that? Why, all our memories reaUy amount to that! Don't be uneasy, though; I don't want to know your private secret affairs. ... I am only, interested, so to say, in Miss Polina's external afiaiis. That you could tell me in a couple of words.'
'Certainly, on condition that with those two words all is over. Miss Polina was ill for a long time; she's ill even now. For some time she stayed with my mother and sister in the north of England. Six months ago, her grandmother—^you remember that madwoman?—died and left her, personally, a fortune of seven thousand pounds. At the present time Miss Polina is travelling with tiie family of my married sister. Her little brother and sister, too, were provided for by their grandmother's will, and are at school in London. The General, her stepfather, died a month ago in Paris of a stroke. Mile. Blanche treated him well, but succeeded in getting possession of all he received from the grandmother. ... I believe that's all.'
'And De Grieux? Is not he travelling in Switzerland, too?'
'No, De Grieux is not travelling in Switzerland: and I don't know where De Grieux is; besides, once for all, I wam you to avoid such insinuations and ungentlemanly coupUng of names, or you will certainly have to answer for it to me.'
'What! in spite of our friendly relations in the past?'
'Yes, in spite of our friendly relations in the past.'
'I beg a thousand pardons, Mr. Astley. But allow me, though: there is nothing insulting or ungentlemanly about it; I am not blaming Miss Polina for an5^ing. Besides—a Frenchman and a Russian yovmg lady, speaking generally—it's a combination, Mr. Astley, which is beyond your or my explaining or fully comprehending.'
'If you will not mention the name of De Grieux in company with another name, I should like you to explain what you mean by the expression of 'the Frenchman and the Russian young lady'. What do you mean by that 'combination'? Why the Frenchman exactly and why the Russian yovmg lady?'
'You see you are interested. But that's a long story, Mr. Astley. You need to understand many things first. But it
is an important question, however absurd it may seem at first sight, lie Frenchman, -Mr. Astley, is the product of a finished beautiful tradition. You, as a Briton, may not agree with this; I, as a Russian, do not either, from envy maybe; but our young ladies may be of a different opinion. You may think Racine artificial, affected and perfumed; probably you won't even read him. I, too, think him artificial, affected and perfumed—from one point of view even absurd; but he is charming, Mr. Astley, and, what is more, he is a great poet, whether we like it or not. The national type of Frenchman, or, rather, of Parisian, had been moulded into elegant forms while we were still bears. The Revolution inherited &e traditions of the aristocracy. Now even the vulgarest Frenchman has manners, modes of address, expressions and even thoughts, of perfectly elegant form, though his own initiative, his own soul and heart, have had no part in the creation of that form; it has all come to him through inheritance. Well, Mr. Astley, I must inform you now that there is not a creature on the eajfii more confiding, and more candid than a good, clean and not too sophisticated Russian girl. De Grieux, appearing in a peculiar role, masquerading, can conquer her heart with extraordinary ease; he has elegance of form, Mr. Astley, and the young lady takes this form for his individual soul, as the natural form of his soul and his heart, and not as an external garment, which has come to him by inheritance. Though it will greatly displease you, I must tell you that Englishmen are for the most part awkward and inelegant, and Russians are rather quick to detect beauty, and are eager for it. But to detect beauty of soul and originality of character needs incomparably more independence and freedom than is to be found in our women, above all in our yoimg ladies—and of course ever so much more experience. Miss Polina—^forgive me, the word is spoken and one can't take it back—needs a long, long time to bring herself to prefer you to the scoundrel De Grieux. She thinks highly of you, becomes your friend, opens all her heart to you; but yet the hateful scoundrel, the base and petty money-grubber, De Grieux, will still dominate her heart. Mere obstinacy and vanity, so to say, will maintain his supremacy, because at one time this De Grieux appeared to her with the halo of an elegant marquis, a disillusioned liberal, who is supposed to have ruined himself to help her family and her frivolous stepfather. All these shams have been discovered later on. But the fact that they have been discovered makes no difference: an}nvay, what she
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
