he added to me, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself for
traducing your own country!"
"I beg pardon," I said. "Yet it would be difficult to say
which is the worst of the two--Russian ineptitude or the German
method of growing rich through honest toil."
"What an extraordinary idea," cried the General.
"And what a RUSSIAN idea!" added the Frenchman.
I smiled, for I was rather glad to have a quarrel with them.
"I would rather live a wandering life in tents," I cried,
"than bow the knee to a German idol!"
"To WHAT idol?" exclaimed the General, now seriously angry.
"To the German method of heaping up riches. I have not been
here very long, but I can tell you that what I have seen and
verified makes my Tartar blood boil. Good Lord! I wish for no
virtues of that kind. Yesterday I went for a walk of about ten
versts; and, everywhere I found that things were even as we read
of them in good German picture-books -- that every house has its
'Fater,' who is horribly beneficent and extraordinarily
honourable. So honourable is he that it is dreadful to have
anything to do with him; and I cannot bear people of that sort.
Each such 'Fater' has his family, and in the evenings they
read improving books aloud. Over their roof-trees there murmur
elms and chestnuts; the sun has sunk to his rest; a stork is
roosting on the gable; and all is beautifully poetic and
touching. Do not be angry, General. Let me tell you something
that is even more touching than that. I can remember how, of an
evening, my own father, now dead, used to sit under the lime
trees in his little garden, and to read books aloud to myself
and my mother. Yes, I know how things ought to be done. Yet
every German family is bound to slavery and to submission to its
'Fater.' They work like oxen, and amass wealth like Jews.
Suppose the 'Fater' has put by a certain number of gulden
which he hands over to his eldest son, in order that the said
son may acquire a trade or a small plot of land. Well, one
result is to deprive the daughter of a dowry, and so leave her
among the unwedded. For the same reason, the parents will have
to sell the younger son into bondage or the ranks of the army,
in order that he may earn more towards the family capital. Yes,
such things ARE done, for I have been making inquiries on the
subject. It is all done out of sheer rectitude--out of a
rectitude which is magnified to the point of the younger son
believing that he has been RIGHTLY sold, and that it is simply
idyllic for the victim to rejoice when he is made over into
pledge. What more have I to tell? Well, this--that matters bear
just as hardly upon the eldest son. Perhaps he has his Gretchen
to whom his heart is bound; but he cannot marry her, for the
reason that he has not yet amassed sufficient gulden. So, the
pair wait on in a mood of sincere and virtuous expectation, and
smilingly deposit themselves in pawn the while. Gretchen's
cheeks grow sunken, and she begins to wither; until at last,
after some twenty years, their substance has multiplied, and
sufficient gulden have been honourably and virtuously
accumulated. Then the 'Fater' blesses his forty-year-old heir and
the thirty-five-year-old Gretchen with the sunken bosom and the
scarlet nose; after which he bursts, into tears, reads the pair
a lesson on morality, and dies. In turn the eldest son becomes a
virtuous 'Fater,' and the old story begins again. In fifty or
sixty years' time the grandson of the original 'Fater' will
have amassed a considerable sum; and that sum he will hand over
to, his son, and the latter to HIS son, and so on for several
generations; until at length there will issue a Baron
Rothschild, or a 'Hoppe and Company,' or the devil knows what!
Is it not a beautiful spectacle--the spectacle of a century or
two of inherited labour, patience, intellect, rectitude,
character, perseverance, and calculation, with a stork sitting
on the roof above it all? What is more; they think there can
never be anything better than this; wherefore, from their point
of view they begin to judge the rest of the world, and to
censure all who are at fault--that is to say, who are not exactly
like themselves. Yes, there you have it in a nutshell. For my
own part, I would rather grow fat after the Russian manner, or
squander my whole substance at roulette. I have no wish to be
'Hoppe and Company' at the end of five generations. I want the
money for MYSELF, for in no way do I look upon my personality
as necessary to, or meet to be given over to, capital. I may be
wrong, but there you have it. Those are MY views."
"How far you may be right in what you have said I do not know,"
remarked the General moodily; "but I DO know that you are
becoming an insufferable farceur whenever you are given the
least chance."
As usual, he left his sentence unfinished. Indeed, whenever he
embarked upon anything that in the least exceeded the limits of
daily small-talk, he left unfinished what he was saying. The
Frenchman had listened to me contemptuously, with a slight
protruding of his eyes; but, he could not have understood very
much of my harangue. As for Polina, she had looked on with
serene indifference. She seemed to have heard neither my voice
nor any other during the progress of the meal.
V
Yes, she had been extraordinarily meditative. Yet, on leaving
the table, she immediately ordered me to accompany her for a
walk. We took the children with us, and set out for the fountain
in the Park.
I was in such an irritated frame of mind that in rude and abrupt
fashion I blurted out a question as to "why our Marquis de
Griers had ceased to accompany her for strolls, or to speak to
her for days together."
"Because he is a brute," she replied in rather a curious way.
