me, and immediately beckoned to me.

“Polina Alexandrovna…”

“Quiet!” she warned.

“Imagine,” I whispered, “it’s as if something just nudged me in the side; I turn around—it’s you! As if you give off some kind of electricity!”

“Take this letter,” Polina said with a preoccupied and frowning air, probably without hearing what I had just said, “and deliver it personally to Mr. Astley right away. Be quick, I beg you. No reply is needed. He himself…”

She didn’t finish. “To Mr. Astley?” I repeated in astonishment.

But Polina had already disappeared through the door.

“Aha, so they correspond!” Naturally, I ran at once to look for Mr. Astley, first in his hotel, where I didn’t find him, then in the vauxhall, where I ran around all the rooms, and finally, in vexation, almost in despair, on my way home, I met him by chance in a cavalcade of some English men and ladies, on horseback. I beckoned to him, stopped him, and gave him the letter. We had no time even to exchange glances. But I suspect that Mr. Astley deliberately hastened to urge his horse on.

Was I tormented by jealousy? I was indeed in the most broken state of mind. I didn’t even want to know what they corresponded about. So he was her confidant! “A friend he may be,” I thought, and that was clear (and when had he found time to become one?), “but is there love in it?” “Of course not,” reason whispered to me. But reason alone is not enough in such cases. In any case, this, too, was to be clarified. The business was becoming unpleasantly complicated.

I no sooner entered the hotel than the doorman and the manager, coming out of his room, informed me that I was being asked for, looked for, that three times there had been an inquiry about where I was, and a request that I go as quickly as possible to the general’s suite. I was in the nastiest state of mind. In the general’s study, besides the general himself, I found des Grieux and Mlle Blanche, alone, without her mother. The mother was decidedly a dummy personage, used only for display; when it came to real business , Mlle Blanche managed by herself. And the woman scarcely knew anything about her presumed daughter’s affairs.

The three of them were hotly conferring about something, and the door of the study was even shut, something that had never happened before. Approaching the door, I heard loud voices—the brazen and caustic talk of des Grieux, the impudently abusive and furious shouting of Blanche, and the pitiful voice of the general, who was apparently trying to justify himself for something. On my appearance, they all seemed to restrain themselves and put themselves to rights. Des Grieux put his hair to rights and made his angry face into a smiling one—with that nasty, officially courteous French smile I hate so much. The general, crushed and at a loss, assumed a dignified air, but somehow mechanically. Mlle Blanche alone made scarcely a change in her anger-flashing physiognomy and only fell silent, directing her gaze at me with impatient expectation. I will note that till then she had treated me with incredible negligence, had not even responded to my greetings—simply hadn’t noticed me.

“Alexei Ivanovich,” the general began in a gently upbraiding tone, “allow me to declare to you that it is strange, strange in the highest degree…in short, your behavior regarding me and my family…in short, strange in the highest degree…”

“ Eh! ce n’est pas ça, ” [41] Eh! it’s not that. des Grieux interrupted with vexation and contempt. (He decidedly had the upper hand in everything!) “ Mon cher monsieur, notre cher général se trompe [42] My dear sir, our dear general is mistaken… when he lapses into this tone” (I continue his speech in Russian), “but he wanted to tell you…that is, to warn you, or, better to say, to earnestly beg you not to ruin him—oh, yes, not to ruin! I am using precisely this expression…”

“But how, how?” I interrupted.

“Good heavens, you’ve undertaken to be the guide (or how do they say?) of this old woman, cette pauvre terrible vieille ,” des Grieux himself became confused, “but she will lose; she will lose her shirt and everything! You’ve seen yourself, you’ve witnessed the way she plays! If she begins to lose, she won’t leave the table, out of stubbornness, out of anger, and she’ll keep on playing, keep on playing, and in such cases one can win nothing back, and then…then…”

“And then,” the general picked up, “then you will ruin the entire family! Me and my family, we’re her heirs, she has no closer relations. I’ll tell you frankly: my affairs are in disarray, extreme disarray. You partly know yourself…If she loses a considerable sum, or even perhaps the whole fortune (oh, God!), what will become of them then, of my children!” (the general turned to des Grieux) “of me!” (He looked at Mlle Blanche, who turned away from him with contempt.) “Alexei Ivanovich, save us, save us!…”

“But how, General, tell me, how can I…What do I amount to here?”

“Refuse, refuse, drop her!…”

“Then she’ll find somebody else!” I cried.

“ Ce n’est pas ça, ce n’est pas ça ,” des Grieux interrupted again, “ que diable! No, don’t drop her, but at any rate exhort her, talk to her, distract her…Well, finally, don’t let her lose too much, distract her somehow.”

“But how can I do that? If you were to take it upon yourself, M. des Grieux,” I added as naïvely as I could.

Here I noticed the quick, fiery, questioning glance Mlle Blanche gave des Grieux. In des Grieux’s own face something peculiar flashed, something frank, which he was unable to hold back.

“That’s just it, that she won’t take me now!” des Grieux cried, waving his hand. “If only!…later…”

Des Grieux glanced quickly and significantly at Mlle Blanche.

“ Oh, mon cher Monsieur Alexis, soyez si bon, ” [43] Oh, my dear Monsieur Alexis, be so good. Mlle Blanche herself stepped towards me with an enchanting smile, seized me by both hands, and pressed them firmly. Damn it all, that devilish face knew how to change in a single second! She instantly acquired such a pleading face, so sweet, childishly smiling, and even mischievous; at the end of the phrase she gave me a sly wink, in secret from everyone; did she mean to undercut me all at once, or what? And it didn’t come off badly—only it was crude, terribly crude.

The general jumped up after her—precisely jumped:

“Alexei Ivanovich, forgive me for speaking to you like that earlier, I meant to say something else…I beg you, I implore you, I bow down before you Russian-style—you, you alone can save us! Mlle de Cominges and I implore you—you understand? you do understand?” he implored, indicating Mlle Blanche to me with his eyes. He was very pitiful.

At that moment there came three quiet and respectful knocks at the door; they opened—the floorboy had knocked, and a few steps behind him stood Potapych. The ambassadors were from grandmother. There was a request to find me and deliver me immediately—“she being angry,” Potapych informed me.

“But it’s still only half-past three!”

“She couldn’t sleep, kept tossing, then suddenly got up, demanded her chair, and sent for you. She’s already on the porch, sir…”

“ Quelle mégère! ” [44] What a shrew! cried des Grieux.

Indeed, I found grandmother already on the porch, losing patience over my absence. She couldn’t wait till four o’clock.