Best Russian Short Stories

[Dark Saint Alaick]

Hermann was the son of a German who had become a naturalised Russian,
and from whom he had inherited a small capital. Being firmly convinced
of the necessity of preserving his independence, Hermann did not touch
his private income, but lived on his pay, without allowing himself the
slightest luxury. Moreover, he was reserved and ambitious, and his
companions rarely had an opportunity of making merry at the expense of
his extreme parsimony. He had strong passions and an ardent
imagination, but his firmness of disposition preserved him from the
ordinary errors of young men. Thus, though a gamester at heart, he
never touched a card, for he considered his position did not allow
him--as he said--"to risk the necessary in the hope of winning the
superfluous," yet he would sit for nights together at the card table
and follow with feverish anxiety the different turns of the game.

The story of the three cards had produced a powerful impression upon
his imagination, and all night long he could think of nothing else.
"If," he thought to himself the following evening, as he walked along
the streets of St. Petersburg, "if the old Countess would but reveal
her secret to me! if she would only tell me the names of the three
winning cards. Why should I not try my fortune? I must get introduced
to her and win her favour--become her lover... But all that will take
time, and she is eighty-seven years old: she might be dead in a week,
in a couple of days even!... But the story itself: can it really be
true?... No! Economy, temperance and industry: those are my three
winning cards; by means of them I shall be able to double my
capital--increase it sevenfold, and procure for myself ease and
independence."

Musing in this manner, he walked on until he found himself in one of
the principal streets of St. Petersburg, in front of a house of
antiquated architecture. The street was blocked with equipages;
carriages one after the other drew up in front of the brilliantly
illuminated doorway. At one moment there stepped out on to the
pavement the well-shaped little foot of some young beauty, at another
the heavy boot of a cavalry officer, and then the silk stockings and
shoes of a member of the diplomatic world. Furs and cloaks passed in
rapid succession before the gigantic porter at the entrance.

Hermann stopped. "Who's house is this?" he asked of the watchman at
the corner.

"The Countess A----'s," replied the watchman.

Hermann started. The strange story of the three cards again presented
itself to his imagination. He began walking up and down before the
house, thinking of its owner and her strange secret. Returning late to
his modest lodging, he could not go to sleep for a long time, and when
at last he did doze off, he could dream of nothing but cards, green
tables, piles of banknotes and heaps of ducats. He played one card
after the other, winning uninterruptedly, and then he gathered up the
gold and filled his pockets with the notes. When he woke up late the
next morning, be sighed over the loss of his imaginary wealth, and
then sallying out into the town, he found himself once more in front
of the Countess's residence. Some unknown power seemed to have
attracted him thither. He stopped and looked up at the windows. At one
of these he saw a head with luxuriant black hair, which was bent down
probably over some book or an embroidery frame. The head was raised.
Hermann saw a fresh complexion and a pair of dark eyes. That moment
decided his fate.