been in Baden, where I went as valet to the councillor Gintse, a scoundrel, who was my master here. Yes, I was a lackey for five whole months! I got a place immediately after coming out of prison. (I was sent to prison in Roulettenburg for a debt I made here.) Someone, I don't know who, paid my debt—who was it? Was it Mr. Astley? Pohna? I don't know, but the debt was paid; two hundred thalers in all, and I was set free. What could I do? I entered the service of this Gintse. He is a young man and frivolous, he Uked to be idle, and I could read and write in three languages. At first I went into his service as a sort of secretary at tiiirty guldens a month; but I ended by becoming a regular valet: he had not the means to keep a secretary; and he lowered my wages; I had nowhere to go, 1 remained—and in that way became a lackey by my own doing. I had not enough to eat or to drink in his service, but on the other hand, in five months I saved up seventy gulden. One evening in Baden, however, I aimounced to him that I intended parting from him; the same evening I went to roulette. Oh, how my heart beat! No, it was not money that I wanted. All tbat I wanted then was that next day all these Gintses, all these ober- kelhters, all these magnificent Baden ladies—that they might be all talking about me, repeating my story, wondering at me, admiring me, praising me, and doing homage to my new success. All these are childish dreams and desires, but . . . who knows, perhaps I should meet Polina again, too, I should tell her, and she would see that I was above all these stupid ups and downs of fate. . . . Oh, it was not money that was dear to me I I knew I should fling it away to some Blanche again and should drive in Paris again for three weeks with a pair of my own horses, costing sixteen thousand francs. I know for certain that I am not mean; I beUeve that I am not even a spendthrift— and yet with what a tremor, with what a thrill at my heart, I hear the croupier's cry: trente et tm. rouge, impair et passe.
or: quaire, noir, pair et manqi*e! With what avidity I look at the gambling table on which louis d'or, friedrichs d'or and thalers lie scattered: on the piles of gold when they are scattered from the croupier's shovel like glowing embers, or at the piles of silver a yard high that lie round the wheel. Even on my way to the gambling hall, as soon as I hear, two rooms away, the clink of the scattered money I cdmost go into convulsions.
Ohl that evening, when I took my seventy gulden to tlie gambling table, was remarkable too. I began witti ten gulden, staking them again on passe. I have a prejudice ia favour of passe. I lost. I had sixty gulden left in silver money; I thought a little and chose zero. I began staking five gulden at a time on zero; at the third turn the wheel stopped at zero; I almost died of joy when I received one hundred and seventy-five gulden; I had not been so delighted when I won a hundred thousand gulden. I immediately staked a hundred gulden on roi4>ge —^it won; the two hundred on rowg-e —it won; the whole of the four hundred on n-oir —^it won; the whole eight hundred on manque —^it won; altogether with what I had before it made one thousand seven hundred gulden—and that in less than five minutes! Yes, at moments like that one forgets all one's former failures 1 Why, I had gained this by risking more than life itself, I dared to risk it, and—there I was again, a man among men.
I took a room at the hotel, locked myself in and sat till three o'clock coimting over my money. In the morning I woke up, no longer a lackey. I determined the same day to go to Hom-burg: I had not been a lackey or been in prison Qiere. Half an hour before my train left, I set off to stake on two hazards, no more, and lost fifteen hundred florins. Yet I went to Hom-burg all the same, and I have been here for a month. . . .
I am living, of course, in continual anxiety. I play for the tiniest stakes, and I keep waiting for something, calculating, standing for whole days at the gambling table and watching the play; I even dream of playing—but I feel that in all this, I have, as it were, grown stiff and wooden, as though I had sunk into a muddy swamp. I gather this from my feeling when I met Mr. Astiey. We had not seen each other since that time, and we met by accident. This was how it happened: I was walking in the gardens and reckoning that now I was almost without money, but that I had fifty gulden—and that I had, moreover, three days before paid all I owed at the hotel. And so it was possible for me to go once more to roulette—^if I were to win an}rthing, I might be able to go on playing; if I lost I should have
to get a lackey's place again, if I did not come across Russians in want of a tutor. Absorbed in these thoughts, I went my daily walk, across the park and the forest in the adjoining prindpaJity.
