Fyodor Dostoevsky

Still, she had charged me with a commission--to win what I could

at roulette. Yet all the time I could not help wondering WHY it

was so necessary for her to win something, and what new schemes

could have sprung to birth in her ever-fertile brain. A host of

new and unknown factors seemed to have arisen during the last

two weeks. Well, it behoved me to divine them, and to probe

them, and that as soon as possible. Yet not now: at the present

moment I must repair to the roulette-table.

II

I confess I did not like it. Although I had made up my mind to

play, I felt averse to doing so on behalf of some one else. In

fact, it almost upset my balance, and I entered the gaming rooms

with an angry feeling at my heart. At first glance the scene

irritated me. Never at any time have I been able to bear the

flunkeyishness which one meets in the Press of the world at

large, but more especially in that of Russia, where, almost

every evening, journalists write on two subjects in particular

namely, on the splendour and luxury of the casinos to be found

in the Rhenish towns, and on the heaps of gold which are daily

to be seen lying on their tables. Those journalists are not

paid for doing so: they write thus merely out of a spirit of

disinterested complaisance. For there is nothing splendid about

the establishments in question; and, not only are there no heaps

of gold to be seen lying on their tables, but also there is very

little money to be seen at all. Of course, during the season,

some madman or another may make his appearance--generally an

Englishman, or an Asiatic, or a Turk--and (as had happened during

the summer of which I write) win or lose a great deal; but, as

regards the rest of the crowd, it plays only for petty gulden,

and seldom does much wealth figure on the board.

When, on the present occasion, I entered the gaming-rooms

(for the first time in my life), it was several moments

before I could even make up my mind to play. For one thing, the

crowd oppressed me. Had I been playing for myself, I think I

should have left at once, and never have embarked upon gambling at

all, for I could feel my heart beginning to beat, and my heart was

anything but cold-blooded. Also, I knew, I had long ago made up my

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