‘Why are you so sure?’ she asked, offended. ‘Do you think that Death could not choose me? That I am unworthy to be her lover?’
He sighed.
‘Ah indeed, our Russian soil is not yet ready for Mr Prospero’s teachings, that much is clear from basic grammar. What was that you just said? “Her lover”. That smacks of perversion.’
Columbine realised that he was trying to cheer her up and she attempted to smile, but it came out forced.
Genji repeated what he had said, speaking in a perfectly serious voice.
‘Don’t be afraid. You won’t have to drink poison, because I am certain to land on the p-precious skull.’
‘But you’re afraid yourself!’ she guessed, and her own fear immediately receded to make way for gloating. ‘So much for your desperate personality – you’re afraid too! You’re only playing the part of a superman, but actually you’re afraid of the end, just like everyone else.’
Genji shrugged.
‘I t-told you about my special relationship with Fortune.’
And he walked away.
Meanwhile everything was ready for the ritual.
The Doge raised one hand in the air, calling the aspirants to silence. He was holding the small ball between his fore-finger and thumb and it sparkled and flashed like a bright little golden star.
‘And so, ladies and gentlemen. Who feels ready? Who is the first?’
Genji immediately threw up his hand, but his rivals’ response was more energetic.
Caliban and Rosencrantz, Columbine’s timid admirer, exclaimed in chorus: ‘Me! Me!’
The bookkeeper glared at his rival as if he wanted to tear him to pieces. But Rosencrantz gave Columbine a haughty smile and was rewarded with a gentle smile of approval.
Neither they nor Prospero had noticed Genji’s reserved gesture.
‘Boy!’ Caliban fumed. ‘How dare you? I’m first! I’m older, and I’ve been a member of the club for longer!’
But the quiet little German lowered his head like a bull and was obviously not prepared to give way.
Then Caliban appealed to the Doge.
‘What is all this, Teacher? A Russian can’t breathe in his own country any longer! Whichever way you spit, there’s nothing but Germans and Polacks and Yids and Caucasians! And they not only prevent us from living, they even try to jump the queue to the next world! You decide for us!’
Prospero said sternly: ‘You should be ashamed, Caliban. Surely you do not think that the Eternal Beloved attaches any importance to nonsensical trifles such as nationality or creed? As punishment for your rudeness and impatience you shall be second, after Rosencrantz.’
The former ship’s bookkeeper stamped his foot angrily, but he didn’t dare to argue.
‘I beg your pardon,’ Genji put in, ‘but I raised my hand even before these gentlemen put in their bids.’
‘This is not an auction at which you can signal with gestures,’ the Doge snapped. ‘You should have stated your intention out loud. You will be third. If, that is, your turn comes.’
That was the end of the discussion. Columbine noticed that Genji was very annoyed and even slightly alarmed. She recalled the threat he had made the day before to disband the club of ‘Lovers of Death’ and wondered how he could do it. After all, the aspirants didn’t meet here under compulsion.
Rosencrantz took the ball from the Doge, looked at it closely and suddenly crossed himself. Columbine was so startled by this unexpected gesture that she gasped in compassion. The Baltic German span the roulette wheel and then played a trick that was entirely unlike him: looking straight at his young female sympathiser, he gave the ball a quick kiss before tossing it resolutely on to the rim of the wheel.
While it was spinning – and it went on for an eternity – Columbine moved her lips in a prayer to Death, Fate and God (she did not know whose) for the boy’s throw not to land in the fatal pocket.
‘Twenty-eight,’ Prospero announced dispassionately and everyone sighed in chorus.
Pale-faced Rosencrantz declared with dignity: ‘Schade.’2
He walked away from the wheel. He didn’t look at Columbine any more, evidently feeing that he had already made enough of an impression. And in all honesty, he had. She thought that desperate kiss had made Rosencrantz look terribly sweet. But alas, Columbine’s heart belonged to another.
‘Come on, give me that,’ Caliban said impatiently, grabbing the ball. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to be lucky.’
He spat three times over his left shoulder, span the roulette wheel with all his strength and tossed the little ball so that it went skipping across the pockets and almost flew over the edge.
Everybody froze as they watched the spinning wheel gradually slow down. When its impetus was spent, the ball landed on the skull! A howl of triumph erupted from the bookkeeper’s chest, but the next moment the little golden sphere tumbled across the dividing line as if attracted by some strange force, and settled in the next pocket.
Someone giggled hysterically – Columbine thought it was Petya. Caliban stood there as if he had been struck by lightning.
Then he croaked, ‘I’m not forgiven! I’m rejected!’ And he dashed towards the door, sobbing desolately.
Prospero sighed and said: ‘As you can see, Death informs us of her will unambiguously. Well now, would you care to try your luck?’
The question was addressed to Genji, who nodded politely and performed the necessary procedure quickly and efficiently, with no affectation: he span the roulette wheel gently, casually dropped in the ball and then didn’t even watch it, but looked at the Doge.
‘The skull!’ squealed the Lioness.
‘Ha! That’s quite a trick!’ Gdlevsky declared in a ringing voice.
Then everyone started shouting and talking at once and Columbine involuntarily groaned: ‘No!’
She didn’t understand why herself.
No, perhaps she did.
This man whom she had only known for such a short time radiated an aura of calm, confident strength. When she was with him the world somehow felt bright and clear, it was if she were transformed from Columbine, who had strayed into the dark wings of the stage, back into the old Masha Mironova. But there was clearly no way back – Genji’s fatal throw was the proof of that.
‘Please accept my congratulations,’ Prospero said solemnly. ‘You are a lucky man and we all envy you. Goodbye until tomorrow, my friends. Let us go, Genji.’
The Doge turned away and walked slowly through into the next room, leaving the doors open.
Before he followed him, Genji turned towards Columbine and smiled – as if he were trying to comfort her.
But he failed.
She ran out into the street, choking on her sobs.
III. From the ‘Agents’ Reports’ File
To His Honour Lieutenant-Colonel Besikov
(Private and confidential)
Dear Lieutenant-Colonel,
An entirely new side has been revealed to the story of the ‘Lovers of Death’ and the part played by the Doge in all of these events.
I am writing this letter at night, with recent impressions still fresh in my mind. I have just returned from the Doge’s apartment, where I was witness to truly astounding events. Oh, how easy it is to be mistaken about people!
I beg your pardon for a certain degree of incoherence – I am still very excited. Let me try to set everything out in the correct order.
Today the society resumed its regular meetings, which had been interrupted by the disappearance of the medium. I must confess that I had expected the loss of our Vestal Virgin to throw the Doge into disarray and deprive him of his most dangerous weapon, but he has proved extremely enterprising and inventive. The substitute that he has found for spiritualism is brilliantly simple: a roulette wheel on which one of the divisions is marked with a skull and crossbones. If anyone lands on this grim symbol of death, he has to drink poison prepared by the Doge in person.