The Countess now understood what he required.
"It was a joke," she interrupted. "I swear to you it was only a joke."
"No, madam," replied Hermann in an angry tone. "Remember Tchaplitzki, and how you enabled him to win."
The Countess was agitated. For a moment her features expressed strong emotion; but they soon resumed their former dulness.
"Cannot you name to me," said Hermann, "three winning cards?"
The Countess remained silent. "Why keep this secret for your great-grandchildren," he continued. "They are rich enough without; they do not know the value of money. Of what profit would your three cards be to them? They are debauchees. The man who cannot keep his inheritance will die in want, though he had the science of demons at his command. I am a steady man. I know the value of money. Your three cards will not be lost upon me. Come!"
He stopped tremblingly, awaiting a reply. The Countess did not utter a word. Hermann went upon his knees.
"If your heart has ever known the passion of love; if you can remember its sweet ecstasies; if you Pave ever been touched by the cry of a newborn babe; if any human feeling has ever caused your heart to beat, I entreat you by the love of a husband, a lover, a mother, by all that is sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Tell me your secret! Reflect! You are old; you Pave not long to live! Remember that the happiness of a man is in your hands; that not only myself, but my children and my grandchildren will bless your memory as a saint."
The old Countess answered not a word.
Hermann rose, and drew a pistol from his pocket.