The Queen of Spades 黑桃皇后

by Aleksandr S. Pushkin

I
There was a card party at the rooms of Narumov of the Horse Guards. The long winter night passed away imperceptibly, and it was five o'clock in the morning before the company sat down to supper. Those who had won, ate with a good appetite; the others sat staring absently at their empty plates. When the champagne appeared, however, the conversation became more animated, and all took a part in it.
"And how did you fare, Surin?" asked the host.
"Oh, I lost, as usual. I must confess that I am unlucky: I play mirandole, I always keep cool, I never allow anything to put me out, and yet I always lose!"
"And you did not once allow yourself to be tempted to back the red?... Your firmness astonishes me."
"But what do you think of Hermann?" said one of the guests, pointing to a young Engineer: "he has never had a card in his hand in his life, he has never in, his life laid a wager, and yet he sits here till five o'clock in the morning watching our play."
"Play interests me very much," said Hermann: "but I am not in the position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the superfluous."
"Hermann is a German: he is economical--that is all!" observed Tomsky. "But if there is one person that I cannot understand, it is my grandmother, the Countess Anna Fedotovna."
"How so?" inquired the guests.
"I cannot understand," continued Tomsky, "how it is that my grandmother does not punt."


"What is there remarkable about an old lady of eighty not punting?" said Narumov.
"Then you do not know the reason why?"
"No, really; haven't the faintest idea."
"Oh! then listen. About sixty years ago, my grandmother went to Paris, where she created quite a sensation. People used to run after her to catch a glimpse of the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love to her, and my grandmother maintains that he almost blew out his brains in consequence of her cruelty. At that time ladies used to play at faro. On one occasion at the Court, she lost a very considerable sum to the Duke of Orleans. On returning home, my grandmother removed the patches from her face, took off her hoops, informed my grandfather of her loss at the gaming-table, and ordered him to pay the money. My deceased grandfather, as far as I remember, was a sort of house-steward to my grandmother. He dreaded her like fire; but, on hearing of such a heavy loss, he almost went out of his mind; he calculated the various sums she had lost, and pointed out to her that in six months she had spent half a million francs, that neither their Moscow nor Saratov estates were in Paris, and finally refused point blank to pay the debt. My grandmother gave him a box on the ear and slept by herself as a sign of her displeasure. The next day she sent for her husband, hoping that this domestic punishment had produced an effect upon him, but she found him inflexible. For the first time in her life, she entered into reasonings and explanations with him, thinking to be able to convince him by pointing out to him that there are debts and debts, and that there is a great difference between a Prince and a coachmaker. But it was all in vain, my grandfather still remained obdurate. But the matter did not rest there. My grandmother did not know what to do. She had shortly before become acquainted with a very remarkable man. You have heard of Count St. Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories are told. You know that he represented himself as the Wandering Jew, as the discoverer of the elixir of life, of the philosopher's stone, and so forth. Some laughed at him as a charlatan; but Casanova, in his memoirs, says that he was a spy. But be that as it may, St. Germain, in spite of the mystery surrounding him, was a very fascinating person, and was much sought after in the best circles of society. Even to this day my grandmother retains an affectionate recollection of him, and becomes quite angry if any one speaks disrespectfully of him. My grandmother knew that St. Germain had large sums of money at his disposal. She resolved to have recourse to him, and she wrote a letter to him asking him to come to her without delay. The queer old man immediately waited upon her and found her overwhelmed with grief. She described to him in the blackest colours the barbarity of her husband, and ended by declaring that her whole hope depended upon his friendship and amiability.
"St. Germain reflected.
"'I could advance you the sum you want,' said he; 'but I know that you would not rest easy until you had paid me back, and I should not like to bring fresh troubles upon you. But there is another way of getting out of your difficulty: you can win back your money.'
"'But, my dear Count,' replied my grandmother, 'I tell you that I haven't any money left.'
"'Money is not necessary,' replied St. Germain: 'be pleased to listen to me.'
"Then he revealed to her a secret, for which each of us would give a good deal..."
The young officers listened with increased attention. Tomsky lit his pipe, puffed away for a moment and then continued:
"That same evening my grandmother went to Versailles to the jeu de la reine. The Duke of Orleans kept the bank; my grandmother excused herself in an off-hand manner for not having yet paid her debt, by inventing some little story, and then began to play against him. She chose three cards and played them one after the other: all three won sonika, [Said of a card when it wins or loses in the quickest possible time.] and my grandmother recovered every farthing that she had lost."
"Mere chance!" said one of the guests.
"A tale!" observed Hermann.
"Perhaps they were marked cards!" said a third.
"I do not think so," replied Tomsky gravely.
"What!" said Narumov, "you have a grandmother who knows how to hit upon three lucky cards in succession, and you have never yet succeeded in getting the secret of it out of her?"
"That's the deuce of it!" replied Tomsky: "she had four sons, one of whom was my father; all four were determined gamblers, and yet not to one of them did she ever reveal her secret, although it would not have been a bad thing either for them or for me. But this is what I heard from my uncle, Count Ivan Ilyich, and he assured me, on his honour, that it was true. The late Chaplitzky--the same who died in poverty after having squandered millions--once lost, in his youth, about three hundred thousand roubles--to Zorich, if I remember rightly. He was in despair. My grandmother, who was always very severe upon the extravagance of young men, took pity, however, upon Chaplitzky. She gave him three cards, telling him to play them one after the other, at the same time exacting from him a solemn promise that he would never play at cards again as long as he lived. Chaplitzky then went to his victorious opponent, and they began a fresh game. On the first card he staked fifty thousand rubles and won sonika; he doubled the stake and won again, till at last, by pursuing the same tactics, he won back more than he had lost ...
"But it is time to go to bed: it is a quarter to six already."
And indeed it was already beginning to dawn: the young men emptied their glasses and then took leave of each other.
II
The old Countess A---- was seated in her dressing-room in front of her looking--glass. Three waiting maids stood around her. One held a small pot of rouge, another a box of hair-pins, and the third a tall can with bright red ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest pretensions to beauty, but she still preserved the habits of her youth, dressed in strict accordance with the fashion of seventy years before, and made as long and as careful a toilette as she would have done sixty years previously. Near the window, at an embroidery frame, sat a young lady, her ward.
"Good morning, grandmamma," said a young officer, entering the room. "Bonjour, Mademoiselle Lise. Grandmamma, I want to ask you something."
"What is it, Paul?"
"I want you to let me introduce one of my friends to you, and to allow me to bring him to the ball on Friday."
"Bring him direct to the ball and introduce him to me there. Were you at B----'s yesterday?"
"Yes; everything went off very pleasantly, and dancing was kept up until five o'clock. How charming Yeletzkaya was!"
"But, my dear, what is there charming about her? Isn't she like her grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna? By the way, she must be very old, the Princess Daria Petrovna."
"How do you mean, old?" cried Tomsky thoughtlessly; "she died seven years ago."
The young lady raised her head and made a sign to the young officer. He then remembered that the old Countess was never to be informed of the death of any of her contemporaries, and he bit his lips. But the old Countess heard the news with the greatest indifference.
"Dead!" said she; "and I did not know it. We were appointed maids of honour at the same time, and when we were presented to the Empress..."
And the Countess for the hundredth time related to her grandson one of her anecdotes.
"Come, Paul," said she, when she had finished her story, "help me to get up. Lizanka, where is my snuff-box?"
And the Countess with her three maids went behind a screen to finish her toilette. Tomsky was left alone with the young lady.
"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to the Countess?" asked Lizaveta Ivanovna in a whisper.
"Narumov. Do you know him?"
"No. Is he a soldier or a civilian?"
"A soldier."
"Is he in the Engineers?"
"No, in the Cavalry. What made you think that he was in the Engineers?"
The young lady smiled, but made no reply.
"Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me some new novel, only pray don't let it be one of the present day style."
"What do you mean, grandmother?"
"That is, a novel, in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his mother, and in which there are no drowned bodies. I have a great horror of drowned persons."
"There are no such novels nowadays. Would you like a Russian one?"
"Are there any Russian novels? Send me one, my dear, pray send me one!"
"Good-bye, grandmother: I am in a hurry... Good-bye, Lizaveta Ivanovna. What made you think that Narumov was in the Engineers?"
And Tomsky left the boudoir.
Lizaveta Ivanovna was left alone: she laid aside her work and began to look out of the window. A few moments afterwards, at a corner house on the other side of the street, a young officer appeared. A deep blush covered her cheeks; she took up her work again and bent her head down over the frame. At the same moment the Countess returned completely dressed.
"Order the carriage, Lizaveta," said she; "we will go out for a drive."
Lizaveta arose from the frame and began to arrange her work.
"What is the matter with you, my child, are you deaf?" cried the Countess. "Order the carriage to be got ready at once."
"I will do so this moment," replied the young lady, hastening into the ante-room.
A servant entered and gave the Countess some books from Prince Paul Aleksandrovich.
"Tell him that I am much obliged to him," said the Countess. "Lizaveta! Lizaveta! Where are you running to?"
"I am going to dress."
"There is plenty of time, my dear. Sit down here. Open the first volume and read to me aloud."
Her companion took the book and read a few lines.
"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you, my child? Have you lost your voice? Wait--give me that footstool--a little nearer--that will do."
Lizaveta read two more pages. The Countess yawned.
"Put the book down," said she: "what a lot of nonsense! Send it back to Prince Paul with my thanks... But where is the carriage?"
"The carriage is ready," said Lizaveta, looking out into the street.
"How is it that you are not dressed?" said the Countess: "I must always wait for you. It is intolerable, my dear!"
Liza hastened to her room. She had not been there two minutes, before the Countess began to ring with all her might. The three waiting-maids came running in at one door and the valet at another.
"How is it that you cannot hear me when I ring for you?" said the Countess. "Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her."
Lizaveta returned with her hat and cloak on.
"At last you are here!" said the Countess. "But why such an elaborate toilette? Whom do you intend to captivate? What sort of weather is it? It seems rather windy."
"No, your Ladyship, it is very calm," replied the valet.
"You never think of what you are talking about. Open the window. So it is: windy and bitterly cold. Unharness the horses. Lizaveta, we won't go out--there was no need for you to deck yourself like that."
"What a life is mine!" thought Lizaveta Ivanovna.
