Granny's further exploits at roulette threw them into positive bewilderment and a sort of stupefaction seemed to have come over all of them.

Meanwhile this second fact was almost more important than the first; for though Granny had repeated twice that she would not give the General any money, yet, who knows?—^there was no need to give up all hope yet. De Grieux, who was involved in all the General's affairs, had not lost hope. I am convinced that Mile. Blanche, also much involved in the General's affairs (I should think so: to marry a General and with a considerable fortune!), would not ha^^ given up hope, and would have tried aU her fascinating arts upon Granny—^in contrast with the proud and incomprehensible Polina, who did not know how to curry favour with anyone. But now, now that Granny had had such success at roulette, now that Granny's personality had shown itself so clearly and so typically (a refractory and imperious old lady, et tmnbde en mfmnce), now, perhaps, all was lost. Why, she was as pleased as a child, so pleased that she would go on tiU she was ruined and had lost everj^thing. Heavens! I thought (and, God forgive me, with a malignant laugh), why, every friedrich d'or Granny staked just now must have been a fresh sore in the General's heart, must have maddened De Grieux and infuriated Mile, de Cominges, who saw the cup slipping from her lips. Another fact: even in her triumph and joy of winning, when Granny was giving money away to everyone, and taking every passer-by for a beggar, even then she had let fall to the General, "I'm not going to give you anything, though!" That meant that she had fastened upon that idea, was sticking to it, had made up her mind about it. There was danger! danger!

All these reflections were revolving in my mind as I mounted the front stairs from Granny's apartments to my garret in the very top storey. All this interested me strongly. Though, of course, I could before have divined the strongest leading motives prompting the actors before me, yet I did not know for certain all the m37steries and intrigues of tiie drama. Polina had never been fully open with me. Though it did happen at times that she revealed her feelings to me, yet I noticed that almost always after such confidences she would make fim of all she had said, or would try to obscure the matter and put it in a different light. Oh, she had hidden a great deal! In any case, I foresaw that the denouement of this mysterious and constrained position was at hand. One more shock—and everjrthing would

be ended and revealed. About my fortunes, which were also involved in aU this, I scarcely troubled. I was in a strange mood: I had only twenty friedrichs d'or in my pocket; I was in a foreign land without a job or means of livelihood, withxmt hope, without prospects, and—I did not trouble my head about it! If it had not been for the thought of Polina, I should have abandoned myself to the comic interest of the approaching catastrophe, and would have been shouting with laughter. But I was troubled about Polina; her fate was being decided, I divined that; but I regret to say that it was not altogether her fate that troubled me. I wanted to fathom her secrets; I wanted her to come to me and say: "I love you," and if not that, if that was senseless insanity, then . . . well, what was there to care about? Did I know what I wanted? I was like one demented: all I wanted was to be near her, in the halo of her glory, in her radiance, always, for ever, all my life. I knew nothing morel And could I leave her?

In their passage on the third storey I felt as though something nudged me. I turned roimd and, twenty paces or more from me, I saw coming out of a door, Polina. She seemed waiting: and as soon as she saw me beckoned to me.

"Polina Alexandrovna ..."

"Hush!" she said.

"Imagine," I whispered to her, "I felt as though someone had nudged me just now; I looked round—^you! It seems as though there were a sort of electricity from youl"

"Take this letter," PoUna articulated anxiotisly with a frown, probably not hearing what I had said, "and give it into Mr. Astley's own hands at once. Make haste, I Ijeg you. There is no need of an answer. He will ..."

She did not finish.

"Mr. Astley?" I repeated in surprise.

But Polina had already disappeared behind the door.

"Aha, so they are in correspondence!" I ran at once, of course, to Mr. Astley; first to his hotel, where I did not find him, then to the Casino, where I hurried through all the rooms: and at last, as I was returning home in vexation, almost in despair, I met him by chance, witti a party of Englishmen and Englishwomen on horseback. I beckoned to him, stopped him and gave him the letter: we had not time even to exchange a glance. But I suspect that Mr. Astley purposely gave rein to his horse.

Was I tortured by jealousy? An5:way, I was in an utterly shattered condition. I did not even want to find out what th^

were writing to one another about. And so he was trasted by her I "Her friend, her friend," I thought, "and that is clear (and when has he had time to become her friend?), but is there love in the case? Of course not," common-sense whispered to me. But common-sense alone counts for little in such cases; anyway, this, too, had to be cleared up. Things were growing unpleasantly complicated.

Before I had time to go into the hotel, first the porter and then the ober-keUner. coming out of his room, informed me that I was wanted, that I had been asked for, three times they had sent to ask: where was I?—^that I was asked to go as quickly as possible to the General's rooms. I was in the most disagreeable frame of mind. In the General's room I found, besides the General himself, De Grieux and Mile. Blanche—alone, without her mother. The mother was evidently an official one, only used for show. But when it came to real bimness she acted for herself. And probably the woman knew little of her so-called daughter's affairs.

They were, however, consulting warmly about something, and the doors of the study were actually locked—^which had never happened before. Coming to the door, I heard loud voices—De Grieux's insolent and malignant voice, Blanche's shrill fury, and the General's pitiful tones, evidently defending himself about something. Upon my enfrance they all, as it were, pulled themselves up and restrained themselves. De Grieux smoothed his hair and forced a smile into his angry face—^that horrid official French smile which I so detest. The crushed and desperate General tried to assume an air of dignity, but it was a mechanical effort. Only Mile. Blanche's countenjince, blazing with anger, scarcely changed. She only ceased speaking while she fixed her eyes upon me in impatient expectation. I may mention that hitherto she had freated me with extraordinary casualness, had even refused to respond to my bows, and had simply declined to see me.

"Alexey Ivanovitch," the General began in a soft and mollifying tone; "allow me to tell you that it is strange, exceedingly strange ... in fact, yoixr conduct in regard to me and my family ... in fact, it is exceedingly strange ..."

"Eh! ce m'esi pas ga," De Grieux interposed, with vexation and contempt. (There's no doubt he was the leading spirit.) "Mem cher monsiew, twire cher general se trompe, in taking up this tone" (I franslate the rest of his speech in Russian), "but he meant to say . . . that is to warn you, or rather to beg

you most earnestly not to ruin him—^yes, indeed, not to ruin him I I make use of that expression."

"But how, how?" I interrapted.

"Why, you are undertaking to be the guide (or how shall I express it?) of this old woman, cette pcmvre terrible vieill&"r-De Grieux himself hesitated—"but you know she'll lose everything; she will gamble away her whole fortune! You know yourself, you have seen yourself, how she plays I If she begins to lose; she will never leave off, from obstinacy, from anger, and will lose everything, she will gamble away everything, and in such cases one can never regain one's losses and then . . . then . . ."