It was the first time that I had heard her speak so of De
Griers: consequently, I was momentarily awed into silence by this
expression of resentment.
"Have you noticed, too, that today he is by no means on good
terms with the General?" I went on.
"Yes-- and I suppose you want to know why," she replied with dry
captiousness. "You are aware, are you not, that the General is
mortgaged to the Marquis, with all his property? Consequently,
if the General's mother does not die, the Frenchman will become
the absolute possessor of everything which he now holds only in
pledge."
"Then it is really the case that everything is mortgaged? I
have heard rumours to that effect, but was unaware how far they
might be true."
"Yes, they ARE true. What then?"
"Why, it will be a case of 'Farewell, Mlle. Blanche,'" I
remarked; "for in such an event she would never become Madame
General. Do you know, I believe the old man is so much in love
with her that he will shoot himself if she should throw him
over. At his age it is a dangerous thing to fall in love."
"Yes, something, I believe, WILL happen to him," assented
Polina thoughtfully.
"And what a fine thing it all is!" I continued. "Could anything
be more abominable than the way in which she has agreed to marry
for money alone? Not one of the decencies has
been observed; the whole affair has taken place without the
least ceremony. And as for the grandmother, what could be more
comical, yet more dastardly, than the sending of telegram after
telegram to know if she is dead? What do you think of it, Polina
Alexandrovna?"
"Yes, it is very horrible," she interrupted with a shudder.
"Consequently, I am the more surprised that YOU should be so
cheerful. What are YOU so pleased about? About the fact that you
have gone and lost my money?"
"What? The money that you gave me to lose? I told you I should
never win for other people--least of all for you. I obeyed you
simply because you ordered me to; but you must not blame me for
the result. I warned you that no good would ever come of it. You
seem much depressed at having lost your money. Why do you need
it so greatly?"
"Why do YOU ask me these questions?"
"Because you promised to explain matters to me. Listen. I am
certain that, as soon as ever I 'begin to play for myself' (and I
still have 120 gulden left), I shall win. You can then take of
me what you require."
She made a contemptuous grimace.
"You must not be angry with me," I continued, "for making such
a proposal. I am so conscious of being only a nonentity in your
eyes that you need not mind accepting money from me. A gift from
me could not possibly offend you. Moreover, it was I who lost
your gulden."
She glanced at me, but, seeing that I was in an irritable,
sarcastic mood, changed the subject.
"My affairs cannot possibly interest you," she said. Still,
if you DO wish to know, I am in debt. I borrowed some
money, and must pay it back again. I have a curious, senseless
I cannot tell, but I do think so, and with some assurance.
Perhaps it is because of that assurance that I now find myself
without any other resource."
"Or perhaps it is because it is so NECESSARY for you to win. It
is like a drowning man catching at a straw. You yourself will
agree that, unless he were drowning he would not mistake a straw
for the trunk of a tree."
Polina looked surprised.
"What?" she said. "Do not you also hope something from it?
Did you not tell me again and again, two weeks ago, that you
were certain of winning at roulette if you played here? And did
you not ask me not to consider you a fool for doing so? Were you
joking? You cannot have been, for I remember that you spoke with
a gravity which forbade the idea of your jesting."
"True," I replied gloomily. "I always felt certain that I
should win. Indeed, what you say makes me ask myself--Why have my
absurd, senseless losses of today raised a doubt in my mind?
Yet I am still positive that, so soon as ever I begin to play
for myself, I shall infallibly win."
"And why are you so certain?"
"To tell the truth, I do not know. I only know that I must
win--that it is the one resource I have left. Yes, why do I feel
so assured on the point?"
"Perhaps because one cannot help winning if one is fanatically
certain of doing so."
"Yet I dare wager that you do not think me capable of serious
feeling in the matter?"
"I do not care whether you are so or not," answered Polina with
calm indifference. "Well, since you ask me, I DO doubt your
ability to take anything seriously. You are capable of worrying,
but not deeply. You are too ill-regulated and unsettled a person
for that. But why do you want money? Not a single one of the reasons
which you have given can be looked upon as serious."
"By the way," I interrupted, "you say you want to pay off a
debt. It must be a large one. Is it to the Frenchman?"
"What do you mean by asking all these questions? You are very
clever today. Surely you are not drunk?"
"You know that you and I stand on no ceremony, and that
sometimes I put to you very plain questions. I repeat that I am
your, slave--and slaves cannot be shamed or offended."
"You talk like a child. It is always possible to comport
oneself with dignity. If one has a quarrel it ought to elevate
rather than to degrade one."