And, in truth, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a very unfortunate creature. "The bread of the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard to climb." But who can know what the bitterness of dependence is so well as the poor companion of an old lady of quality? The Countess A---- had by no means a bad heart, bat she was capricious, like a woman who had been spoilt by the world, as well as being avaricious and egotistical, like all old people who have seen their best days, and whose thoughts are with the past and not the present. She participated in all the vanities of the great world, went to balls, where she sat in a corner, painted and dressed in old-fashioned style, like a deformed but indispensable ornament of the ball-room; all the guests on entering approached her and made a profound bow, as if in accordance with a set ceremony, but after that nobody took any further notice of her. She received the whole town at her house, and observed the strictest etiquette, although she could no longer recognise the faces of people. Her numerous domestics, growing fat and old in her ante-chamber and servants' hall, did just as they liked, and vied with each other in robbing the aged Countess in the most bare-faced manner. Lizaveta Ivanovna was the martyr of the household. She made tea, and was reproached with using too much sugar; she read novels aloud to the Countess, and the faults of the author were visited upon her head; she accompanied the Countess in her walks, and was held answerable for the weather or the state of the pavement. A salary was attached to the post, but she very rarely received it, although she was expected to dress like everybody else, that is to say, like very few indeed. In society she played the most pitiable role. Everybody knew her, and nobody paid her any attention. At balls she danced only when a partner was wanted, and ladies would only take hold of her arm when it was necessary to lead her out of the room to attend to their dresses. She was very self-conscious, and felt her position keenly, and she looked about her with impatience for a deliverer to come to her rescue; but the young men, calculating in their giddiness, honoured her with but very little attention, although Lizaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times prettier than the bare-faced and cold-hearted marriageable girls around whom they hovered. Many a time did she quietly slink away from the glittering but wearisome drawing-room, to go and cry in her own poor little room, in which stood a screen, a chest of drawers, a looking-glass and a painted bedstead, and where a tallow candle burnt feebly in a copper candle-stick.
One morning--this was about two days after the evening party described at the beginning of this story, and a week previous to the scene at which we have just assisted--Lizaveta Ivanovna was seated near the window at her embroidery frame, when, happening to look out into the street, she caught sight of a young Engineer officer, standing motionless with his eyes fixed upon her window. She lowered her head and went on again with her work. About five minutes afterwards she looked out again--the young officer was still standing in the same place. Not being in the habit of coquetting with passing officers, she did not continue to gaze out into the street, but went on sewing for a couple of hours, without raising her head. Dinner was announced. She rose up and began to put her embroidery away, but glancing casually out of the window, she perceived the officer again. This seemed to her very strange. After dinner she went to the window with a certain feeling of uneasiness, but the officer was no longer there--and she thought no more about him.
A couple of days afterwards, just as she was stepping into the carriage with the Countess, she saw him again. He was standing close behind the door, with his face half-concealed by his fur collar, but his dark eyes sparkled beneath his cap. Lizaveta felt alarmed, though she knew not why, and she trembled as she seated herself in the carriage.
On returning home, she hastened to the window--the officer was standing in his accustomed place, with his eyes fixed upon her. She drew back, a prey to curiosity and agitated by a feeling which was quite new to her.
From that time forward not a day passed without the young officer making his appearance under the window at the customary hour, and between him and her there was established a sort of mute acquaintance. Sitting in her place at work, she used to feel his approach; and raising her head, she would look at him longer and longer each day. The young man seemed to be very grateful to her: she saw with the sharp eye of youth, how a sudden flush covered his pale cheeks each time that their glances met. After about a week she commenced to smile at him...
When Tomsky asked permission of his grandmother the Countess to present one of his friends to her, the young girl's heart beat violently. But hearing that Narumov was not an Engineer, she regretted that by her thoughtless question, she had betrayed her secret to the volatile Tomsky.
Hermann was the son of a German who had become a naturalised Russian, and from whom he had inherited a small capital. Being firmly convinced of the necessity of preserving his independence, Hermann did not touch his private income, but lived on his pay, without allowing himself the slightest luxury. Moreover, he was reserved and ambitious, and his companions rarely had an opportunity of making merry at the expense of his extreme parsimony. He had strong passions and an ardent imagination, but his firmness of disposition preserved him from the ordinary errors of young men. Thus, though a gamester at heart, he never touched a card, for he considered his position did not allow him--as he said--"to risk the necessary in the hope of winning the superfluous," yet he would sit for nights together at the card table and follow with feverish anxiety the different turns of the game.
The story of the three cards had produced a powerful impression upon his imagination, and all night long he could think of nothing else. "If," he thought to himself the following evening, as he walked along the streets of St. Petersburg, "if the old Countess would but reveal her secret to me! if she would only tell me the names of the three winning cards. Why should I not try my fortune? I must get introduced to her and win her favour--become her lover... But all that will take time, and she is eighty-seven years old: she might be dead in a week, in a couple of days even!... But the story itself: can it really be true?... No! Economy, temperance and industry: those are my three winning cards; by means of them I shall be able to double my capital--increase it sevenfold, and procure for myself ease and independence."
Musing in this manner, he walked on until he found himself in one of the principal streets of St. Petersburg, in front of a house of antiquated architecture. The street was blocked with equipages; carriages one after the other drew up in front of the brilliantly illuminated doorway. At one moment there stepped out on to the pavement the well-shaped little foot of some young beauty, at another the heavy boot of a cavalry officer, and then the silk stockings and shoes of a member of the diplomatic world. Furs and cloaks passed in rapid succession before the gigantic porter at the entrance.
Hermann stopped. "Who's house is this?" he asked of the watchman at the corner.
"The Countess A----'s," replied the watchman.
Hermann started. The strange story of the three cards again presented itself to his imagination. He began walking up and down before the house, thinking of its owner and her strange secret. Returning late to his modest lodging, he could not go to sleep for a long time, and when at last he did doze off, he could dream of nothing but cards, green tables, piles of banknotes and heaps of ducats. He played one card after the other, winning uninterruptedly, and then he gathered up the gold and filled his pockets with the notes. When he woke up late the next morning, be sighed over the loss of his imaginary wealth, and then sallying out into the town, he found himself once more in front of the Countess's residence. Some unknown power seemed to have attracted him thither. He stopped and looked up at the windows. At one of these he saw a head with luxuriant black hair, which was bent down probably over some book or an embroidery frame. The head was raised. Hermann saw a fresh complexion and a pair of dark eyes. That moment decided his fate.
III
Lizaveta Ivanovna had scarcely taken off her hat and cloak, when the Countess sent for her and again ordered her to get the carriage ready. The vehicle drew up before the door, and they prepared to take their seats. Just at the moment when two footmen were assisting the old lady to enter the carriage, Lizaveta saw her Engineer standing close beside the wheel; he grasped her hand; alarm caused her to lose her presence of mind, and the young man disappeared--but not before he had left a letter between her fingers. She concealed it in her glove, and during the whole of the drive she neither saw nor heard anything. It was the custom of the Countess, when out for an airing in her carriage, to be constantly asking such questions as: "Who was that person that met us just now? What is the name of this bridge? What is written on that signboard?" On this occasion, however, Lizaveta returned such vague and absurd answers, that the Countess became angry with her.
"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she exclaimed. "Have you taken leave of your senses, or what is it? Do you not hear me or understand what I say?... Heaven be thanked, I am still in my right mind and speak plainly enough!"
Lizaveta Ivanovna did not hear her. On returning home she ran to her room, and drew the letter out of her glove: it was not sealed. Lizaveta read it. The letter contained a declaration of love; it was tender, respectful, and copied word for word from a German novel. But Lizaveta did not know anything of the German language, and she was quite delighted.
For all that, the letter caused her to feel exceedingly uneasy. For the first time in her life she was entering into secret and confidential relations with a young man. His boldness alarmed her. She reproached herself for her imprudent behaviour, and knew not what to do. Should she cease to sit at the window and, by assuming an appearance of indifference towards him, put a check upon the young officer's desire for further acquaintance with her? Should she send his letter back to him, or should she answer him in a cold and decided manner? There was nobody to whom she could turn in her perplexity, for she had neither female friend nor adviser... At length she resolved to reply to him.
She sat down at her little writing-table, took pen and paper, and began to think. Several times she began her letter, and then tore it up: the way she had expressed herself seemed to her either too inviting or too cold and decisive. At last she succeeded in writing a few lines with which she felt satisfied.
"I am convinced," she wrote, "that your intentions are honourable, and that you do not wish to offend me by any imprudent behaviour, but our acquaintance must not begin in such a manner. I return you your letter, and I hope that I shall never have any cause to complain of this undeserved slight."
The next day, as soon as Hermann made his appearance, Lizaveta rose from her embroidery, went into the drawing-room, opened the ventilator and threw the letter into the street, trusting that the young officer would have the perception to pick it up.
Hermann hastened forward, picked it up and then repaired to a confectioner's shop. Breaking the seal of the envelope, he found inside it his own letter and Lizaveta's reply. He had expected this, and he returned home, his mind deeply occupied with his intrigue.
Three days afterwards, a bright-eyed young girl from a milliner's establishment brought Lizaveta a letter. Lizaveta opened it with great uneasiness, fearing that it was a demand for money, when suddenly she recognised Hermann's hand-writing.
"You have made a mistake, my dear," said she: "this letter is not for me."
"Oh, yes, it is for you," replied the girl, smiling very knowingly. "Have the goodness to read it."
Lizaveta glanced at the letter. Hermann requested an interview.
"It cannot be," she cried, alarmed at the audacious request, and the manner in which it was made. "This letter is certainly not for me."
And she tore it into fragments.
"If the letter was not for you, why have you torn it up?" said the girl. "I should have given it back to the person who sent it."
"Be good enough, my dear," said Lizaveta, disconcerted by this remark, "not to bring me any more letters for the future, and tell the person who sent you that he ought to be ashamed..."
But Hermann was not the man to be thus put off. Every day Lizaveta received from him a letter, sent now in this way, now in that. They were no longer translated from the German. Hermann wrote them under the inspiration of passion, and spoke in his own language, and they bore full testimony to the inflexibility of his desire and the disordered condition of his uncontrollable imagination. Lizaveta no longer thought of sending them back to him: she became intoxicated with them and began to reply to them, and little by little her answers became longer and more affectionate. At last she threw out of the window to him the following letter:
"This evening there is going to be a ball at the Embassy. The Countess will be there. We shall remain until two o'clock. You have now an opportunity of seeing me alone. As soon as the Countess is gone, the servants will very probably go out, and there will be nobody left but the Swiss, but he usually goes to sleep in his lodge. Come about half-past eleven. Walk straight upstairs. If you meet anybody in the ante-room, ask if the Countess is at home. You will be told 'No,' in which case there will be nothing left for you to do but to go away again. But it is most probable that you will meet nobody. The maidservants will all be together in one room. On leaving the ante-room, turn to the left, and walk straight on until you reach the Countess's bedroom. In the bedroom, behind a screen, you will find two doors: the one on the right leads to a cabinet, which the Countess never enters; the one on the left leads to a corridor, at the end of which is a little winding staircase; this leads to my room."
Hermann trembled like a tiger, as he waited for the appointed time to arrive. At ten o'clock in the evening he was already in front of the Countess's house. The weather was terrible; the wind blew with great violence; the sleety snow fell in large flakes; the lamps emitted a feeble light, the streets were deserted; from time to time a sledge, drawn by a sorry-looking hack, passed by, on the look-out for a belated passenger. Hermann was enveloped in a thick overcoat, and felt neither wind nor snow.
At last the Countess's carriage drew up. Hermann saw two footmen carry out in their arms the bent form of the old lady, wrapped in sable fur, and immediately behind her, clad in a warm mantle, and with her head ornamented with a wreath of fresh flowers, followed Lizaveta. The door was closed. The carriage rolled away heavily through the yielding snow. The porter shut the street-door; the windows became dark.
