“Eh, lies, lies! stake it! Don’t wag your tongue! I know what I’m doing.” Grandmother was even shaking with frenzy.
“According to the rules, you’re not allowed to stake more than twelve friedrichs d’or at a time on zéro, grandmother—so that’s what I’m staking.”
“How not allowed? You wouldn’t be lying, would you? Moosieu, moosieu!” she began nudging the croupier, who was sitting just to her left and preparing to spin, “combien zéro? douze? douze?”[32]
I hastened to explain her question in French.
“Oui, madame,” the croupier confirmed politely, “just as no single stake may exceed four thousand florins at a time, according to the rules,” he added in explanation.
“Well, no help for it, stake twelve.”
“Le jeu est fait! ”[33] cried the croupier.
The wheel spun, and thirteen came up. We lost!
“Again! again! again! stake again!” cried grandmother. I no longer objected and, shrugging my shoulders, staked another twelve friedrichs d’or. The wheel spun for a long time. Grandmother simply trembled as she watched it. “Does she really think she’ll win again on zéro?” I thought, looking at her in astonishment. A decided conviction of winning shone in her face, an unfailing expectation that there was just about to be a cry of “Zéro! ” The ball jumped into the groove.
“Zéro! ” cried the croupier.
“So there!!!” grandmother turned to me in furious triumph.
I myself was a gambler; I felt it that same moment. My hands and feet were trembling, my head throbbed. Of course, it was a rare case that zéro should pop up three times in some ten turns; but there was nothing especially surprising about it. I myself had witnessed, two days ago, how zéro came up three times in a row, and one of the players, who zealously noted down all the turns on papers, observed aloud that no longer ago than the previous day that same zéro had come up just once in a whole twenty-four hours.
As grandmother had won the most significant sum, they paid her with particular attention and deference. She was to receive exactly four hundred and twenty friedrichs d’or, that is, four thousand florins and twenty friedrichs d’or. She was given the twenty friedrichs d’or in gold and the four thousand in banknotes.
This time grandmother did not call Potapych; she was otherwise occupied. She didn’t even nudge me or tremble outwardly. She trembled—if it’s possible to put it so—inwardly. She was all concentrated on something, aiming at it:
“Alexei Ivanovich! he said one can stake only four thousand florins a time? Here, take and put this whole four thousand on red,” grandmother decided.
It was useless to try talking her out of it. The wheel spun.
“Rouge! ” announced the croupier.
Again a win of four thousand florins, meaning eight in all. “Give me four here, and put four on red again,” grandmother commanded.
I staked four thousand again.
“Rouge! ” the croupier announced once more.
“A total of twelve! Give it all here. Pour the gold here, into this purse, and put away the banknotes.
“Enough! Home! Roll on!”
CHAPTER XI
THE CHAIR WAS ROLLED to the door at the other end of the room. Grandmother was beaming. All our people crowded around her at once with congratulations. However eccentric grandmother’s behavior was, her triumph covered up a lot, and the general no longer feared compromising himself in public by being related to such an odd woman. With a condescending and familiarly cheerful smile, as if placating a child, he congratulated grandmother. However, he was evidently struck, as were all the spectators. The people around were talking and pointing at grandmother. Many walked past her in order to get a closer look. Mr. Astley, standing to one side, was talking about her with two Englishmen of his acquaintance. Several majestic spectators, ladies, gazed at her as at some wonder, with majestic perplexity. Des Grieux simply dissolved in smiles and congratulations.
“Quelle victoire! ”[34] he kept saying.
“Mais, madame, c’était du feu! ”[35] Mlle Blanche added with a flirtatious smile.
“Yes, ma’am, I just up and won twelve thousand florins! Twelve, nothing, what about the gold? With the gold it comes out to nearly thirteen. How much is that in our money? Some six thousand, eh?”
I reported that it was over seven and, with the exchange what it was, maybe even eight.
“No joking, eight thousand! And you dunderheads sit here and do nothing! Potapych, Marfa, did you see?”
“Dearie, but how can it be? Eight thousand roubles!” Marfa exclaimed, twining about.
“Take, here’s five gold pieces from me for each of you, here!”
Potapych and Marfa rushed to kiss her hands.
“The porters get one friedrich d’or each. Give them a gold piece each, Alexei Ivanovich. What’s that attendant bowing for, and the other one also? Congratulating me? Give them each a friedrich d’or as well.”
“Madame la princesse…un pauvre expatrié…malheur continuel…les princes russes sont si généreux,”[36] a person twined about the armchair, in a shabby frock coat, a motley waistcoat, a mustache, holding a peaked cap in his outstretched hand, and with an obsequious smile…
“Give him a friedrich d’or as well. No, give him two; well, enough, there’ll be no end to it. Up and carry! Praskovya,” she turned to Polina Alexandrovna, “tomorrow I’ll buy you stuff for a dress, and also for this Mlle…how’s she called, Mlle Blanche, or something, I’ll also buy her stuff for a dress. Translate, Praskovya!”
“Merci, madame,” Mlle Blanche curtsied sweetly, twisting her mouth into a mocking smile, which she sent to des Grieux and the general. The general was a bit embarrassed and was terribly glad when we reached the avenue.
“Fedosya, I’m thinking how surprised Fedosya will be now,” said grandmother, remembering her acquaintance, the general’s nanny. “She should also be given money for a dress. Hey, Alexei Ivanovich, Alexei Ivanovich, give something to this beggar!”
Some ragamuffin with a bent back was going down the road and looking at us.
“Maybe he’s not a beggar, grandmother, but some sort of rascal.”
“Give! give! give him a gulden!”
I went over and gave it to him. He gazed at me in wild perplexity, though he silently took the gulden. He reeked of wine.
“And you, Alexei Ivanovich, have you tried your luck yet?”
“No, grandmother.”
“Your eyes were burning, I saw it.”
“I’ll try it yet, grandmother, for certain, later on.”
“And stake directly on zéro! You’ll see! How much capital do you have?”
“Only twenty friedrichs d’or, grandmother.”
“Not much. I’ll lend you fifty friedrichs d’or, if you like. Here’s that same roll, take it, and you, dearie, don’t get your hopes up, I won’t give you anything!” she suddenly turned to the general.
The man was as if bowled over, but he said nothing. Des Grieux frowned.
“Que diable, c’est une terrible vieille! ”[37] he whispered to the general through his teeth.
“A beggar, a beggar, again a beggar!” cried grandmother. “Alexei Ivanovich, give this one a gulden, too.”
36
Madame princess…a poor expatriate…continual misfortune…Russian princes are so generous.