"A maxim straight from the copybook! Suppose I CANNOT comport
myself with dignity. By that I mean that, though I am a man of
self-respect, I am unable to carry off a situation properly. Do
you know the reason? It is because we Russians are too richly and
multifariously gifted to be able at once to find the proper mode
of expression. It is all a question of mode. Most of us are so
bounteously endowed with intellect as to require also a spice of
genius to choose the right form of behaviour. And genius is
lacking in us for the reason that so little genius at all
exists. It belongs only to the French--though a few other
Europeans have elaborated their forms so well as to be able to
figure with extreme dignity, and yet be wholly undignified
persons. That is why, with us, the mode is so all-important. The
Frenchman may receive an insult-- a real, a venomous insult: yet,
he will not so much as frown. But a tweaking of the nose he
cannot bear, for the reason that such an act is an infringement
of the accepted, of the time-hallowed order of decorum. That is
why our good ladies are so fond of Frenchmen--the Frenchman's
manners, they say, are perfect! But in my opinion there is no
such thing as a Frenchman's manners. The Frenchman is only a
bird--the coq gaulois. At the same time, as I am not a woman, I
do not properly understand the question. Cocks may be excellent
birds. If I am wrong you must stop me. You ought to stop and
correct me more often when I am speaking to you, for I am too
apt to say everything that is in my head.
"You see, I have lost my manners. I agree that I have none, nor yet
any dignity. I will tell you why. I set no store upon such things.
Everything in me has undergone a cheek. You know the reason. I have not a
single human thought in my head. For a long while I have been
ignorant of what is going on in the world--here or in Russia. I
have been to Dresden, yet am completely in the dark as to what
Dresden is like. You know the cause of my obsession. I have no
hope now, and am a mere cipher in your eyes; wherefore, I tell
matter of indifference.
"Why or how I have come to love you I do not know. It may be that
you are not altogether fair to look upon. Do you know, I am ignorant
even as to what your face is like. In all probability, too, your heart
is not comely, and it is possible that your mind is wholly ignoble."
"And because you do n
ot believe in my nobility of soul you
think to purchase me with money?" she said.
"WHEN have I thought to do so?" was my reply.
"You are losing the thread of the argument. If you do not wish
to purchase me, at all events you wish to purchase my respect."
"Not at all. I have told you that I find it difficult to
explain myself. You are hard upon me. Do not be angry at my
chattering. You know why you ought not to be angry with me--that
I am simply an imbecile. However, I do not mind if you ARE
angry. Sitting in my room, I need but to think of you, to
imagine to myself the rustle of your dress, and at once I fall
almost to biting my hands. Why should you be angry with me?
Because I call myself your slave? Revel, I pray you, in my
slavery--revel in it. Do you know that sometimes I could kill
you?--not because I do not love you, or am jealous of you, but,
because I feel as though I could simply devour you... You are
laughing!"
"No, I am not," she retorted. "But I order you, nevertheless,
to be silent."
She stopped, well nigh breathless with anger. God knows, she may
not have been a beautiful woman, yet I loved to see her come to
a halt like this, and was therefore, the more fond of arousing
her temper. Perhaps she divined this, and for that very reason
gave way to rage. I said as much to her.
"What rubbish!" she cried with a shudder.
"I do not care," I continued. "Also, do you know that it is
not safe for us to take walks together? Often I have a feeling
that I should like to strike you, to disfigure you, to strangle
you. Are you certain that it will never come to that? You are
driving me to frenzy. Am I afraid of a scandal, or of your
anger? Why should I fear your anger? I love without hope, and
know that hereafter I shall love you a thousand times more. If
ever I should kill you I should have to kill myself too. But I
shall put off doing so as long as possible, for I wish to
continue enjoying the unbearable pain which your coldness gives
me. Do you know a very strange thing? It is that, with every
day, my love for you increases--though that would seem to be
almost an impossibility. Why should I not become a fatalist?
Remember how, on the third day that we ascended the
Shlangenberg, I was moved to whisper in your ear: 'Say but the
word, and I will leap into the abyss.' Had you said it, I should
have leapt. Do you not believe me?"
"What stupid rubbish!" she cried.
"I care not whether it be wise or stupid," I cried in return.
"I only know that in your presence I must speak, speak, speak.
Therefore, I am speaking. I lose all conceit when I am with you,
and everything ceases to matter."
"Why should I have wanted you to leap from the Shlangenberg?"
she said drily, and (I think) with wilful offensiveness. "THAT
would have been of no use to me."
"Splendid!" I shouted. "I know well that you must have used
the words 'of no use' in order to crush me. I can see through
you. 'Of no use,' did you say? Why, to give pleasure is ALWAYS
of use; and, as for barbarous, unlimited power--even if it be only
over a fly--why, it is a kind of luxury. Man is a despot by
nature, and loves to torture. You, in particular, love to do so."
I remember that at this moment she looked at me in a peculiar
way. The fact is that my face must have been expressing all the
maze of senseless, gross sensations which were seething within
me. To this day I can remember, word for word, the conversation
as I have written it down. My eyes were suffused with blood, and
the foam had caked itself on my lips. Also, on my honour I swear
that, had she bidden me cast myself from the summit of the
Shlangenberg, I should have done it. Yes, had she bidden me in
jest, or only in contempt and with a spit in my face, I should
have cast myself down.
"Oh no! Why so? I believe you," she said, but in such a
manner--in the manner of which, at times, she was a mistress--and
with such a note of disdain and viperish arrogance in her tone,