Hermann began walking up and down near the deserted house; at length he stopped under a lamp, and glanced at his watch: it was twenty minutes past eleven. He remained standing under the lamp, his eyes fixed upon the watch, impatiently waiting for the remaining minutes to pass. At half-past eleven precisely, Hermann ascended the steps of the house, and made his way into the brightly-illuminated vestibule. The porter was not there. Hermann hastily ascended the staircase, opened the door of the ante-room and saw a footman sitting asleep in an antique chair by the side of a lamp. With a light firm step Hermann passed by him. The drawing-room and dining-room were in darkness, but a feeble reflection penetrated thither from the lamp in the ante-room.
Hermann reached the Countess's bedroom. Before a shrine, which was full of old images, a golden lamp was burning. Faded stuffed chairs and divans with soft cushions stood in melancholy symmetry around the room, the walls of which were hung with China silk. On one side of the room hung two portraits painted in Paris by Madame Lebrun. One of these represented a stout, red-faced man of about forty years of age in a bright-green uniform and with a star upon his breast; the other--a beautiful young woman, with an aquiline nose, forehead curls and a rose in her powdered hair. In the corners stood porcelain shepherds and shepherdesses, dining-room clocks from the workshop of the celebrated Lefroy, bandboxes, roulettes, fans and the various playthings for the amusement of ladies that were in vogue at the end of the last century, when Montgolfier's balloons and Mesmer's magnetism were the rage. Hermann stepped behind the screen. At the back of it stood a little iron bedstead; on the right was the door which led to the cabinet; on the left--the other which led to the corridor. He opened the latter, and saw the little winding staircase which led to the room of the poor companion... But he retraced his steps and entered the dark cabinet.
The time passed slowly. All was still. The clock in the drawing-room struck twelve; the strokes echoed through the room one after the other, and everything was quiet again. Hermann stood leaning against the cold stove. He was calm; his heart beat regularly, like that of a man resolved upon a dangerous but inevitable undertaking. One o'clock in the morning struck; then two; and he heard the distant noise of carriage-wheels. An involuntary agitation took possession of him. The carriage drew near and stopped. He heard the sound of the carriage-steps being let down. All was bustle within the house. The servants were running hither and thither, there was a confusion of voices, and the rooms were lit up. Three antiquated chamber-maids entered the bedroom, and they were shortly afterwards followed by the Countess who, more dead than alive, sank into a Voltaire armchair. Hermann peeped through a chink. Lizaveta Ivanovna passed close by him, and he heard her hurried steps as she hastened up the little spiral staircase. For a moment his heart was assailed by something like a pricking of conscience, but the emotion was only transitory, and his heart became petrified as before.
The Countess began to undress before her looking-glass. Her rose-bedecked cap was taken off, and then her powdered wig was removed from off her white and closely-cut hair. Hairpins fell in showers around her. Her yellow satin dress, brocaded with silver, fell down at her swollen feet.
Hermann was a witness of the repugnant mysteries of her toilette; at last the Countess was in her night-cap and dressing-gown, and in this costume, more suitable to her age, she appeared less hideous and deformed.
Like all old people in general, the Countess suffered from sleeplessness. Having undressed, she seated herself at the window in a Voltaire armchair and dismissed her maids. The candles were taken away, and once more the room was left with only one lamp burning in it. The Countess sat there looking quite yellow, mumbling with her flaccid lips and swaying to and fro. Her dull eyes expressed complete vacancy of mind, and, looking at her, one would have thought that the rocking of her body was not a voluntary action of her own, but was produced by the action of some concealed galvanic mechanism.
Suddenly the death-like face assumed an inexplicable expression. The lips ceased to tremble, the eyes became animated: before the Countess stood an unknown man.
"Do not be alarmed, for Heaven's sake, do not be alarmed!" said he in a low but distinct voice. "I have no intention of doing you any harm, I have only come to ask a favour of you."
The old woman looked at him in silence, as if she had not heard what he had said. Hermann thought that she was deaf, and bending down towards her ear, he repeated what he had said. The aged Countess remained silent as before.
"You can insure the happiness of my life," continued Hermann, "and it will cost you nothing. I know that you can name three cards in order--"
Hermann stopped. The Countess appeared now to understand what he wanted; she seemed as if seeking for words to reply.
"It was a joke," she replied at last: "I assure you it was only a joke."
"There is no joking about the matter," replied Hermann angrily. "Remember Chaplitzky, whom you helped to win."
The Countess became visibly uneasy. Her features expressed strong emotion, but they quickly resumed their former immobility.
"Can you not name me these three winning cards?" continued Hermann.
The Countess remained silent; Hermann continued:
"For whom are you preserving your secret? For your grandsons? They are rich enough without it; they do not know the worth of money. Your cards would be of no use to a spendthrift. He who cannot preserve his paternal inheritance, will die in want, even though he had a demon at his service. I am not a man of that sort; I know the value of money. Your three cards will not be thrown away upon me. Come!"...
He paused and tremblingly awaited her reply. The Countess remained silent; Hermann fell upon his knees.
"If your heart has ever known the feeling of love," said he, "if you remember its rapture, if you have ever smiled at the cry of your new-born child, if any human feeling has ever entered into your breast, I entreat you by the feelings of a wife, a lover, a mother, by all that is most sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Reveal to me your secret. Of what use is it to you?... May be it is connected with some terrible sin with the loss of eternal salvation, with some bargain with the devil... Reflect,--you are old; you have not long to live--I am ready to take your sins upon my soul. Only reveal to me your secret. Remember that the happiness of a man is in your hands, that not only I, but my children, and grandchildren will bless your memory and reverence you as a saint..."
The old Countess answered not a word.
Hermann rose to his feet.
"You old hag!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth, "then I will make you answer!"
With these words he drew a pistol from his pocket.
At the sight of the pistol, the Countess for the second time exhibited strong emotion. She shook her head and raised her hands as if to protect herself from the shot... then she fell backwards and remained motionless.
"Come, an end to this childish nonsense!" said Hermann, taking hold of her hand. "I ask you for the last time: will you tell me the names of your three cards, or will you not?"
The Countess made no reply. Hermann perceived that she was dead!
IV
Lizaveta Ivanovna was sitting in her room, still in her ball dress, lost in deep thought. On returning home, she had hastily dismissed the chambermaid who very reluctantly came forward to assist her, saying that she would undress herself, and with a trembling heart had gone up to her own room, expecting to find Hermann there, but yet hoping not to find him. At the first glance she convinced herself that he was not there, and she thanked her fate for having prevented him keeping the appointment. She sat down without undressing, and began to recall to mind all the circumstances which in so short a time had carried her so far. It was not three weeks since the time when she first saw the young officer from the window--and yet she was already in correspondence with him, and he had succeeded in inducing her to grant him a nocturnal interview! She knew his name only through his having written it at the bottom of some of his letters; she had never spoken to him, had never heard his voice, and had never heard him spoken of until that evening. But, strange to say, that very evening at the ball, Tomsky, being piqued with the young Princess Pauline N----, who, contrary to her usual custom, did not flirt with him, wished to revenge himself by assuming an air of indifference: he therefore engaged Lizaveta Ivanovna and danced an endless mazurka with her. During the whole of the time he kept teasing her about her partiality for Engineer officers; he assured her that he knew far more than she imagined, and some of his jests were so happily aimed, that Lizaveta thought several times that her secret was known to him.
"From whom have you learnt all this?" she asked, smiling.
"From a friend of a person very well known to you," replied Tomsky, "from a very distinguished man."
"And who is this distinguished man?"
"His name is Hermann."
Lizaveta made no reply; but her hands and feet lost all sense of feeling.
"This Hermann," continued Tomsky, "is a man of romantic personality. He has the profile of a Napoleon, and the soul of a Mephistopheles. I believe that he has at least three crimes upon his conscience... How pale you have become!"
"I have a headache... But what did this Hermann--or whatever his name is--tell you?"
"Hermann is very much dissatisfied with his friend: he says that in his place he would act very differently... I even think that Hermann himself has designs upon you; at least, he listens very attentively to all that his friend has to say about you."
"And where has he seen me?"
"In church, perhaps; or on the parade--God alone knows where. It may have been in your room, while you were asleep, for there is nothing that he--"
Three ladies approaching him with the question: "oubli ou regret?" interrupted the conversation, which had become so tantalisingly interesting to Lizaveta.
The lady chosen by Tomsky was the Princess Pauline herself. She succeeded in effecting a reconciliation with him during the numerous turns of the dance, after which he conducted her to her chair. On returning to his place, Tomsky thought no more either of Hermann or Lizaveta. She longed to renew the interrupted conversation, but the mazurka came to an end, and shortly afterwards the old Countess took her departure.
Tomsky's words were nothing more than the customary small talk of the dance, but they sank deep into the soul of the young dreamer. The portrait, sketched by Tomsky, coincided with the picture she had formed within her own mind, and thanks to the latest romances, the ordinary countenance of her admirer became invested with attributes capable of alarming her and fascinating her imagination at the same time. She was now sitting with her bare arms crossed and with her head, still adorned with flowers, sunk upon her uncovered bosom. Suddenly the door opened and Hermann entered. She shuddered.
"Where were you?" she asked in a terrified whisper.
"In the old Countess's bedroom," replied Hermann: "I have just left her. The Countess is dead."
"My God! What do you say?"
"And I am afraid," added Hermann, "that I am the cause of her death."
Lizaveta looked at him, and Tomsky's words found an echo in her soul: "This man has at least three crimes upon his conscience!" Hermann sat down by the window near her, and related all that had happened.
Lizaveta listened to him in terror. So all those passionate letters, those ardent desires, this bold obstinate pursuit--all this was not love! Money--that was what his soul yearned for! She could not satisfy his desire and make him, happy I The poor girl had been nothing but the blind tool of a robber, of the murderer of her aged benefactress!... She wept bitter tears of agonised repentance. Hermann gazed at her in silence: his heart, too, was a prey to violent emotion, but neither the tears of the poor girl, nor the wonderful charm of her beauty, enhanced by her grief, could produce any impression upon his hardened soul. He felt no pricking of conscience at the thought of the dead old woman. One thing only grieved him: the irreparable loss of the secret from which he had expected to obtain great wealth.
"You are a monster!" said Lizaveta at last.
"I did not wish for her death," replied Hermann: "my pistol was not loaded."
Both remained silent.
The day began to dawn. Lizaveta extinguished her candle: a pale light illumined her room. She wiped her tear-stained eyes and raised them towards Hermann: he was sitting near the window, with his arms crossed and with a fierce frown upon his forehead. In this attitude he bore a striking resemblance to the portrait of Napoleon. This resemblance struck Lizaveta even.
"How shall I get you out of the house?" said she at last. "I thought of conducting you down the secret staircase, but in that case it would be necessary to go through the Countess's bedroom, and I am afraid."
"Tell me how to find this secret staircase--I will go alone."
Lizaveta arose, took from her drawer a key, handed it to Hermann and gave him the necessary instructions. Hermann pressed her cold, limp hand, kissed her bowed head, and left the room.
