THE QUEEN OF SPADES


BY ALEXSANDR S. PUSHKIN



I


There was a card party at the rooms of Narumov of the Horse Guards.
The long winter night passed away imperceptibly, and it was five
o'clock in the morning before the company sat down to supper. Those
who had won, ate with a good appetite; the others sat staring absently
at their empty plates. When the champagne appeared, however, the
conversation became more animated, and all took a part in it.

"And how did you fare, Surin?" asked the host.

"Oh, I lost, as usual. I must confess that I am unlucky: I play
mirandole, I always keep cool, I never allow anything to put me out,
and yet I always lose!"

"And you did not once allow yourself to be tempted to back the red?...
Your firmness astonishes me."

"But what do you think of Hermann?" said one of the guests, pointing
to a young Engineer: "he has never had a card in his hand in his life,