wants is the original De Grieux—^that's what she wants! And the more she hates the present De Grieux the more she pines for the original one, though he existed only in her imagination. You are a sugar-boiler, Mr. Astley."
"Yes, I am a partner in the well-known firm. Level & Co."
"Well, you see, Mr. Astley, one one side—a sugax-boiler, and on the other—Apollo Belvedere; it is somewhat incongruous. And I am not even a sugar-boiler; I am simply a paltry gambler at roulette, and have even been a lackey, which I think Miss Polina knows very well, as I fancy she has good detectives."
"You are exasperated, and that is why you talk all this nonsense," Mr. Astley said coolly, after a moment's thought. "Besides, there is notiiing original in what you say."
"I admit that! But the awful thing is, my noble friend, that however stale, however hackneyed, however farcical my statements may be—^they are nevertiieless true! Anjnuray, you and I have made no way at all!"
"That's disgusting nonsense . . . because, because ... let me tell you!" Mr. Astley, with flashing eyes, pronounced in a quivering voice, "let me tell you, you ungrateful, unwcothy, shallow and unhappy man, that I am come to Homburg expressly at her wish, to see you, to have a long and open conversation with you and to tell her everjdiiing—what you are feeling, thinking, hoping, and . . . what you remember!"
"Is it possible? Is it possible?" I cried, and tears rushed in streams from my eyes.
I could not restrain them. I believe it was the first time it happened in my life.
"Yes, unhappy man, she loved you, and I can tell you that, because you are—a lost man! What is more, if I were to tell you that she loves you to this day—^you would stay here just the samel Yes, you have destroyed yourself. You had some abilities, a lively disposition, and were not a bad fellow; you might have even been of service to your country, which is in such need of men, but—^you will remain here, and your life is over. I don't blame you. To my mind all Russians are lilce that, or disposed to be like that. If it is not roulette it is something similar. The exceptions are very rare. You are not the first who does not understand the meaning of work (I am not talking of your peasantry). Roulette is a game pre-eminently for the Russians. So far you've been honest and preferred serving as a lackey to stealing. . . . But I dread to think what may come in the future. Enough, good-bjre! No doubt you
are in want of money? Here are ten louis d'or from me. I won't give you more, for you'll gjimble it away in any case. Take it and good-bye 1 Take itl"
"No, Mr. Astley, after all you have said."
"Ta—ake it!" he cried. "I believe that you are still an honourable man, and I give it as a true friend gives to another friend. If I were sure that you would throw up gambling, leave Homburg and would return to your own countay, I would be ready to give you at once a thousand pounds to begin a new career. But I don't give you a thousand pounds: I give you only ten louis d'or just because a thousand pounds and ten louis d'or cire just the same to you now; it's all the same—^you'll gamble it away. Take it and good-bye."
"I will take it if you will let me embrace you at parting."
"Oh, with pleasure!"
We embraced with sincere feeUng, and Mr. Astley went away.
No, he is wrong! If I was crude and silly about Polina and De Grieux, he was crude and hasty about Russians. I say nothing of myself. However . . . however, all that is not the point for the time: that is all words, words, and words; deeds are what are wanted! Switzerland is the great thing now! To-morrow . . . Oh, if only it were possible to set off tomorrow! To begin anew, to rise again. I must show them. . . . Let Polina know that I still can be a man. I have only to . . . But now it's too late—^but to-morrow ... oh, I have a presentiment and it cannot fail to be! I have now fifteen louis d'or, and I have begun with fifteen gulden! If one begins carefully . . . and can I, can I be such a baby! Can I fail to understand that I am a lost man, but—can I not rise again! Yes! I have only for once in my life to be prudent and patient and—^that is all! I have only for once to show will power and in one hour I can transform my destiny! The great thing is will power. Only remember what happened to me seven months ago at Roulettenburg just before my final failure. Oh 1 it was a remarkable instance of determination: I had lost everything, then, everjTthing. ... I was going out of the Casino, I looked, there was still one gulden in my waistcoat pocket: "Then I shall have something for dinner," I thought. But after I had gone a htmdred paces I changed my mind and went back. I staked that gulden on manque (that time it was on manqtie), and there really is something peculiar in the feeling when, alone in a strange land, far from home and from friends, not knowing whether you will have anything to eat
that day— you stake your last gulden, your very last! I won, and twenty minutes later I went out of the Casino, having a hundred and seventy gulden in my pocket. That's a fact! That's what the last gulden can sometimes do! And what if I had lost heart then? What if I had not dared to risk it? ... To-morrow, to-morrow it will all be over 1
POOR PEOPLE
A NOVEL
Ah, these story tellersl If only they would write anything useful, pleasant, soothing, but they will unearth all sorts of hidden things! ... I would prohibit their writingi Why, it is beyond everything; you read .. . and you can't help t hinkin g—and then all sorts of foolishness comes into your head; I would really prohibit their writing; I would simply prohibit it altogether.
Prince V. F. Odobvsky.
April 8.
My precious Varvara Alexyevna,
I was happy yesterday, inunensely happy, impossibly happy! For once in your hfe, you obstinate person, you obeyed me. At eight o'clock in the evening I woke up (you know, Uttle mother, that I love a little nap of an hour or two when my work is over). I got out a candle, I got paper ready, was mending a pen when suddenly I chanced to raise my eyes —^upon my word it set my heart dancing! So you understood what I wanted, what was my heart's desire! I saw a tiny comer of your window-curtain twitched back and caught against the pot of balsams, just exactly as I hinted that day. TTien I fancied I caught a glimpse of your little face at the window, that you were looking at me from your little room, that you were thinking of me. And how vexed I was, my darling, that I could not make out your charming Uttle face distinctly! There was a time when we, too, could see clearly, dearie. It is poor fim being old, my own! Nowadays everything seems sort of spotty before my eyes; if one works a little in the evening, writes something, one's eyes are so red and tearful in the morning that one is really ashamed before strangers. In my imagination, though, your smile was beaming, my little angel, your kind friendly Uttle smile; and I had just the same sensation in my heart as when I kissed you, Varinka, do you remember, Uttle angel? Do you know, my darUng, I even fancied that you shook your little finger at me? Did you, you naughty girl? You must be sure to describe all that fully in your letter.
Come, what do you think of our little plan about your curtain, Varinka? It is delightful, isn't it? Whether I am
sitting at work, or lying down for a nap, or waking up, I know that you are thinking about me over liiere, you are remembering me and that you are well and cheerful. You drop the curtain—^it means "Good-bye, Makax Alexyevitch, it's bedtime!" You draw it up—"Good morning, Makar Alexyevitch, how have you slept or are you quite well, Makar Alexyevitch? As for me, thank God, I am well and aU right!" You see, my darling, what a clever idea; there is no need of letters! It's cunning, isn't it? And you know it was my idea. What do you say to me now, Varvara Alevyevna?