He descended the winding staircase, and once more entered the Countess's bedroom. The dead old lady sat as if petrified; her face expressed profound tranquillity. Hermann stopped before her, and gazed long and earnestly at her, as if he wished to convince himself of the terrible reality; at last he entered the cabinet, felt behind the tapestry for the door, and then began to descend the dark staircase, filled with strange emotions. "Down this very staircase," thought he, "perhaps coming from the very same room, and at this very same hour sixty years ago, there may have glided, in an embroidered coat, with his hair dressed a l'oiseau royal and pressing to his heart his three-cornered hat, some young gallant, who has long been mouldering in the grave, but the heart of his aged mistress has only to-day ceased to beat..."
At the bottom of the staircase Hermann found a door, which he opened with a key, and then traversed a corridor which conducted him into the street.
V
Three days after the fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning, Hermann repaired to the Convent of ----, where the last honours were to be paid to the mortal remains of the old Countess. Although feeling no remorse, he could not altogether stifle the voice of conscience, which said to him: "You are the murderer of the old woman!" In spite of his entertaining very little religious belief, he was exceedingly superstitious; and believing that the dead Countess might exercise an evil influence on his life, he resolved to be present at her obsequies in order to implore her pardon.
The church was full. It was with difficulty that Hermann made his way through the crowd of people. The coffin was placed upon a rich catafalque beneath a velvet baldachin. The deceased Countess lay within it, with her hands crossed upon her breast, with a lace cap upon her head and dressed in a white satin robe. Around the catafalque stood the members of her household: the servants in black caftans, with armorial ribbons upon their shoulders, and candles in their hands; the relatives--children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren--in deep mourning.
Nobody wept; tears would have been une affectation. The Countess was so old, that her death could have surprised nobody, and her relatives had long looked upon her as being out of the world. A famous preacher pronounced the funeral sermon. In simple and touching words he described the peaceful passing away of the righteous, who had passed long years in calm preparation for a Christian end. "The angel of death found her," said the orator, "engaged in pious meditation and waiting for the midnight bridegroom."
The service concluded amidst profound silence. The relatives went forward first to take farewell of the corpse. Then followed the numerous guests, who had come to render the last homage to her who for so many years had been a participator in their frivolous amusements. After these followed the members of the Countess's household. The last of these was an old woman of the same age as the deceased. Two young women led her forward by the hand. She had not strength enough to bow down to the ground--she merely shed a few tears and kissed the cold hand of her mistress.
Hermann now resolved to approach the coffin. He knelt down upon the cold stones and remained in that position for some minutes; at last he arose, as pale as the deceased Countess herself; he ascended the steps of the catafalque and bent over the corpse... At that moment it seemed to him that the dead woman darted a mocking look at him and winked with one eye. Hermann started back, took a false step and fell to the ground. Several persons hurried forward and raised him up. At the same moment Lizaveta Ivanovna was borne fainting into the porch of the church. This episode disturbed for some minutes the solemnity of the gloomy ceremony. Among the congregation arose a deep murmur, and a tall thin chamberlain, a near relative of the deceased, whispered in the ear of an Englishman who was standing near him, that the young officer was a natural son of the Countess, to which the Englishman coldly replied: "Oh!"
During the whole of that day, Hermann was strangely excited. Repairing to an out-of-the-way restaurant to dine, he drank a great deal of wine, contrary to his usual custom, in the hope of deadening his inward agitation. But the wine only served to excite his imagination still more. On returning home, he threw himself upon his bed without undressing, and fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up it was already night, and the moon was shining into the room. He looked at his watch: it was a quarter to three. Sleep had left him; he sat down upon his bed and thought of the funeral of the old Countess.
At that moment somebody in the street looked in at his window, and immediately passed on again. Hermann paid no attention to this incident. A few moments afterwards he heard the door of his ante-room open. Hermann thought that it was his orderly, drunk as usual, returning from some nocturnal expedition, but presently he heard footsteps that were unknown to him: somebody was walking softly over the floor in slippers. The door opened, and a woman dressed in white, entered the room. Hermann mistook her for his old nurse, and wondered what could bring her there at that hour of the night. But the white woman glided rapidly across the room and stood before him--and Hermann recognised the Countess!
"I have come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice: "but I have been ordered to grant your request. Three, seven, ace, will win for you if played in succession, but only on these conditions: that you do not play more than one card in twenty-four hours, and that you never play again during the rest of your life. I forgive you my death, on condition that you marry my companion, Lizaveta Ivanovna."
With these words she turned round very quietly, walked with a shuffling gait towards the door and disappeared. Hermann heard the street-door open and shut, and again he saw some one look in at him through the window.
For a long time Hermann could not recover himself. He then rose up and entered the next room. His orderly was lying asleep upon the floor, and he had much difficulty in waking him. The orderly was drunk as usual, and no information could be obtained from him. The street-door was locked. Hermann returned to his room, lit his candle, and wrote down all the details of his vision.
VI
Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world than two bodies can occupy one and the same place in the physical world. "Three, seven, ace," soon drove out of Hermann's mind the thought of the dead Countess. "Three, seven, ace," were perpetually running through his head and continually being repeated by his lips. If he saw a young girl, he would say: "How slender she is! quite like the three of hearts." If anybody asked: "What is the time?" he would reply: "Five minutes to seven." Every stout man that he saw reminded him of the ace. "Three, seven, ace" haunted him in his sleep, and assumed all possible shapes. The threes bloomed before him in the forms of magnificent flowers, the sevens were represented by Gothic portals, and the aces became transformed into gigantic spiders. One thought alone occupied his whole mind--to make a profitable use of the secret which he had purchased so dearly. He thought of applying for a furlough so as to travel abroad. He wanted to go to Paris and tempt fortune in some of the public gambling-houses that abounded there. Chance spared him all this trouble.
There was in Moscow a society of rich gamesters, presided over by the celebrated Chekalinsky, who had passed all his life at the card-table and had amassed millions, accepting bills of exchange for his winnings and paying his losses in ready money. His long experience secured for him the confidence of his companions, and his open house, his famous cook, and his agreeable and fascinating manners gained for him the respect of the public. He came to St. Petersburg. The young men of the capital flocked to his rooms, forgetting balls for cards, and preferring the emotions of faro to the seductions of flirting. Narumov conducted Hermann to Chekalinsky's residence.
They passed through a suite of magnificent rooms, filled with attentive domestics. The place was crowded. Generals and Privy Counsellors were playing at whist; young men were lolling carelessly upon the velvet-covered sofas, eating ices and smoking pipes. In the drawing-room, at the head of a long table, around which were assembled about a score of players, sat the master of the house keeping the bank. He was a man of about sixty years of age, of a very dignified appearance; his head was covered with silvery-white hair; his full, florid countenance expressed good-nature, and his eyes twinkled with a perpetual smile. Narumov introduced Hermann to him. Chekalinsky shook him by the hand in a friendly manner, requested him not to stand on ceremony, and then went on dealing.
The game occupied some time. On the table lay more than thirty cards. Chekalinsky paused after each throw, in order to give the players time to arrange their cards and note down their losses, listened politely to their requests, and more politely still, put straight the corners of cards that some player's hand had chanced to bend. At last the game was finished. Chekalinsky shuffled the cards and prepared to deal again.
"Will you allow me to take a card?" said Hermann, stretching out his hand from behind a stout gentleman who was punting.
Chekalinsky smiled and bowed silently, as a sign of acquiescence. Narumov laughingly congratulated Hermann on his abjuration of that abstention from cards which he had practised for so long a period, and wished him a lucky beginning.
"Stake!" said Hermann, writing some figures with chalk on the back of his card.
"How much?" asked the banker, contracting the muscles of his eyes; "excuse me, I cannot see quite clearly."
"Forty-seven thousand rubles," replied Hermann.
At these words every head in the room turned suddenly round, and all eyes were fixed upon Hermann.
"He has taken leave of his senses!" thought Narumov.
"Allow me to inform you," said Chekalinsky, with his eternal smile, "that you are playing very high; nobody here has ever staked more than two hundred and seventy-five rubles at once."
"Very well," replied Hermann; "but do you accept my card or not?"
Chekalinsky bowed in token of consent.
"I only wish to observe," said he, "that although I have the greatest confidence in my friends, I can only play against ready money. For my own part, I am quite convinced that your word is sufficient, but for the sake of the order of the game, and to facilitate the reckoning up, I must ask you to put the money on your card."
Hermann drew from his pocket a bank-note and handed it to Chekalinsky, who, after examining it in a cursory manner, placed it on Hermann's card.
He began to deal. On the right a nine turned up, and on the left a three.
"I have won!" said Hermann, showing his card.
A murmur of astonishment arose among the players. Chekalinsky frowned, but the smile quickly returned to his face.
"Do you wish me to settle with you?" he said to Hermann.
"If you please," replied the latter.
Chekalinsky drew from his pocket a number of banknotes and paid at once. Hermann took up his money and left the table. Narumov could not recover from his astonishment. Hermann drank a glass of lemonade and returned home.
The next evening he again repaired to Chekalinsky's. The host was dealing. Hermann walked up to the table; the punters immediately made room for him. Chekalinsky greeted him with a gracious bow.
Hermann waited for the next deal, took a card and placed upon it his forty-seven thousand roubles, together with his winnings of the previous evening.
Chekalinsky began to deal. A knave turned up on the right, a seven on the left.
Hermann showed his seven.
There was a general exclamation. Chekalinsky was evidently ill at ease, but he counted out the ninety-four thousand rubles and handed them over to Hermann, who pocketed them in the coolest manner possible and immediately left the house.
The next evening Hermann appeared again at the table. Every one was expecting him. The generals and Privy Counsellors left their whist in order to watch such extraordinary play. The young officers quitted their sofas, and even the servants crowded into the room. All pressed round Hermann. The other players left off punting, impatient to see how it would end. Hermann stood at the table and prepared to play alone against the pale, but still smiling Chekalinsky. Each opened a pack of cards. Chekalinsky shuffled. Hermann took a card and covered it with a pile of bank-notes. It was like a duel. Deep silence reigned around.
Chekalinsky began to deal; his hands trembled. On the right a queen turned up, and on the left an ace.
"Ace has won!" cried Hermann, showing his card.
"Your queen has lost," said Chekalinsky, politely.
Hermann started; instead of an ace, there lay before him the queen of spades! He could not believe his eyes, nor could he understand how he had made such a mistake.
At that moment it seemed to him that the queen of spades smiled ironically and winked her eye at him. He was struck by her remarkable resemblance...
"The old Countess!" he exclaimed, seized with terror.
Chekalinsky gathered up his winnings. For some time, Hermann remained perfectly motionless. When at last he left the table, there was a general commotion in the room.
"Splendidly punted!" said the players. Chekalinsky shuffled the cards afresh, and the game went on as usual. * * * * *
Hermann went out of his mind, and is now confined in room Number 17 of the Obukhov Hospital. He never answers any questions, but he constantly mutters with unusual rapidity: "Three, seven, ace!" "Three, seven, queen!"
Lizaveta Ivanovna has married a very amiable young man, a son of the former steward of the old Countess. He is in the service of the State somewhere, and is in receipt of a good income. Lizaveta is also supporting a poor relative.
Tomsky has been promoted to the rank of captain, and has become the husband of the Princess Pauline.


