The Gambler
A tutor's obsession with a woman, a family's desperation for an inheritance, and the fever of the roulette wheel
Page 1
In the German spa town of Roulettenburg, I was a tutor, Alexei Ivanovich, in the service of a debt-ridden Russian General. We were all anxiously awaiting news of his rich aunt's death, which would save us. The General’s stepdaughter, Polina, treated me with contempt, yet I was her slave. I watched her walking on the promenade, tormented. She turned and saw me staring. "Why do you follow me, Alexei Ivanovich?" she asked, her voice cold. "Am I your responsibility?" I bowed stiffly. "You know that you may dispose of my life as you wish," I said. She laughed, a short, sharp sound without humour. "Perhaps one day I will," she replied, turning away. I knew then she held my life in her hands and could crush it with a word.
Page 2
Polina called me to the gardens. She looked at me with that cool, challenging stare I could never withstand. "I need you to do something for me," she began, her voice low. "Are you my slave or not? Will you do anything I ask?" I bowed my head. "Anything." She handed me a roll of banknotes. "Go to the casino. I want you to play roulette for me." She gave me precise instructions on where to place the bets, a system she had devised. "Do not dare to come back until you have won," she finished, her eyes flashing. It was a test, a cruel game she was playing with my devotion. But I felt a strange thrill, a feverish excitement. It was for her; everything was for her.
Page 3
The General's suite was thick with tension. His French mistress, Mademoiselle Blanche, fanned herself impatiently. "Where is this telegram?" she demanded. "Are you sure the old woman is even dying?" The General wrung his hands. "Patience, my dear! It will come!" A commotion in the corridor made everyone look up. It was not a telegram. Four porters carried in a huge armchair, and in it sat a tiny, fierce-eyed old woman. It was Antonida Vasilyevna, the Moscow aunt—'Babushka'—herself. "So!" she chirped, her voice shockingly strong. "You were expecting my money? Well, I am here to see this 'roulette' for myself!" The General turned white, his face a picture of absolute horror. Our last hope was not only alive, but she was here.
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They carried Babushka in her chair right up to the roulette table. The General was sweating with fear. "Grandmother, please, this is madness!" he pleaded. She ignored him. "Silence, boy!" she snapped at me as I tried to explain the rules. "I know what I am doing! Put a thousand on zero!" At first, she won a fortune, piling gold in her lap. The crowd stared. Then, her luck turned. She refused to stop, chasing her losses. "Another four thousand on red!" she cried, her eyes gleaming. In a single evening of madness, she lost nearly everything. The General nearly fainted. Our ruin was complete.
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With Babushka's fortune gone, de Grieux abandoned Polina. She sent for me. I found her in her small room, her face pale with fury. "He is gone," she said, her voice flat. She held up a letter. "And I owe him fifty thousand francs. I am his debtor, his property." Her pride suddenly overcame her. She took out a small sum of money the Frenchman had left her. "He left me this, for my expenses," she said, her voice shaking with rage. "Take it! You are my slave, are you not? At least you are not a coward!" With a look of pure contempt, she threw the money in my face. It was not me she hated, but her own powerlessness. I knew what I had to do. I would get that fifty thousand francs for her. I would win it.
Page 6
I ran back to the casino, my mind on fire. I had a few coins left. I went to the Trente-et-Quarante tables. A strange calm came over me, a feeling of absolute certainty. 'Now it begins,' I thought. I put everything on one bet. I won. I let it ride. I won again. I could not lose. I was no longer thinking of Polina. I was possessed by the game itself—the risk, the power, the feeling of bending fate to my will. 'Just one more time,' I told myself, again and again. A crowd gathered, silent and amazed, as my winnings grew into a mountain of gold and banknotes. The croupiers could not pay me fast enough. In less than an hour, I had won two hundred thousand francs.
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I returned to my miserable room to find Polina waiting. I emptied my pockets onto the bed, creating a glittering mountain of money. "Here!" I cried, grabbing handfuls of gold. "All of it! Two hundred thousand francs! You are free!" I thought she would see me as her saviour. Instead, she stared at the money with horror. "Do you really think you can buy me with this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "This isn't love. This is fever." Our night was a storm of hysteria. She laughed and cried, accusing me of trying to own her. By dawn, she had decided. "I will not take a single coin," she said, her face set like stone. Then she left.
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After Polina left, Mademoiselle Blanche found me and my fortune. She swept me off to Paris, where for a month, I was her creature. "You must have a fine carriage, mon cher Alexei," she declared, and I bought one. "And these diamonds, are they not divine?" she would ask, and I would buy them. We rode through the city in splendor, and I spent my money with a kind of numb abandon. I felt nothing. "You have been very generous," Blanche said one evening, admiring a new bracelet. "But Paris is a very expensive city, is it not?" The fortune I had won drained away on silks and champagne. When it was nearly gone, she dismissed me coolly. I was back where I started, only now I was truly alone.
Page 9
A year later, I was a ghost, drifting through German spa towns. On a street corner in Homburg, I ran into Mr. Astley. He did not judge my shabby clothes or gaunt face. "Alexei Ivanovich," he said, his voice kind. "I have been looking for you." He told me Babushka had died, leaving her fortune to Polina. And Polina... "She is in Switzerland," Astley said gently. "And she loves you. She always did. She understood your illness." He pressed money into my hand. "She sent me to find you. Go to her now. It is not too late." For the first time in a year, I felt a flicker of hope. A new life seemed possible.
Page 10
I had the money for a new life. It was enough to go to Switzerland, to find Polina. I stood in the town square, and before me was the casino, lit up against the night. All I had to do was walk away. But the pull was too strong. 'Just one more time,' I thought, my hand tightening on the notes. 'I could win a little more. I will be careful. I will stop.' I knew it was a lie, but it was a comforting one. The sound of the spinning wheel seemed to call my name, a siren song of ruin and ecstasy. "Tomorrow," I whispered to myself, turning away from the path to the station. "Tomorrow it will all be over. I will go to her tomorrow." For tonight, I had just enough for a few last turns of the wheel.
About this story
- Audience: general readers
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