one and just not recalling what he wanted to ask, he would again lapse into oblivion, until Blanche suddenly appeared, gay, frolicsome, dressed up, with her loud, ringing laughter. She would run to him, start pulling at him, and even kiss him—a favor, however, that she rarely bestowed on him. Once the general was so glad to see her that he even burst into tears—I even marveled at him.
As soon as he appeared at our place, Blanche at once began acting as his advocate before me. She even waxed eloquent. She reminded me that she had been unfaithful to the general because of me, that she had almost been his fiancee, had given him her word; that because of her he had abandoned his family, and that, finally, I worked for him and should be sensible of that, and—shame on me…I kept silent, and she rattled on terribly. Finally, I burst out laughing, and the matter ended there, that is, at first she thought I was a fool, but towards the end she arrived at the notion that I was a very good and agreeable man. In short, I had the luck, towards the end, decidedly to earn the full good favor of this worthy girl. (However, Blanche was in fact a most kind girl—only in her own way, of course; I didn’t appreciate her at first.) “You’re an intelligent and kind man,” she used to say to me towards the end, “and…and…it’s too bad you’re such a fool! You’ll never, never be rich!”
“Un vrai russe, un calmouk”[81] {18} —several times she sent me out to walk the general, just like a lackey with her greyhound. However, I also took him to the theater, and to the Bal Mabille, {19} and to restaurants. For this Blanche even supplied money, though the general had his own, and he liked very much to take out his wallet in front of people. Once I was almost obliged to use force to keep him from paying seven hundred francs for a brooch he had become enamored of in the Palais Royal{20} and wanted at all costs to give to Blanche. Well, what did she need a seven-hundred-franc brooch for? The general had no more than a thousand francs in all. I could never find out where he got it from. I suppose it was from Mr. Astley, the more so as he had paid their hotel bill. As for the way the general looked at me all the while, it seems to me that he never even suspected my relations with Blanche. Though he had heard somehow vaguely that I had won a fortune, he probably supposed I was some sort of private secretary to Blanche, or maybe even a servant. At any rate he always spoke to me condescendingly, as before, like a superior, and occasionally even began to upbraid me. Once he made Blanche and me laugh terribly, at our place, over morning coffee. He was not at all quick to take offense; but here he suddenly took offense at me—for what, I still don’t understand. But, of course, he didn’t understand himself. In short, he started talking without beginning or end, a batons rompus,[82] shouted that I was a mere boy, that he would teach me…that he would make me understand…and so on, and so forth. But no one could understand anything. Blanche rocked with laughter; finally we somehow managed to calm him down and took him for a walk. I noticed many times, however, that he felt sad, was sorry for someone or something, missed someone, even despite Blanche’s presence. In those moments, he started talking with me himself a couple of times, but never could explain anything sensibly, recalled his service, his late wife, his management, his estate. He would latch on to some word—and rejoice, and repeat it a hundred times a day, though it didn’t express his feelings or his thoughts at all. I tried to speak with him about his children; but he would get off with his former patter and quickly pass on to another subject: “Yes, yes! the children, the children, you’re right, the children!” Only once did he wax emotional— he and I were going to the theater: “They’re unfortunate children,” he suddenly began, “yes, sir, yes, they’re un- for-tunate children!” And several times later that evening he repeated the words: “Unfortunate children!” When I began talking once about Polina, he even flew into a rage. “She’s an ungrateful woman,” he exclaimed, “she’s wicked and ungrateful! She has disgraced our family! If we had laws here, I’d have tied her in knots! Yes, sir, yes, sir!” As far as des Grieux was concerned, he couldn’t even hear his name. “He has ruined me,” he said, “he has robbed me, he has killed me! He was my nightmare for two whole years! For whole months in a row I saw him in my dreams! He…he…Oh, never speak to me of him!”
I saw that things were coming along between them, but kept silent as usual. Blanche was the first to announce it to me: this was exactly a week before we parted. “Il a de la chance,”[83] she rattled out to me, “babouchka is really sick now and will certainly die. Mr. Astley sent a telegram. You must admit that he is her heir after all. And even if he’s not, he won’t hinder anything. First, he has his pension, and second, he’ll live in the side room and be perfectly happy. I’ll be ‘madame la generale.’ I’ll get into a good circle” (Blanche constantly dreamed of that), “later on I’ll become a Russian landowner, j’auraiunchateau, des moujiks, et puis j’aurai toujours mon million.”[84]
“Well, but if he begins to get jealous, demands…God knows what—you understand?”
“Oh, no, non, non, non! he won’t dare! I’ve taken measures, don’t worry. I’ve already made him sign several promissory notes in Albert’s name. One slip—and he’ll be punished at once; but he won’t dare!”
“Well, so marry him…”
The wedding was quiet and familial, with no great pomp. Among those invited were Albert and a few close acquaintances. Hortense, Cleopatre, and the rest were decidedly excluded. The groom was exceedingly concerned with his position. Blanche herself tied his necktie, pomaded him, and in his tailcoat and white waistcoat he looked tres comme il faut.
“Il est pourtant tres comme il faut,’[85] Blanche herself announced to me, coming out of the general’s room, as if the idea that the general was tres comme il faut struck even her. I entered so little into the details, taking part in it all in the capacity of such a lazy spectator, that I’ve forgotten much that went on. I only remember that Blanche turned out not to be de Cominges at all, just as her mother was not la veuve Cominges at all, but du Placet. Why they were both de Cominges up to then, I don’t know. But the general remained pleased with that as well, and liked du Placet even more than de Cominges. The morning of the wedding, already fully dressed, he kept pacing the reception room, repeating to himself with an extremely grave and important air: “Mlle Blanche du Placet! Blanche du Placet! Du Placet! Miss Blanca du Placet!…” And a certain self-satisfaction shone in his face. In church, at the mayor’s, and at home over the hors d’oeuvres, he was not only joyful and content, but even proud. Something happened with the two of them. Blanche also acquired an air of some special dignity.
“I must behave quite differently now,” she said to me with extreme seriousness, “mais vois- tu, I haven’t thought about this one nasty thing: imagine, I still can’t learn my new last name: Zagoryansky, Zagoziansky, madame la generale de Sago-Sago, ces diables des noms russe, enfin madame la generale a quatorze consonnes! Comme c’est agreable, n’est-ce pas?”[86]
Finally we parted, and Blanche, that silly Blanche, even became tearful, saying good-bye to me. “Tu etais bon enfant,” she said, snuffling. “Je te croyais bete et tu en avais l’air,[87] but it suits you.” And, already pressing my hand for the last time, she suddenly exclaimed: “Attends! ”, rushed to her boudoir and a moment later brought me out two thousand-franc banknotes. I would never have believed it! “This may come in handy. You may be a very learned outchitel, but you’re a very stupid man. I won’t give you more than two thousand, because you’ll gamble it away in any case. Well, good-bye! Nous serons toujours bons amis, and if you win again, be sure to come to me, et tu seras heureux! ”[88]
I still have about five hundred francs left; besides, I have a magnificent watch worth a thousand francs, diamond cuff links and the like, so I may still last a rather long time without worrying about anything. I’ve purposely lodged myself in this little town in order to pull myself together, but I’m mainly waiting for Mr. Astley. I’ve learned for certain that he’ll be passing through and will stop here for a day on business. I’ll find out about everything…and then—then go straight to Homburg. I won’t go to Roulettenburg, or not until next year. Indeed, they say it bodes ill to try your luck twice in a row at one and the same table, and Homburg is also where the real gambling is.