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他們就幹這種　　
行當。

　　有一天，大伙在近衛騎兵團軍官納魯莫夫家裡打牌。漫長的冬夜不知不覺地過去，到早上四點多鐘他們才坐下吃晚飯。贏錢的人吃起來有滋有味，其餘的人卻坐在那裡，看著面前的空盤子發呆。但是一送上香檳，談話就活躍起來，大伙都參加談話。　　「你怎麼樣啦，蘇林？」主人問。　　「這不是又輸了。應該承認，我賭運不佳。我下注從來不加碼，一向都沉得住氣，什麼情況也不會使我糊塗，可我就是老輸！」　　「你真從來沒有著過迷？從來沒有盯著一張牌加賭注？……你這麼沉得住氣，真叫我驚奇。」　　「瞧人家格爾曼才沉得住氣呢！」一個來客指點一個年輕的工兵軍官說，「他從來沒有摸過牌，從來沒有叫過賭注加倍，可是他總陪我們坐到天亮五點鐘，看著我們打牌！」　　「我對打牌是非常感興趣的，」格爾曼說，「可是我不能為了希望發分外之財而去犧牲我生活必需的錢。」　　「格爾曼是德國人：他很節儉，就是這麼回事！」托姆斯基說。「要是說有什麼人使我不能理解的話，那就是我的祖母安娜.費奧多托夫娜伯爵夫人了。」　　「怎麼？怎麼回事？」客人們都叫起來。　　「我弄不明白，」托姆斯基說，「我的祖母現在怎麼不賭錢了？」　　「一個八十歲的老太太不賭錢，」納魯莫夫說，「這有什麼好奇怪的？」　　「她的事原來你們一點都不知道？」　　「不知道！真的，一點也不知道！」　　「哦，那你們就聽我說吧：　　「要知道，我的祖母六十年前去過巴黎，在那裡出足了風頭。好多人跟在她後面，為了一睹莫斯科的維納斯的芳顏。黎塞留拚命追求她，祖母很肯定地說，為了她的狠心，他差點沒開槍自殺。　　「那時候，女士們都興玩法拉昂 。有一次，她在宮廷裡打牌輸了，欠了奧爾良公爵一大筆錢。祖母回到家裡，揭下臉上的美人痣 ，解下箍骨裙，把輸了錢的事告訴祖父，吩咐他付賬。　　「據我記得，故去的祖父原來是祖母的管家。他怕她像怕火一樣；可是一聽她說輸了這麼一筆巨款，不禁發火了，他拿來賬簿讓她看，半年裡他們花了五十萬，在巴黎，他們可沒有在莫斯科近郊和薩拉托夫鄉下的田產，因此堅決拒絕付賬。祖母給了他一記耳光，自己賭氣睡下，表示對他惱火了。　　「第二天她吩咐把丈夫叫來，以為她的家法對他能起作用，哪知他還是毫不買賬。她生平第一次賞臉給他，同他商量，解釋，打算使他感到慚愧，她跟他說好話，給他打比方，欠債與欠債不相同，王子與馬車匠不一樣。『不行！』祖父造反了。『不行，說什麼也不行！』祖母簡直束手無策了。　　「她有個密友，一個非常有名的人。你們聽說過聖－熱爾曼伯爵吧，大家把他說得神乎其神。你們知道，他自稱是永恆的流浪漢，是長生不老丹和點金術的發明者等等。大家都譏笑他，說他是招搖撞騙，但卡扎諾瓦 在《回憶錄》中卻說他是間諜。聖－熱爾曼雖然是個神秘人物，卻生得儀表堂堂，在社交界非常討人喜愛。祖母至今還愛他愛得神魂顛倒，要是有人以輕蔑的口吻說到他，她就會生氣。祖母知道聖－熱爾曼手裡很有錢。她決定請他幫忙。她寫了個字條給他，請他立即前來。　　「這個老怪物立刻來了，看到她十分痛苦。她用極其惡毒的語言向他描述了丈夫是多麼蠻不講理，最後說，她把全部希望都寄托在他的友情和好意上。　　「聖－熱爾曼想了一想。『這筆錢我可以為您效勞，』他說，『不過我知道，不把這筆錢還我，您是不會安心的，我不願意給您再添麻煩。還有一個辦法：您可以翻本。』　　「『但是，親愛的伯爵，』祖母回答說，『我對您說吧，我們一個錢也沒有了。』『這兒用不著錢，』聖－熱爾曼說，『您聽我把話說完。』於是他就告訴她一個秘密，為了知道這個秘密，我們隨便什麼人都願意付出高昂的代價……」　　年輕的賭客們加倍注意地聽他講。托姆斯基抽起煙斗，深深吸了一口，接著講下去。　　「當天晚上，祖母就來到凡爾賽宮，在皇后那裡打牌。奧爾良公爵坐莊。祖母信口編了個小小的謊言為自己解釋，說沒有把欠的錢帶來，並向他表示歉意。說完就坐在他對面下注。她選了三張牌，一張接一張地出牌；結果三張牌都贏了，祖母把輸掉的錢全部撈回。」　　「這是碰巧！」一個客人說。　　「是瞎編的！」格爾曼說。　　「說不定是做了記號？」第三個人接腔說。　　「我可不這麼想，」托姆斯基傲慢地說。　　「怎麼！」納魯莫夫說，「你祖母能一連猜中三張牌，可你至今還沒有把她的秘訣學到手？」　　「唉，哪有這種好事！」托姆斯基說，「她有四個兒子，包括我父親：個個都是賭起來就不顧一切，可是她沒有向一個兒子公開過自己的秘密，儘管這對他們，甚至對我，都沒有壞處。可是我的伯父伊凡.伊裡奇伯爵千真萬確地對我說過這麼一件事。已故的恰普利茨基，就是那個把百萬家財揮霍乾淨，後來潦倒而死的那個人，年輕時候有一次賭輸了——將近三十萬。他絕望了。祖母對年輕人的胡來一向是非常嚴厲的，這一回不知怎麼竟對恰普利茨基動了憐憫。她告訴他三張牌，叫他一張接一張地出牌，同時要他發誓，從此不再賭錢。恰普利茨基到贏了他錢的人那裡去：他們坐下打牌。恰普利茨基在第一張牌上押了五萬，一下子就贏了，又來個加倍，再翻上一番——他翻了本，還贏了一些……」　　可是該去睡覺了，已經是五點三刻了。　　其實天已經亮了，年輕人喝完杯裡剩下的酒，各自回家。　


　二

「先生好像更喜歡侍女？」
「太太，那有什麼法子呢？她們更嬌艷。」
社交界新聞談

　　老伯爵夫人坐在更衣室的鏡子面前。三個侍女圍繞著她。一個拿著一小盒胭脂，一個拿著一盒發針，還有一個拿著一頂系有火紅色緞帶的高高的包發帽。伯爵夫人的美貌早已消逝，她已經不抱絲毫駐顏的奢望，但她還是保持著年輕時候的一切習慣，嚴格遵照七十年代的式樣，穿著起來還像六十年前花費那麼多時間，還是那麼一絲不苟。坐在窗前繡花的一位小姐是她的養女。　　「您好，祖母，」一個年輕人走了進來，說。「您好，麗莎小姐， 祖母，我有件事來求您。」　　「什麼事，保羅 ？」　　「請容許我給您介紹我的一個朋友，星期五我帶他到舞會上來見您。」　　「你直接帶他到舞會上來找我，就在那裡把他介紹給我。昨天你到那裡去了嗎？」　　「可不是嗎！快活極了，跳舞跳到五點鐘。葉列茨卡婭真美！」　　「啊，我親愛的！她美在哪裡？有她的祖母，達裡婭?彼得羅夫娜公爵夫人那麼美嗎？……哦，我想，達裡婭.彼得羅夫娜公爵夫人已經老得不行了吧？」　　「怎麼，老得不行了？」托姆斯基漫不在意地回答說：「她已經死了七年啦。」　　小姐抬起頭來向年輕人使了個眼色。他想起來了，他們對老伯爵夫人是瞞著她的同年女友的死訊的，便咬住了嘴唇。但是伯爵夫人聽到這對她是新聞的消息，竟絲毫無動於衷。　　「她死啦！」她說，「可我根本不知道！我們一同被賜做宮中女官，我們去覲見皇后的時候，皇后……」　　伯爵夫人的這個故事，對孫子已經講了上百遍了。　　「好吧，保羅，」後來她說，「現在扶我站起來。麗贊卡，我的鼻煙壺呢？」　　伯爵夫人帶著侍女們到屏風後面去繼續妝扮。托姆斯基和小姐留下。　　「您要介紹的是什麼人？」麗莎白悄悄地問。　　「納魯莫夫。您認識他？」　　「不認識！他是軍官還是文官？」　　「是軍官。」　　「是工兵軍官？」　　「不！是騎兵。您為什麼以為他是工兵軍官？」　　小姐笑了起來，沒有作答。　　「保羅！」伯爵夫人在屏風後面叫起來，「給我弄一本新小說來，不過，請不要眼下流行的。」　　「這是什麼意思，祖母？」　　「就是說，不要有主人公掐死父母，不要裡面有淹死的屍體的那種小說。我非常害怕淹死的人！」　　「如今沒有那種小說了。您要不要俄國小說？」　　「難道有俄國小說？……那就拿來吧，少爺，請拿來吧。」　　「再見，祖母。我要趕快走了……再見，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜！您到底為什麼會以為納魯莫夫是工兵軍官呢？」　　托姆斯基說了就走出了更衣室。　　剩下麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜一個人。她放下刺繡，開始瞧著窗外。不多一會，在大街對面從拐角的屋子後面走出一個青年軍官。她的兩頰泛起了紅暈，她又做起活計，頭幾乎低到繡布上。這時伯爵夫人已經穿戴完畢，走了進來。　　「麗贊卡，你去關照套馬車，」她說，「我們出去遛遛。」　　麗贊卡從繡架旁站起來，開始收拾活計。　　「你怎麼啦，我的媽！你聾了嗎！」伯爵夫人叫起來。「你快去叫他們套車呀。」　　「我這就去！」小姐輕聲回答，就跑到前室去。　　一個僕人進來，把帕維爾.亞歷山德羅維奇 送來的書呈給伯爵夫人。　　「好！謝謝，」伯爵夫人說。「麗贊卡，麗贊卡，你跑到哪兒去啦？」　　「在穿衣服吶。」　　「別忙，我的媽。坐在這兒。打開第一卷，念給我聽……」　　小姐拿起書來，念了幾行。　　「大聲點！」伯爵夫人說，「你怎麼啦，我的媽！嗓子啞啦？……等等，把擱腳凳給我挪過來，再近些……好，念吧！」　　麗莎白?伊凡諾夫娜又念了兩頁。伯爵夫人打了個哈欠。　　「把這本書扔掉，」她說，「簡直是胡說八道！把它還給帕維爾公爵，說我謝謝他……馬車怎麼樣啦？」　　「馬車預備好了，」麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜朝街上看了一眼，說。　　「你怎麼還沒有穿好衣服？」伯爵夫人說，「老要別人等你！我的媽，這真叫人受不了。」　　麗莎白跑到自己的房間裡去。還沒有過兩分鐘，伯爵夫人就拚命地搖鈴。三個侍女從一扇門裡跑進來，男侍從另一扇門裡跑進來。　　「叫你們怎麼沒有人答應？」伯爵夫人對他們說，「去告訴麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜，說我在等她。」　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜穿著長衣、戴著帽子走進來。　　「總算來了，我的媽！」伯爵夫人說。「這算什麼打扮！為了什麼？想去勾引誰？……天氣怎麼樣？好像有風。」　　「一點也沒有，夫人！天氣好極了！」男僕回答說。　　「你們總是信口瞎說！打開氣窗。果然有風！而且冷得要命！把車卸下！麗贊卡，我們不去了，不用打扮了。」　　「這就是我的生活！」麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜心裡想。　　的確，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜是個最最不幸的人。但丁說過，別人的麵包苦，別人的台階難攀登。有誰能像貴婦人的苦命的養女那樣，知道寄人籬下的辛酸呢？當然伯爵夫人心腸並不壞，但是她像在上流社會中被人捧壞的女人那樣任性，也像所有既不再留意逝去的年華而對現代社會又格格不入的老年人那樣吝嗇，冷漠，一心只顧自己。上流社會一切無謂的應酬，她無不參加。她出席舞會，塗脂抹粉，穿著式樣古老的服裝坐在角落裡，像是舞廳裡一件醜陋而又必不可少的點綴品。來的客人都走到她跟前深深鞠躬，好像履行一個規定的儀式，以後就誰也不去理睬她了。她在家裡招待全城上流社會的人士，嚴格遵照禮節，但是她一個人也認不出。她有一大群僕從，他們在她的前室裡和下房裡養得胖胖的，頭髮變白，他們想幹什麼，就幹什麼，爭先恐後地偷竊這個垂死的老太太的東西。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜是家裡的受氣包。斟茶的時候她因為多放了糖要挨數落，朗讀小說時凡是作者的錯誤都要怪她；她陪伴伯爵夫人外出，遇上天氣不好或道路不好走，也要她負責。她有規定的薪金，卻從來沒有付足過，然而卻要求她穿戴得像所有的人一樣，也就是像極少數人能夠穿得起的那樣。在交際場中她的處境是極為可憐的。人人都認識她，但是沒有人注意她。在舞會上，只有舞伴不夠的時候才輪得到她跳舞。太太們需要去更衣室整理一下服飾的時候總要挽著她同去。她自尊心強，痛切感到自己地位的低下，她觀察著周圍，迫切等待一位救星。但是年輕人的輕浮的虛榮心使他們非常精明，對她不屑一顧，儘管麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜比起他們涎皮賴臉纏住不放的厚顏而又冷冰冰的姑娘來，要可愛一百倍。多少次，她離開富麗堂皇而乏味的客廳，回到自己的簡陋的房間裡去暗自流淚。她的房間裡擺著一架糊花紙的屏風、一個五斗櫃，一面小鏡子和一張油漆過的床，銅燭台上點著一支黯淡的油蠟。　　有一次，——這是在這篇小說的開頭描述的那天晚上以後兩天，在我們談到的那個場面的一個星期以前——有一次，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜坐在窗前刺繡，無意中朝街上看了一眼，看見一個年輕的工兵軍官一動不動地站在那裡，眼睛盯著她的窗子。她又低下頭來做活計，五分鐘後又望了望——年輕的工兵軍官還站在那裡。她沒有和過路的軍官眉目傳情的習慣，便不再去看，頭也不抬地繡了將近兩個小時。開午飯了。她站起來收拾繡架，無意中又朝街上一望，又看見了那個軍官。她覺得這事很叫人納悶。吃完午飯，她懷著一種不安的心情走到窗前，可是軍官已經不在——她也就把他忘了……　　大約過了兩天，她陪伯爵夫人出去上馬車的時候，又看到他。他就站在大門口，用海龍皮大衣領遮著臉：他的烏黑的眼睛在帽子下面發亮。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜吃了一驚，自己也說不出是為了什麼。她坐上馬車，心裡說不出地忐忑不安。　　回到家裡，她連忙跑到窗口——軍官還站在老地方，眼睛盯著她。她走開了，好奇心使她苦惱，一種她從未體驗過的感情又使她激動。　　從那時起，每天到了一定的鐘點，那個年輕人一定出現在她們家的窗下。在他和她之間建立了一種默契。她坐在座位上刺繡，就感到他在近旁——便抬起頭來看他，注視他的時間逐日加長。那年輕人似乎為此感激她：她以青春時期的敏銳的目光看出來，每逢他們的目光相遇時，他的蒼白的面頰很快就遮上紅暈。過了一個星期，她對他微笑了一下……　　當托姆斯基請求伯爵夫人允許他把自己的朋友介紹給她的時候，可憐的姑娘的心怦然跳起來了。但是一聽說納魯莫夫並不是工兵軍官而是騎兵，她不禁後悔不該一時大意問了一句，向輕浮的托姆斯基洩露了自己的秘密。　　格爾曼是一個俄國化的德國人的兒子，父親留給他一小筆資產。格爾曼堅信必須確保生活自立，對遺產的利息都不動用，單靠薪俸生活，不讓自己有絲毫的放縱。但是，他性格內向，愛面子，同伴們不容易有機會取笑他的過分的節儉。他有著強烈的慾望和熱烈的幻想，但是堅強的毅力使他避免了青年人通常易犯的錯誤。比方說，他生性愛賭，卻從沒有摸過牌，因為他考慮到，他的財產不容許他(照他的說法，為了希望發分外之財而去犧牲我必需的錢)，然而，他卻整宵整宵地坐在牌桌旁邊，懷著狂熱的戰慄的心情注視著牌局輸贏的變化。　　三張牌的故事對他的想像力起了強烈的影響，整夜盤踞在他的腦際。「要是，」第二天傍晚，他漫步彼得堡街頭時想道，「要是老伯爵夫人向我公開她的秘密！或是向我指出這三張穩能贏錢的牌，那就好啦！我何不去試試我的運氣呢？……去向她自我介紹，取得她的寵愛，或是做她的情夫——但是這一切都需要時間，可是她已經八十七了——說不定過一個星期，說不定再過兩天，她就會死去！……可是這個故事本身呢？……它可信嗎？……不，節儉、克制和勤勞：這才是我的三張必勝的牌，它才能使我的資產增加兩倍、六倍，使我得到安寧和獨立的生活！」　　他這樣盤算著，不覺來到彼得堡一條主要大街上一座古老建築的宅子面前。街上擠滿了馬車，一輛接一輛地向這個燈光輝煌的大門口駛去。從這些馬車裡時而伸出年輕美人的纖足，時而伸出咚咚作響的長靴，時而又是帶條紋的長襪和外交官的皮鞋。皮大衣和斗篷在威風凜凜的司閽身邊閃過。格爾曼站了下來。　　「這是誰家的公館？」他問牆角邊的一個崗警。　　「伯爵夫人的。」崗警回答說。　　格爾曼戰慄起來。那個奇異的故事又在他的想像中浮現。他在房子旁邊走來走去，心裡想著房子的女主人和她那奇妙的本領。他很晚才回到他那簡陋的小屋裡，久久不能成寐，等他被睡魔征服之後，他就夢見了紙牌、綠呢牌桌、一疊疊的鈔票和一堆堆的金幣。他一張接一張地出牌，堅決地折角，不斷地贏錢，把金幣摟到自己面前，把鈔票放進口袋。早晨他很晚才醒來。因為失去了夢幻中的財富歎了口氣，又去城裡閒逛，又來到伯爵夫人的府邸前面。彷彿有一種神秘的力量把他吸引到這裡來。一個滿頭黑髮的小腦袋低垂著，大概是在看書或是做活計。那個小腦袋抬起來了。格爾曼看見了一張嬌艷的小臉和一雙烏黑的眼睛。這一刻決定了他的命運。

