No More Learning

He thought it was his orderly, returning
late, drunk as usual. The step was an unfamiliar one, and he heard the
shuffling sound of loose slippers.

The door of his room opened, and a woman in white entered. She came
close to the bed, and the terrified man recognized the Countess.

"I have come to you against my will," she said abruptly; "but I was
commanded to grant your request. The tray, seven, and ace in succession
are the magic cards. Twenty-four hours must elapse between the use
of each card, and after the three have been used you must never play
again. "

The fantom then turned and walked away. Herman heard the outside door
close, and again saw the form pass the window.

He rose and went out into the hall, where his orderly lay asleep on the
floor. The door was closed. Finding no trace of a visitor, he returned
to his room, lit his candle, and wrote down what he had just heard.

Two fixed ideas cannot exist in the brain at the same time any more than
two bodies can occupy the same point in space. The tray, seven, and ace
soon chased away the thoughts of the dead woman, and all other thoughts
from the brain of the young officer. All his ideas merged into a single
one: how to turn to advantage the secret paid for so dearly.
He even
thought of resigning his commission and going to Paris to force a
fortune from conquered fate. Chance rescued him from his embarrassment.

*****

Tchekalinsky, a man who had passed his whole life at cards, opened
a club at St. Petersburg. His long experience secured for him the
confidence of his companions, and his hospitality and genial humor
conciliated society.

The gilded youth flocked around him, neglecting society, preferring the
charms of faro to those of their sweethearts. Naroumov invited Herman
to accompany him to the club, and the young man accepted the invitation
only too willingly.

The two officers found the apartments full. Generals and statesmen
played whist; young men lounged on sofas, eating ices or smoking. In
the principal salon stood a long table, at which about twenty men sat
playing faro, the host of the establishment being the banker.

He was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face
shone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered
around his lips.

Naroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged
him not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than
thirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each
coup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses,
politely answering all questions and constantly smiling.