The Queen of Spades, and other stories. Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin

Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories were told. You know that he passed for a sort of Wandering Jew, and that he was said to possess an elixir of life and the philosopher's stone.

      "Some people laughed at him as a charlatan. Casanova, in his memoirs, says that he was a spy. However that may be, in spite of the mystery of his life, St. Germain was much sought after in good society, and was really an agreeable man. Even to this day my grandmother has preserved a genuine affection for him, and she becomes quite angry when anyone speaks of him with disrespect.

      "It occurred to her that he might be able to advance the sum of which she was in need, and she wrote a note begging him to call. The old magician came at once, and found her plunged in the deepest despair. In two or three words she told him everything; related to him her misfortune and the cruelty of her husband, adding that she had no hope except in his friendship and his obliging disposition.

      "'Madam,' said St. Germain, after a few moments' reflection, 'I could easily advance you the money you want, but I am sure that you would have no rest until you had repaid me, and I do not want to get you out of one trouble in order to place you in another. There is another way of settling the matter. You must regain the money you have lost.'

      "'But, my dear friend,' answered my grandmother, 'I have already told you that I have nothing left.'

      "'That does not matter,' answered St. Germain. 'Listen to me, and I will explain.'

      "He then communicated to her a secret which any of you would, I am sure, give a good deal to possess."

      All the young officers gave their full attention. Tomski stopped to light his Turkish pipe, swallowed a mouthful of smoke, and then went on.

      "That very evening my grandmother went to Versailles to play at the Queen's table. The Duke of Orleans held the bank. My grandmother invented a little story by way of excuse for not having paid her debt, and then sat down at the table, and began to stake. She took three cards. She won with the first; doubled her stake on the second, and won again; doubled on the third, and still won."

      "Mere luck!" said one of the young officers.

      "What a tale!" cried Hermann.

      "Were the cards marked?" said a third.

      "I don't think so," replied Tom ski, gravely.

      "And you mean to say," exclaimed Narumoff, "that you have a grandmother who knows the names of three winning cards, and you have never made her tell them to you?"

      "That is the very deuce of it," answered Tomski. "She had three sons, of whom my father was one; all three were determined gamblers, and not one of them was able to extract her secret from her, though it would have been of immense advantage to them, and to me also. Listen to what my uncle told me about it, Count Ivan Ilitch, and he told me on his word of honour.

      "Tchaplitzki—the one you remember who died in poverty after devouring millions—lost one day, when he was a young man, to Zoritch about three hundred thousand roubles. He was in despair. My grandmother, who had no mercy for the extravagance of young men, made an exception—I do not know why—in favour of Tchaplitzki. She gave him three cards, telling him to play them one after the other, and exacting from him at the same time his word of honour that he would never afterwards touch a card as long as he lived. Accordingly Tchaplitzki went to Zoritch and asked for his revenge. On the first card he staked fifty thousands rubles. He won, doubled the stake, and won again. Continuing his system he ended by gaining more than he had lost.

      "But it is six o'clock! It is really time to go to bed."

      Everyone emptied his glass and the party broke up.

      CHAPTER II.

      The old Countess Anna Fedotovna was in her dressing-room, seated before her looking-glass. Three maids were in attendance. One held her pot of rouge, another a box of black pins, a third an enormous lace cap, with flaming ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest pretence to beauty, but she preserved all the habits of her youth. She dressed in the style of fifty years before, and gave as much time and attention to her toilet as a fashionable beauty of the last century. Her companion was working at a frame in a corner of the window.

      "SEATED BEFORE HER LOOKING-GLASS."

      "Good morning, grandmother," said the young officer, as he entered the dressing-room. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Lise. Grandmother, I have come to ask you a favour."

      "What is it, Paul?"

      "I want to introduce to you one of my friends, and to ask you to give him an invitation to your ball."

      "Bring him to the ball and introduce him to me there. Did you go yesterday to the Princess's?"

      "Certainly. It was delightful! We danced until five o'clock in the morning. Mademoiselle Eletzki was charming."

      "My dear nephew, you are really not difficult to please. As to beauty, you should have seen her grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna. But she must be very old the Princess Daria Petrovna!"

      "How do you mean old?" cried Tomski thoughtlessly; "she died seven years ago."

      The young lady who acted as companion raised her head and made a sign to the officer, who then remembered that it was an understood thing to conceal from the Princess the death of any of her contemporaries. He bit his lips. The Countess, however, was not in any way disturbed on hearing that her old friend was no longer in this world.

      "Dead!" she said, "and I never knew it! We were maids of honour in the same year, and when we were presented, the Empress'"—and the old Countess related for the hundredth time an anecdote of her young days. "Paul," she said, as she finished her story, "help me to get up. Lisaveta, where is my snuff-box?"

      And, followed by the three maids, she went behind a great screen to finish her toilet. Tomski was now alone with the companion.

      "Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to madame?" asked Lisaveta.

      "Narumoff. Do you know him?"

      "No. Is he in the army?"

      "Yes."

      "In the Engineers?"

      "No, in the Horse Guards. Why did you think he was in the Engineers?"

      The young lady smiled, but made no answer.

      "Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me a new novel; no matter what. Only see that it is not in the style of the present day."

      "What style would you like, grandmother?"

      "A novel in which the hero strangles neither his father nor his mother, and in which no one[Pg 27]

       [Pg 28] gets drowned. Nothing frightens me so much as the idea of getting drowned."

      PAUL AND LISAVETA.

      "But how is it possible to find you such a book? Do you want it in Russian?"

      "Are there any novels in Russian? However, send me something or other. You won't forget?"

      "I will not forget, grandmother. I am in a great hurry. Good-bye, Lisaveta. What made you fancy Narumoff was in the Engineers?" and Tomski took his departure.

      Lisaveta, left alone, took out her embroidery, and sat down close to the window. Immediately afterwards, in the street, at the corner of a neighbouring house, appeared a young officer. The sight of him made the companion blush to her ears. She lowered her head, and almost concealed it in the canvas. At this moment the Counters returned, fully dressed.

      "Lisaveta," she said "have the horses put in; we will go out for a drive."

      Lisaveta rose from her chair, and began to arrange her embroidery.

      "Well,