　　
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比我讀起來還快。
　　
書信

　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜剛把長衣和帽子脫掉，伯爵夫人已經差人來喚她，又吩咐套車。她們出來上車。就在兩個僕人攙扶著老夫人，把她塞進車門的當兒，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜在車輪旁邊看到了工兵軍官。他一把抓住她的手，把她嚇呆了，年輕人不見了：在她手裡留下一封信。她把信藏進手套裡，一路上什麼也聽不見，看不見了。伯爵夫人有個習慣，坐上馬車老愛問這問那：她們遇到的是什麼人？這座橋叫什麼？那邊招牌上寫的什麼？麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜這一回總是信口回答，答非所問，把伯爵夫人惹惱了。　　「你是怎麼回事，我的媽！你發昏了嗎？我的話你是沒有聽見呢，還是聽不懂？……感謝上帝，我說話並不是口齒不清，也沒有老糊塗！」　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜沒有聽見她說什麼。回到家裡，她急忙跑到自己的房間裡，從手套裡取出那封信。信沒有封口。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜把它讀了。這是一封表白愛情的信，充滿柔情和敬意，逐字逐句都是從一本德國小說上抄來的。可是麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜因為不懂德語，所以讀了非常滿意。　　然而她接到的這封信卻使她心慌意亂。她是第一次和一個青年男子有了秘密而密切的關係。他的大膽使她吃驚。她責備自己行為不檢點，不知如何是好：是不是不要再坐在窗口，冷淡地，給這個年輕軍官潑些冷水，免得他作進一步的追求；要不要把信退給他？——冷淡而堅決地回絕他？她沒有人可以商量，她既沒有女友，又沒有人可以請教。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜決定給他覆信。　　她在寫字桌前坐下，拿起紙和筆沉思起來。她幾次動筆開了個頭，又撕了：她覺得不是用詞太客氣就是太冷酷。她終於寫了幾行，覺得還算滿意。「我相信，」她寫道，「您是真心誠意的，您並不想用輕率的舉動來侮辱我。但是我們的相識不應該以這樣的方式開始。現將尊函退還，希望今後不至讓我抱怨說我受到不應得的不尊重。」　　第二天，麗莎白?伊凡諾夫娜看見格爾曼走過來，就從繡架旁站起來，走到大廳裡，打開氣窗，把信扔到街上，希望青年軍官能迅速地拾起來。格爾曼跑過來，拾起了信，便走進一家糖果鋪。他撕開火漆印，看到自己的信和麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜的覆信。這是在他的意料之中的，他回到家裡，專心致意地策劃起來。　　三天之後，時裝店的一個眼睛靈活的年輕姑娘給麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜送來一張字條。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜以為是來要賬的，擔心地打開字條，忽然認出是格爾曼的筆跡。　　「親愛的，您弄錯了，」她說，「這張字條不是給我的。」　　「不，正是給您的！」大膽的姑娘回答說，並不掩飾臉上狡黠的微笑。「請您看吧！」　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜匆匆看了字條。格爾曼要求會晤。　　「不可能！」麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜說，他的緊迫的要求和他採用的方法都叫她害怕。「這肯定不是寫給我的！」說著就把信撕得粉碎。　　「既然信不是寫給您的，您怎麼把它撕了呢？」那個姑娘說，「我可以把它退還給寄信的人啊！」　　「請您，親愛的！」麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜被她點破，臉漲得緋紅。「以後別再送字條給我。您對托您帶信的人說，他應該感到慚愧……」　　但是格爾曼並沒有就此罷休。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜每天收到他用各種方法送來的信。這些信已經不是從德國小說翻譯過來的。激情給了他靈感，格爾曼用自己特有的語言寫了這些信，信中表達了他的百折不撓的願望和他的不受羈絆的幻想，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜已經不想把它們退回：這些信使她陶醉。她開始給他覆信，而且信越寫越長，越來越充滿柔情蜜意。最後，她從窗口扔給他下面這封信：
今天公使舉行舞會。伯爵夫人將去參加。我們大約要待到兩點鐘。這樣，您就有機會和我單獨會晤了。伯爵夫人一出門，僕人一定會散去，門廳裡留一個看門的，不過他一般也回到自己的小屋裡去。您十一點半來，直接上樓梯。要是您在前廳裡遇到人，您就問伯爵夫人在不在家。要是告訴您她不在，那就沒有辦法，您只好回去了。不過您大概不會遇到人。侍女們都待在一個房間裡。從前廳一直往左走，就走到伯爵夫人的臥室。在臥室裡的屏風後面，您會看見兩扇小門：右邊的通書房，伯爵夫人從來不到那裡；左邊的通過道，那邊有一條狹窄的螺旋形樓梯：它通到我的房間。
格爾曼像老虎似的渾身顫動，等待著約定的時間。才晚上十點鐘，他已經站在伯爵夫人府邸前面。天氣十分惡劣，朔風怒號，飄著鵝毛似的濕雪，路燈昏暗，街上闃無一人。偶爾有一個車伕趕著瘦瘠的駑馬慢慢地走過，看看有沒有遲歸的乘客。格爾曼身上只穿一件常禮服站在那裡，對於風雪毫無感覺。伯爵夫人的馬車終於準備好了。格爾曼看見兩個侍僕扶出一個裹著貂皮大衣的駝背的老太太，她的養女身穿單薄的斗篷，頭戴鮮花，跟在她後面一閃而過。車門砰地關上了。馬車在鬆軟的雪地上費力地駛過去。看門人關上大門。窗內的燈光暗了。格爾曼開始在冷落下來的房子周圍徘徊，他走到路燈前，一看表，是十一點二十分。他站在路燈下，眼睛盯著表上的指針，等待剩下的幾分鐘過去。十一點半整，格爾曼走上伯爵夫人府邸的台階，走進燈光通明的門廳。看門人不在。格爾曼跑上樓梯，打開通前廳的門，看見一個僕人坐在燈光下古老而骯髒的手圈椅裡打盹。格爾曼跨著堅定的步子輕輕地從他身旁走過。大廳裡和客廳裡都沒有燈。前廳裡微弱的燈光射到這裡。格爾曼走進臥室。在擺滿古色古香聖像的神龕前，點著一盞金色的小燈。靠糊著中國壁紙的牆邊，對稱地擺著褪色的花緞手圈椅和鍍金剝落、放著羽絨靠墊的沙發，牆上懸掛著兩幅在巴黎由勒勃倫畫的肖像。一張畫的是一個面色紅潤、胖胖的四十來歲的男子，身穿淺綠色制服，佩著星章，另一張畫的是一個年輕美人，生著鷹鉤鼻子，兩鬢的頭髮朝後梳，撲了粉的頭髮上戴一朵玫瑰。每個牆角里都擺滿瓷器的牧女，著名的勒魯阿製造的檯鐘、小盒子、輪盤、扇子以及十八世紀末與蒙哥爾菲埃氣球和梅斯梅爾催眠術同時發明的形形色色的婦女玩的小擺設。格爾曼走到屏風後面。屏風後面放著一張小鐵床。右面有一扇門通書房，左面的另一扇門通過道。格爾曼把門打開，看見一個狹窄的螺旋梯，這是通到可憐的養女的房間去的……但是他扭身走進了黑暗的書房。 　　時間過得很慢。一切都是靜悄悄的。客廳裡的鍾打十二下，各個房間裡也相繼敲了十二點——後來一切重又沉寂下米。格爾曼靠著一隻沒有生火的爐子站著。他很鎮靜，他的心臟跳得很均勻，好像是一個決心去幹一件危險然而是必須去做的事情的人那樣。鍾打了一點，又打了兩點，——他聽到遠遠的馬車聲。一陣不由自主的激動攫住了他。馬車漸漸駛近，停下了。他聽見放下腳踏板的聲音，屋子裡忙碌起來。人們奔跑著，大聲說話，屋子裡亮起來。三個年老的女僕跑進臥室，伯爵夫人半死不活地走進來，癱坐在高背手圈椅裡。格爾曼從縫隙裡看見麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜從他身旁走過。格爾曼聽見她急促地走上樓梯。他心裡似乎感到一陣良心譴責，但是又平靜下來。他已經橫了心。　　伯爵夫人開始對鏡卸妝。女侍給她取下插著玫瑰花的帽子，從她那白髮剪得短短的頭上取下撲了粉的假髮。發針像雨點似的落在她的身旁。用銀線繡的黃色長衣褪落在她的浮腫的腳旁。格爾曼親眼看到了她那令人作嘔的化妝的秘密，最後伯爵夫人只穿著睡衣，戴著睡帽。這身打扮對她的年齡倒比較合適，看上去她就不顯得那麼可怕和難看了。　　像所有上了年紀的人那樣，伯爵夫人也患失眠。她脫了衣服，坐在窗口的高背手圈椅裡，把女僕都打發走了。蠟燭拿走了，房間裡又只剩下一盞小燈。伯爵夫人坐在那裡，臉色蠟黃，松垂的嘴唇翕動著，身子左右搖晃。她的渾濁的眼睛表現出腦子裡什麼都不想。望著她，你會以為這個可怕的老太婆這樣晃動並不是出於她的本意，而是由於身體內部電流的作用。　　突然，這張毫無生氣的臉起了無法形容的變化。嘴唇停止翕動，眼睛有了精神：在伯爵夫人面前站著一個陌生男人。　　「請別害怕，看上帝的分上，別害怕！」他清晰地低聲說。「我無意傷害您，我是來懇求您做一件好事的。」　　老婦人默默地望著他，似乎沒有聽見他的話。格爾曼以為她是個聾子，便俯身湊在她的耳邊，把同樣的話重說了一遍。老婦人還是不作聲。　　「您能夠，」格爾曼接著說，「使我生活幸福，這在您一點不費什麼：我知道，您可以接連猜中三張牌……」　　格爾曼住口了。伯爵夫人似乎明白了對她的要求，她似乎在斟酌怎樣回答。　　「這是開玩笑，」她終於說，「我對您發誓！這是開玩笑！」　　「這沒有什麼玩笑好開，」格爾曼氣憤地說。「您回憶一下恰普利茨基吧，是您幫他翻的本。」　　伯爵夫人顯然被窘住了。她的臉上反映出強烈的內心活動，但是她很快又陷入了原來的麻痺狀態。　　「您能不能，」格爾曼接著說，「給我指出這三張穩贏的牌？」　　伯爵夫人不做聲。格爾曼接著說：　　「您是為誰保守您的秘密呢？為您的孫子嗎？他們不用知道這個秘密也很有錢：他們根本不知道金錢的價值。您的三張牌幫不了敗家子的忙。一個人要是不會珍惜上輩留下的財產，哪怕他作出天大的努力，他終歸要死於貧困。我不是敗家子，我知道金錢來之不易。您的三張牌對我不會是白費的。您說吧！……」　　他住了嘴，惴惴不安地等待她的回答。伯爵夫人沒有做聲，格爾曼下跪了。　　「假如您的心曾懂得過愛的感情，」他說，「假如您記得愛的狂喜，假如您哪怕只有一次在聽到新生兒子啼哭時微笑過一下，假如有某種人類的感情曾在您的胸中跳動過，那我就用妻子、情人，母親——以生活中一切最神聖的感情來懇求您，不要拒絕我的請求！向我公開您的秘密吧！您要它有什麼用呢？……也許，它會造成駭人的罪惡，使人喪失終生的幸福，使人去和魔鬼簽訂協定……您想一想吧：您老了，您活不長了，——我情願讓我的靈魂來承擔您的罪過。只要您把您的秘密告訴我。您想一想吧，一個人的幸福就掌握在您手裡，不單是我，連我的孩子，我的孫子、曾孫都會對您的恩德感激不盡，對待您的恩賜像對待聖物一樣……」　　老婦人一個字也沒有回答。　　格爾曼站了起來。　　「老妖婆！」他咬牙切齒地說，「我只好強迫你回答了……」　　他說著就從衣袋裡拔出手槍。　　伯爵夫人一見手槍，又一次流露出強烈的激動。她搖著頭，舉起一隻手好像要擋住槍彈……隨後就向後倒了下去……一動也不動了。　　「別來這一套，」格爾曼抓住她的手，說，「我最後一次問您：您願不願意告訴我您的三張牌——願意還是不願意？」　　伯爵夫人沒有回答。格爾曼一看，她已經死了


