The Continental Classics, Volume XVIII | Page 9

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 my 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
emotions. 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 he was not there, and she thanked her
fate for having prevented him keeping the appointment. She sat down
without undressing, and began to call to mind all the circumstances
which in a short time had carried her so far. It was not three weeks
since the time when she had first seen 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 learned all this?" she asked, smiling.
"From a friend of a person very well known to you," replied Tomsky,
"from a very distinguished man."
"And whom 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 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 tantalizingly
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