No More Learning

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.

After the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began
again.

"Permit me to choose a card," said Herman, stretching out his hand over
the head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed
without replying.

Herman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a
piece of chalk.

"How much is that? " asked the banker; "excuse me, sir, but I do not see
well. "

"Forty thousand rubles," said Herman coolly.

All eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.

"He has lost his wits," thought Naroumov.