Fyodor Dostoevsky - The Gambler

“Call Praskovya,” grandmother told Marfa.

Five minutes later Marfa returned with Polina. All this time Polina had been sitting in her room with the children and, it seems, had purposely decided not to go out all day. Her face was serious, sad, and preoccupied.

“Praskovya,” grandmother began, “is it true, what I learned from someone today, that your fool of a stepfather supposedly wants to marry that silly French fidget—an actress, isn’t she, or something still worse? Tell me, is it true?”

“I don’t know for certain, grandmother,” Polina answered, “but from the words of Mlle Blanche herself, who finds concealment unnecessary, I conclude…”

“Enough!” grandmother interrupted energetically, “I understand everything! I always reckoned he was up to just that, and always considered him the emptiest and flightiest of men. He goes around swaggering that he’s a general (he got the rank after he retired as a colonel), and putting on airs. I know it all, my dear, how you sent telegram after telegram to Moscow—‘Will the old crone turn her toes up soon?’ They were waiting for the inheritance; without money, that mean wench—what’s her name?—de Cominges or something, wouldn’t even take him as a lackey, with false teeth at that. They say she has heaps of money herself, lends it on interest, having earned it in a nice way. I don’t blame you, Praskovya; it wasn’t you who sent the telegrams; nor do I want to remember old wrongs. I know what a nasty character you’ve got—a wasp! it swells when you sting, but I feel sorry for you, because I loved your late mother Katerina. Well, do you want to drop all this here and come with me? You’ve got nowhere to go; and it’s improper for you to be with them now. Wait!” grandmother interrupted Polina, who was about to begin a reply, “I haven’t finished yet. I won’t demand anything of you. My house in Moscow you know—it’s a palace, you can have a whole floor and not come down to see me for weeks, if you don’t fancy my character. Well, do you want to or not?”

“Allow me to ask you first: do you really mean to leave right now?”

“Do you think I’m joking, dearie? I said I’d leave, and I’ll leave. I’ve dumped fifteen thousand roubles today at your thrice-cursed roulette. Five years ago I promised to replace the wooden church on my estate near Moscow with a stone one, and instead I whistled it away here. Now, dearie, I’m going to go and build that church.”

“And the waters, grandmother? Haven’t you come to take the waters?”

“Eh, you and your waters! Don’t vex me, Praskovya; are you doing it on purpose, or what? Tell me, will you come along?”

“I thank you very, very much, grandmother,” Polina began with feeling, “for the refuge you’re offering me. You’ve partly guessed my situation. I’m so grateful that, believe me, I may even come to you soon; but now there are reasons…important ones…and I can’t decide at once, this minute. If you were staying two weeks…”

“You mean you don’t want to?”

“I mean I can’t. Besides, in any case I can’t leave my brother and sister, and since…since…since they may indeed be all but abandoned, then…if you’ll take me with the little ones, grandmother, I’ll certainly come to you, and, believe me, I’ll come to deserve it of you,” she added warmly, “but without the children I can’t, grandmother.”

“Well, don’t snivel!” (Polina had never thought of sniveling, and she never cried.) “There’ll be room for the chicks as well; it’s a big chicken coop. Besides, it’s time they went to school. Well, so you’re not coming now? Well, Praskovya, watch out! I’d like to wish you well, but I know why you’re not coming. I know everything, Praskovya! That little Frenchman won’t bring you any good.”

Polina flushed. I gave a start. (Everybody knows! I alone, therefore, know nothing!)

“Well, well, don’t frown. I won’t embroider on it. Only watch out that nothing bad happens, understand? You’re a smart girl; I’d be sorry for you. Well, enough, I don’t even want to look at you all! Go! Good-bye!”

“I’ll still come to see you off, grandmother,” said Polina.

“No need to; don’t bother me, I’m sick of you all.”

Polina kissed grandmother’s hand, but she pulled her hand away and kissed Polina on the cheek.

As she passed me, Polina glanced at me quickly and at once turned away.

“Well, good-bye to you, too, Alexei Ivanovich! It’s only an hour till the train. And you’re tired of me, I think. Here, take these fifty gold pieces.”

“I humbly thank you, grandmother, I’m ashamed to…”

“Well, well!” cried grandmother, but so energetically and menacingly that I didn’t dare refuse and accepted.

“In Moscow, when you’re running around without a job, come to me; I’ll recommend you to someone. Well, out with you!”

I went to my room and lay down on the bed. I think I lay for half an hour on my back, my hands thrust behind my head. The catastrophe had broken out, there was something to think about. I decided imperatively to talk with Polina tomorrow. Ah! the little Frenchman? So then it’s true! What could there be to it, though? Polina and des Grieux! Lord, what a juxtaposition!

All this was simply unbelievable. I suddenly jumped up, beside myself, to go looking for Mr. Astley at once and make him speak at all costs. Here, too, of course, he knows more than I do. Mr. Astley? There’s another riddle for me!

But suddenly there came a knock at my door. I looked—Potapych.

“Alexei Ivanovich, my dear: the mistress, she’s calling.”

“What is it? Is she leaving or something? It’s still twenty minutes till the train.”

“She’s restless, my dear, can barely sit still. ‘Quick, quick!’—meaning you, my dear; for Christ’s sake, don’t delay.”

I raced downstairs at once. Grandmother had already been rolled out to the corridor. She had the wallet in her hands.

“Alexei Ivanovich, lead the way, come on!…”

“Where to, grandmother?”

“It may kill me, but I’ll win back what I lost! Well, march, no questions! They play till midnight there, don’t they?”

I was dumbfounded, reflected, but made up my mind at once.

“As you will, Antonida Vassilyevna, but I won’t go.”

“Why not? What’s this now? Are you all moonstruck or something?”

“As you will, but afterwards I’d reproach myself; I don’t want to! I don’t want either to witness it or to participate in it; spare me, Antonida Vassilyevna. Here are your fifty friedrichs d’or back; good-bye!” And, placing the roll of friedrichs d’or right there on a little table next to grandmother’s chair, I bowed and left.

“What rubbish!” grandmother cried after me. “Don’t come then, if you please, I’ll find the way myself! Potapych, come with me! Well, pick me up, get going.”

I didn’t find Mr. Astley and went back home. Late, past midnight, I learned from Potapych how grandmother’s day had ended. She had lost everything I had exchanged for her earlier, that is, another ten thousand roubles, by our reckoning. That same little Pole to whom she had given two friedrichs d’or had attached himself to her and guided her play the whole time. First, before the little Pole, she had made Potapych stake for her, but soon chased him away; it was then that the little Pole popped up. As luck would have it, he understood Russian and could even chatter in a mixture of three languages, so that they somehow managed to understand each other. Grandmother scolded him mercilessly all the time, and though he constantly “laid himself out at my lady’s feet,” he was “no comparison with you, Alexei Ivanovich,” Potapych recounted. “She treated you as a gentleman , but that one—I saw it with my own eyes, God strike me dead—he stole from her right there at the table. She caught him twice and railed at him, my dear, railed at him with all sorts of words, and even pulled his hair once, really, I’m not lying, so that there was laughter all around. She lost everything, my dear; everything she had, everything you exchanged for her. We brought her here, the dear lady—she just asked for a drink of water, crossed herself, and went to bed. Wore herself out, must be, fell asleep at once. May God send her angelic dreams! Ah, these foreign parts!” Potapych concluded. “I said no good would come of it. We ought to hurry back to our Moscow! We’ve got everything at home in Moscow. A garden, flowers such as don’t exist here, fragrance, apples ripening, vastness—no, she had to go abroad! Oh, oh, oh!…”