四
　
18＊＊年5月7日　　
一個絲毫沒有道德準則和信仰的人。　　
通信


　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜坐在自己的房間裡，身上還穿著參加舞會的服裝，就陷入深深的沉思。她回到家後，趕緊把睡眼惺忪，不樂意服侍她的使女打發走，說可以自己脫衣服，然後膽戰心驚地走進自己的房間，既希望在那裡看到格爾曼，又希望不要看到他。她一眼就證實他並沒有來，不禁感謝命運阻撓他們會面。她坐下來衣服也不脫，開始回憶在這麼短暫的時間裡竟使她迷戀得這麼深的種種情況。從她第一次在窗口看見這個年輕人算起還不到三個星期，她居然已經跟人家書信往來，並且同意了他和她夜間約會的要求！她只是從他的幾封簽了名的來信上知道他的姓名，她從來沒有跟他說過話，沒有聽見過他的聲音，在這天晚上以前，從來沒有聽說過有關他的情況……真是怪事！就在這天晚間的舞會上，托姆斯基嫌年輕的公爵小姐波利娜不像平日那樣跟他調情，存心要氣氣她，對她表示冷淡，就邀請麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜和他跳那沒完沒了的瑪祖卡舞。他老是取笑她對工兵軍官的偏愛，說他知道的事要比她能夠想像的多得多，他的玩笑有幾句說得那麼擊中要害，使麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜不禁幾次暗忖，他一定知道了她的秘密。　　「這些事您是從哪裡聽來的？」她笑著問。　　「聽您認識的某某人說的，」托姆斯基回答說，「他是一個非常出色的人！」　　「這個非常出色的人到底是誰？」　　「他叫格爾曼。」　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜什麼也沒有回答，但是她的手腳卻變得冰冷了……　　「這個格爾曼，」托姆斯基接著說，「有一張真正的小說中人物的面貌：他的側面像拿破侖，靈魂像靡非斯特 。我想，起碼有三件罪惡壓在他的良心上。您的臉色多麼蒼白！……」　　「我頭痛……格爾曼對您說什麼來著，——他叫什麼名字呀？……」　　「格爾曼很不滿意他的朋友：他說，換了他，他一定不那麼做……我甚至覺得格爾曼自己在轉您的念頭，至少他非常歡喜聽他的朋友對您的充滿愛慕的讚歎……」　　「他是在哪裡看見過我的？」　　「在教堂裡，也許在您散步的時候！……天曉得！說不定是在您的房間，在您睡覺的時候：他是幹得出的……」　　三位女士向他們走來，問「忘卻還是惋惜？」打斷了把麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜弄得心癢難熬的談話。　　被托姆斯基選中的舞伴就是公爵小姐本人。她和他多跳了一圈，又在自己的椅子面前多繞了一圈，趁此和他解釋誤會。托姆斯基回到座位上，已經把格爾曼和麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜都忘掉了。麗莎一心要想恢復被打斷的談話，但是瑪祖卡結束了，老伯爵夫人很快就離去了。　　托姆斯基的話不過是在跳瑪祖卡時隨便說說而已，但是這些話卻深深銘印在好幻想的少女心裡。托姆斯基勾畫的肖像竟和她心中所想像的不謀而合，由於讀了流行小說，這張已經顯得平常的臉竟使她又是害怕，又是著迷。她交叉著裸露的雙臂坐著，仍舊戴著鮮花的頭低垂在袒露的胸前……突然，門打開了，格爾曼走了進來。她戰慄起來……　　「您到哪裡去了？」她吃驚地低聲問。　　「在老伯爵夫人的臥室裡，」格爾曼回答說，「我剛從她那兒來。伯爵夫人死了。」　　「我的天！……您說什麼？……」　　「而且，好像我是她致死的原因。」格爾曼接下去說。　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜瞅了他一眼，她心裡響起了托姆斯基的話：起碼有三件罪惡壓在這個人的良心上！格爾曼坐在靠近她的窗台上，講了全部的經過。　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜膽戰心驚地聽完了他的話。原來，那些充滿熱情的信，那些火樣熱烈的要求，那些大膽執著的追求，這一切都不是愛情！金錢——這才是他的靈魂所如饑似渴地追求的！能夠滿足他的欲壑，能使他得到幸福的不是她！可憐的養女竟成了殺害她的女恩人的兇手和強盜的盲目的幫兇！……她後悔莫及，痛哭起來。格爾曼默默地看著她：他心裡也很痛苦，但是不論這個可憐少女的眼淚，還是她那楚楚可憐的傷心模樣，都打動不了他那冷酷的靈魂。想到死去的老婦人他並不感到良心的譴責。他怕的只是一件事：他指望著賴以發財的秘密失去了，再也找不回來了。　　「您是個魔鬼！」麗莎白.伊幾諾夫娜終於說。　　「我並沒有想弄死她，」格爾曼回答說，「我的手槍裡沒有裝子彈。」　　他們都沉默了。　　早晨來臨，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜吹滅殘燭：慘白的晨曦照亮了她的房間。她擦乾眼淚，抬起眼來望著格爾曼：他坐在窗台上，雙手交叉，凶狠地皺著眉頭。這個姿勢使他和拿破侖的肖像像得出奇。這樣的酷似甚至使麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜吃驚。　　「您怎麼從這裡出去呢？」麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜終於說。「我本來想領您走秘密樓梯，可是這要經過伯爵夫人的臥室，我害怕。」　　「請告訴我怎樣找到這個秘密樓梯。我能出去。」　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜站起來，從五斗櫃裡取出一把鑰匙交給格爾曼，並且詳詳細細地告訴他怎麼走。格爾曼握住她的冰冷的、沒有反應的手，吻了吻她的低垂的頭，就走出去了。　　他走下螺旋樓梯，又走進伯爵夫人的臥室。死去的老婦人坐在那裡僵硬了，神態十分安詳。格爾曼在她面前站住，久久地望著她，似乎要證實這件可怕的事是真的。最後他走進書房，摸到糊牆紙後面的門，就順著黑樓梯走下去，心中思緒萬千。他想，也許在六十年前，有一個年輕的幸運兒，身穿繡金長衣，梳著仙鶴式的髮式，把三角帽按在胸口，就在這個時刻，就順著這座樓梯悄悄地溜進這間臥室。這個幸運兒早已長眠地下，而他那老邁的情婦的心臟今天才停止跳動……　　格爾曼在樓梯下面找到一扇門，用那把鑰匙開了門，穿過一條過道，到了大街上。　