Sometimes I used to walk Uke this for four hours at a time, and go back to Homburg hungry and tired. I had scarcely gone out of the gardens in the park, when suddenly J saw on one of the seats Mr. Astley. He saw me before I saw him, and called to me. I sat down beside him. Detecting in him a certain dignity of manner, I instantly moderated my delight; though I was awfully delighted to see him.
'And so you are here! I thought I should meet you,' he said to me. 'Don't trouble yourself to tell me your story; I know, I know all about it; I know every detail of your life during this last year and eight months.'
'Bah! What a watch you keep on your old friends!' 1 answered. 'It is very creditable in you not to forget. . . . Stay, though, you have given me an idea. Wcisn't it you bought me out of prison at Roulettenburg where I was imprisoned for debt for two hundred gulden? Some unknown person paid it for me.'
'No, oh no; it was not I who bought you out when you were ill prison at Roulettenburg for a debt of two hundred gulden. But I knew that you were imprisoned for a debt of two hundred gulden.'
'Then you know who did pay my debt?'
'Oh, no, I can't say that I know who bought you out.'
'Strange; I don't know any of our Russians; besides, the Russians here, I imagine, would not do it; at home in Russia the orthodox may buy out other orthodox Christians. I thought it must have been some eccentric Englishman who did it as a freak.'
Mr. Astley listened to me with some surprise. 1 believe he had expected to find me dejected and crushed.
'I am very glad, however, to find that you have quite maintained your independence of spirit and even your cheerfuhiess,' he pronounced, with a rather disagreeable air.
'That is, you are chafing inwardly with vexation at my not being crushed and humiliated,' I said, laughing.
He did not at once understand, but when he imderstood, he smiled.
'I like your observations: I recognise in those words my clever, enttiusiastic and, at the same time, cynical old friend; only Russians can combine in themselves so many opposites at
the same time. It is true, a man likes to see even his best friend humiliated; a great part of friendship rests on humiliation. But in the present case I assure you that I am genuinely glad that you are not dejected. Tell me, do you intend to give up gambling?'
'Oh, damn! I shall give it up at once as soon as I . . .' 'As soon as you have won back what you have lost! Just what I thought; you needn't say any more—I know—^you have spoken unawares, and so you have spoken the truth. Tell me, l^ve you any occupation except gambUng?' 'No, none. . . .'
He began cross-examining me. I knew nothing. I scarcely looked into the newspapers, and had literally not opened a single book all that time. '''
¦''''You've grown rusty,' he observed. 'You have not only given up life, all your interests, private and public, the duties lof a man and a citizen, your friends (and you really had friends) , i —^you have not only given up your objects, such as they were, all but gambling—^you have even given up your memories. I remember you at an intense and ardent moment of your life; but I am sure you have forgotten all the best feelings you had then; your dreams, your most genuine desires now do not rise i above pair, impmr, rouge, noir, the twelve middle numbers, 'and so on, I am sure!'
'Enough, Mr. Astley, please, please don't remind me,' 1 cried with vexation, almost with anger, 'let me tell you, I've forgotten absolutely nothing; but I've only for a time put everything out of my mind, even my memories, until I can make a radical improvement in my circvunstances; then . . . then you will see, I shall rise again from the dead!'
'You will be here still in ten years' time,' he said. 'I bet you I shall remind you of this on this very seat, if I'm alive.' 'Well, that's enough,' I interrupted impatiently; 'and to prove to you that I am not so forgetful of the past, let me ask: where is Miss Polina now? If it was not you who got me out of prison, it must have been her doing. I have had no news of her of any sort since that time.'
'No, oh no, I don't believe she did buy you out. She's in Switzerland now, and you'll do me a great favour if you leave off asking about Miss Polina,' he said resolutely, and even with some anger.
'That means that she has wounded you very much!' I laughed with displeasure.
'Miss Polina is of all people deserving of resp>ect the very best, but I repeat—you will do me a great favour if you cease questioning me concerning Miss Polina. You never knew her: and her name on your lips I regard as an insult to my moral feelings.'
'You don't say so! you are wrong, however; besides, what have I to talk to you about except that, tell me
