The Gambler

probably—Mlle Blanche. Yes, something decisive is coming for us.)

CHAPTER VII

THE NEXT MORNING I sent for the desk clerk and told him that my account should be kept separately. My room was not so expensive that I should get very frightened and leave the hotel. I had sixteen friedrichs d’or, and there…there, maybe, lay riches! Strange thing, I haven’t won yet, but I act, feel, and think like a rich man, and I can’t imagine myself otherwise.

I planned, despite the early hour, to go at once and see Mr. Astley at the Hotel d’Angleterre, very near us, when suddenly des Grieux came into my room. This had never happened before, and, on top of that, the gentleman and I had lately been in the most alienated and strained relations. He plainly did not conceal his contempt for me, even made an effort not to conceal it; while I—I had my own reasons not to favor him. In short, I hated him. His visit surprised me very much. I realized at once that something very special was brewing.

He came in very amiably and paid my room a compliment. Seeing that I had my hat in my hand, he inquired if I was really going for a walk so early. When he heard that I was going to see Mr. Astley on business, he reflected, understood, and his face acquired an extremely preoccupied look.

Des Grieux was like all Frenchmen, that is, cheerful and amiable when it was necessary and profitable, and insufferably dull when the necessity to be cheerful and amiable ceased. A Frenchman is rarely amiable by nature; he is always amiable as if on command, out of calculation. If, for instance, he sees the necessity of being fantastic, original, out of the ordinary, then his fantasy, being most stupid and unnatural, assembles itself out of a priori accepted and long-trivialized forms. The natural Frenchman consists of a most philistine, petty, ordinary positiveness—in short, the dullest being in the world. In my opinion, only novices, and Russian young ladies in particular, are attracted to Frenchmen. Any decent being will at once notice and refuse to put up with this conventionalism of the pre-established forms of salon amiability, casualness, and gaiety.

“I’ve come to see you on business,” he began extremely independently, though, by the way, politely, “and I will not conceal that I’ve come as an ambassador or, better to say, a mediator from the general. Knowing Russian very poorly, I understood almost nothing yesterday; but the general explained it to me in detail, and I confess…”

“Listen, M. des Grieux,” I interrupted him, “here you’ve undertaken to be a mediator in this business as well. I am, of course, ‘un outchitel,’ and have never claimed the honor of being a close friend of this house or on any especially intimate relations, and therefore I do not know all the circumstances; but explain to me: can it be that you now fully belong to the members of this family? Because, finally, you take such interest in absolutely everything, you unfailingly become a mediator in it all straight away…”

He didn’t like my question. It was only too transparent for him, and he didn’t want to let anything slip.

“I am connected with the general partly by business, partly by certain special circumstances,” he said dryly. “The general has sent me to ask you to drop your intentions of yesterday. Everything you thought up was, of course, very clever; but he has precisely asked me to represent to you that it will be a total failure; moreover, the baron will not receive you, and, finally, in any case, he has every means of ridding himself of any further unpleasantness on your part. You’ll agree yourself. Why go on with it, tell me? The general has promised you that he will certainly take you back into his household at the first convenience, and until that time will credit you for your salary, vos appointements.[14] Rather profitable, is it not?”

I objected to him quite calmly that he was somewhat mistaken; that maybe I would not be chased out of the baron’s, but, on the contrary, be listened to; and I asked him to admit that he had probably come in order to worm out of me precisely how I was going to set about this whole business.

“Oh, God, since the general is so involved, he would certainly like to know what you are going to do and how! It’s so natural!”

I started to explain, and he began to listen, sprawling, cocking his head slightly towards me, with an obvious, unconcealed ironic nuance in his face. In general, he behaved with extreme haughtiness. I tried with all my might to pretend that I looked at the business from the most serious point of view. I explained that, since the baron had addressed a complaint against me to the general, as though I was the general’s servant, he had, first of all, deprived me thereby of my post, and, second, treated me as a person who is unable to answer for himself and is not worth talking to. Of course, I am justified in feeling myself offended; however, understanding the difference in age, of position in society, and so on, and so forth (I could barely keep from laughing at this point), I do not want to take another frivolity upon myself, that is, directly demand satisfaction from the baron, or even merely suggest it to him. Nevertheless, I consider myself perfectly within my rights in offering him, and especially the baroness, my apologies, the more so in that lately I have indeed been feeling unwell, upset, and, so to speak, fantastic, and so on, and so forth. However, by offensively addressing the general yesterday and insisting that the general deprive me of my post, the baron has put me in such a position that I can no longer offer him and the baroness my apologies, because he, and the baroness, and the whole world would probably think I am coming with my apologies out of fear, in order to get my post back. It follows from all this that I now find myself forced to ask the baron to apologize to me first, in the most moderate terms—for instance, by saying he had by no means wished to offend me. And once the baron speaks it out, then I, my hands now untied, will offer him my openhearted and sincere apologies. In short, I concluded, I ask only that the baron untie my hands.

“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 oublie votre nom, monsieur Alexis?…n’est-ce pas?”[15]

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

“Mais le general…”

“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 mere [16] …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 caractere prussien, vous savez, enfin il fera une querelle d’Allemand.”[17]

“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] 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!