五


這天夜晚，已故的馮巴羅尼斯男爵夫人在我面前出現。
她穿一身白衣服，對我說：「您好，顧問先生。」　　
施維登博格

　　在出事的夜晚之後三天，早上九點鐘，格爾曼動身去修道院，在那裡要為已故伯爵夫人的遺體舉行安魂祈禱。儘管他毫無後悔之意，卻不能完全壓下良心的譴責，它反覆對他說：你是殺害老婦人的兇手！他雖沒有多少真誠的信仰，迷信卻不少。他相信，死去的伯爵夫人會給他的一生帶來災禍，因此決意去參加她的葬禮，祈求她饒恕他。　　教堂裡擠滿了人。格爾曼好不容易從人群中擠過去。靈柩停放在豪華的靈台上，上面覆蓋著天鵝絨棺罩。死者躺在棺材裡，雙手疊放在胸前，頭戴釘花邊的帽子，身穿白緞長衣。四周站著家僕：僕人們身穿肩上有紋章緞帶的黑袍，手捧蠟燭，兒孫和重孫等親屬都身穿重孝。沒有人哭泣，流淚會顯得虛情假意。伯爵夫人已經是風燭殘年，對她的死誰也不會吃驚，她的親屬早已把她看作是老不死。一位年輕的主教致悼詞。他用簡短動人的話闡說了這個有德行的老太太的安寧的死，多少年來她默默地、非常令人感動地修身養性，迎來了一個基督徒的死亡。「司死亡的天使把這個一心想著行善、等待基督降臨的信徒接走了。」演講人說。儀式結束了，悲傷而又合乎禮節。親屬先上前向遺體告別。隨後是許多來賓，他們前來向長期參加他們的無聊玩樂的老太太行禮。他們之後是全體僕人。最後走上前來的是一位年老的貴婦人，死者的同齡人。兩個年輕侍女攙扶著她。她已經不能深深下跪，——她吻了吻夫人的冰冷的手，獨自灑了幾滴老淚。她走後，格爾曼決定走到靈柩跟前。他跪下來，在灑滿杉樹枝的冰冷的地上伏了好一會。最後他站了起來，臉色跟死者一樣蒼白，他走上靈台的台階，又鞠了一躬……這時他覺得死者一隻眼瞇起，帶著嘲笑瞅了他一眼。格爾曼急忙後退，不小心踩空了，咚的一聲仰臉摔倒在地上。人們把他扶起來。在同一時刻，麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜昏倒了，被扶到教堂門外的台階上。這個插曲把肅穆的喪禮擾亂了幾分鐘。來賓中發出一陣低聲的議論，一個瘦削的宮中高級侍從官，死者的近親，湊著他身邊的一個英國人的耳朵說，這個年輕人是她的私生子，英國人聽了冷冷地回答說：哦！　　格爾曼一整天都情緒極為惡劣。他在一家僻靜的小飯館裡吃午飯時，一反自己的習慣，喝了好多酒，希望以此壓下內心的不安。但是酒力反而使他格外煩躁。他回到家裡，衣服也不脫，倒在床上就呼呼大睡了。　　他醒來已經是半夜：月光照亮他的房間。他看了看表：兩點三刻。睡意消失了，他坐在床上，想起了老伯爵夫人的葬禮。　　這時街上有人朝他的窗口張望了一下，立刻走開了。格爾曼一點沒有理會。過了一會，他聽見有人打開前室的門。格爾曼以為是他的勤務兵照例喝得醉醺醺的，夜遊回來了，但是他聽到的是陌生的腳步聲：有人在走路，便鞋發出輕輕的聲音。門打開了，走進來一個穿白衣服的女人。格爾曼以為是自己的老奶娘，正在奇怪她怎麼會深更半夜前來。但是白衣婦人飄然就到了他面前——格爾曼認出了原來是伯爵夫人！　　「我來找你不是出於本意，」她用堅定的聲音說，「但是我奉命來滿足你的請求。三點、七點和Ace可以使你連續贏錢——不過有一個條件，你在一晝夜之內只能押一張牌，不能多，事後一輩子再也不賭。你把我嚇死，我可以饒恕你，條件是你要娶我的養女麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜……」　　說完她悄悄地轉過身去，便鞋發出沙沙的聲音向門口走去，消失了。格爾曼聽見前廳的門砰的一響，又看見有人在窗口朝他望了一望。　　格爾曼好半天不能清醒過來。他走到另一個房間裡。他的勤務兵睡在地上。格爾曼好不容易把他叫醒。勤務兵照例是喝得酩酊大醉：從他嘴裡根本問不出個究竟來。前廳的門鎖著。格爾曼回到房間裡，點起蠟燭，把自己看到的事記下來。　　


六

「等一等再分牌！」　　
「您竟敢對我說等一等分牌？」　　
「大人，我是說了，等一等再分牌！」　　

兩個固定的念頭不能共存在一個人的精神世界裡，如同兩個物體在物質世界裡不能共佔同一個空間一樣。三點、七點、Ace——很快就掩蓋了格爾曼頭腦裡的死去老婦人的形象。三點、七點、Ace—— 一直盤踞在他頭腦裡，還在他嘴裡念叨著。看見一個年輕姑娘，他就說：「她多麼苗條！……真像紅心三點一樣。」有人問他：「現在幾點鐘？」他就回答：「缺五分七點。」看見一個大肚皮的男人，他就想起Ace。三點、七點、Ace——在夢中也跟蹤他，化做形形色色的形狀：三點像一朵盛開的石榴花在他面前怒放，七點像是一座哥特式的大門，Ace是一個其大無比的蜘蛛。他心心唸唸只想著怎樣來利用他用高昂的代價得來的這個秘密。他開始想到退職和旅行。他打算去巴黎公開的賭場，讓中了魔的命運女神拿出寶藏。恰巧有一個機會使他省去了這些麻煩。　　莫斯科成立了一個闊佬賭客的總會，主持人是赫赫有名的切卡林斯基，他賭了一輩子，曾發過幾百萬的大財。他贏了可以收期票，輸了卻付現款。相處的日子久了，賭友們都信任他。他的好客、他的手藝高明的廚師，他的親切的態度和快樂更使他博得公眾的尊敬。他來到了彼得堡。青年們蜂擁而來，為了打牌而忘了舞會：為了法拉昂的誘惑，寧肯犧牲追逐女性的樂趣。納魯莫夫把格爾曼帶去見他。　　他們走過一排豪華的房間，裡面站滿了彬彬有禮的侍僕。有幾位將軍和三級文官在打惠斯特 ，一些年輕人懶洋洋地坐在花緞沙發上吃著冰淇凌，抽著煙斗。客廳裡有二十來個賭客圍著一張長桌坐著，主人坐在桌後坐莊。主人大約六十來歲，外表令人肅然起敬，滿頭銀髮，豐滿的臉容光煥發，顯得非常善良，雙目有神，永遠帶著笑意。納魯莫夫把格爾曼介紹給他。切卡林斯基親切地和他握手，請他不必客氣，隨後又繼續分牌。　　這一局打了很久。牌桌上有三十多張牌。切卡林斯基每分完一次牌都要停下來記下輸掉的錢，讓賭客有時間考慮，同時很有禮貌地聽取他們的要求，更為有禮貌地弄平心不在焉的賭客多折的牌角。一局終於完了。切卡林斯基洗了牌，準備再次分牌。　　「請讓我押一張牌，」格爾曼從一個在那裡賭錢的胖紳士背後伸過手來，說。切卡林斯基微笑了一下，默默地點頭表示遵命。納魯莫夫笑著祝賀格爾曼開了長期的賭戒，並祝他有個幸運的開端。　　「來吧！」格爾曼用粉筆在自己的牌下寫下賭注的數目，說。　　「請問是多少？」莊家瞇起眼睛，問道，「請原諒，我看不清楚。」　　「四萬七千。」格爾曼答道。　　聽到這話，所有的人一下子都轉過頭來，所有的眼睛都盯著格爾曼。「他瘋啦！」納魯莫夫心裡想。　　「請允許我奉告，」切卡林斯基始終帶著微笑說，「您下的注太大了：這裡還沒有人在一張牌上下的注超過二百七十五的呢。」　　「怎麼？」格爾曼反問道，「您打不打算贏我的牌？」　　切卡林斯基還是恭順地行禮，表示遵命。　　「我只是要奉告，」他說，「蒙諸位相信我，我坐莊只能來現錢。從我來說，我當然相信您的話，但是為了賭博的規矩和計算方便，請把錢放在牌上。」　　格爾曼從口袋裡掏出鈔票交給切卡林斯基，切卡林斯基很快地看了一眼，便放在格爾曼的牌上。　　他開始分牌。右邊翻出來的是九點，左邊翻出三點。　　「我贏了！」格爾曼翻出自己的牌，說。　　賭客中響起一陣低語。切卡林斯基皺了皺眉頭，又恢復了笑容。　　「您就要取錢嗎？」他問格爾曼。　　「勞駕。」　　切卡林斯基從口袋裡取出幾張鈔票，立刻把錢付清。格爾曼接過錢，便離開了賭桌。納魯莫夫被弄得摸不著頭腦。格爾曼喝了一杯檸檬水，就回家了。　　第二天晚上，他又到了切卡林斯基那裡。主人在分牌。格爾曼走到牌桌前，賭客們馬上給他讓出一個位子。切卡林斯基親切地對他點了點頭。　　格爾曼等到下一局開始，擺下一張牌，把自己的四萬七和昨天贏來的錢都押在牌上。　　切卡林斯基開始分牌。右邊翻出來是十一點，左邊是七點。　　格爾曼翻開牌來：七點。　　大家都驚叫起來。切卡林斯基顯然著慌了。他數了九萬四千遞給格爾曼。格爾曼若無其事地接了錢，立即離去。　　下一天晚上，格爾曼又來到牌桌旁。大家都在等他。幾位將軍和三級文官放下惠斯特不打，都來看這場不尋常的賭博。青年軍官們從沙發上跳起來，所有的侍者都聚集在客廳裡。人家都圍住格爾曼。其他的賭客都不下注，焦急地等著看結果。格爾曼站在牌桌旁，準備單獨和臉色發白、但還是面帶微笑的切卡林斯基決一勝負。兩人各自拆開一副牌。切卡林斯基洗了牌。格爾曼錯了牌，取出一張牌，把一疊鈔票押在上面。這就像是一場決鬥。周圍鴉雀無聲。　　切卡林斯基開始分牌，他的手在發抖。右邊翻出是一張皇后，左邊是Ace。　　「Ace贏了！」格爾曼說著翻開自己的牌。　　「您的皇后輸了。」切卡林斯基態度和藹地說。　　格爾曼顫抖了一下：果然，他的牌不是Ace，而是黑桃皇后。他不相信自己的眼睛，他不明白他怎麼會抽錯了牌。　　在這一剎那，他覺得黑桃皇后瞇起眼睛冷笑了一下。這種不尋常的酷似使他震驚……　　「老太婆！」他嚇得叫了起來。　　切卡林斯基把贏到的鈔票摟到跟前。格爾曼呆呆地站著。當他離開牌桌的時候，大伙都熱烈地談論起來。「賭得真帶勁！」賭客們說。切卡林斯基又洗牌，牌局照常進行。　

　
結 局　　

格爾曼瘋了！他住在奧布霍夫醫院第十七號病房裡，人家問什麼他都不回答，嘴裡很快地念叨著：「三點、七點、Ace！三點，七點、皇后！……」　　麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜嫁了個非常可愛的年輕人，他在某處供職，財產相當可觀：他是老伯爵夫人從前的管家的兒子。麗莎白.伊凡諾夫娜收養了一個窮親戚的姑娘。　　托姆斯基升為騎兵大尉，娶了波利娜公爵小姐。