“Of course she didn’t understand well. She couldn’t imagine so large a sum, but he went on:
“‘Now, I’ll give you one. This paper is worth 365 rubles, but don’t sell it.... Take it and may you be lucky....’
“She didn’t take it, but huddled up, as if she were afraid. ‘All right,’ said M. Budnikov. ‘Give me your hand and take this paper.’ He took one of the tickets and guided her hand in making two pencil strokes sharply and heavily. His mind was clearly made up.... He gave it outright with all the results, we may say. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘this is yours, and if you win two hundred thousand, they’ll be yours too.’ He placed it back on the table. She reached out her hand and put in her bosom a paper with the number of the ticket.”
“Really?” asked the mathematician.
“Yes.... It had to happen so.... That machine was working in Petersburg, throwing out one number after another.... Children’s hands pick them up.... And one of these tickets won.”
“Two hundred thousand?” asked the mathematician, with great interest; apparently he had forgotten about sleeping.
“Not two hundred, but seventy-five.... During March, M. Budnikov looked at the list of drawings and saw that his number had won a large prize. Zero, again zero ... 318 and 32. Suddenly he remembered that he had given one ticket to Yelena.... He also remembered that there were two lines on the first. He had three in a row: 317, 318 and 319. That means 317.... He got out the tickets and looked: there were two lines on 317. Yelena had won....”
“The devil,” exclaimed the mathematician, raising himself a little. “That’s luck!”
“Yes, it was. And she was so stupid. The lines were on that number, when he thought that he would give her another.... A mistake, a mechanical wave of the hand, mere chance.... And, because of this chance, Yelena, a stupid woman who understood nothing and did not know what to do with money, would take from him ... him, M. Budnikov, take away, so to speak, a large sum of money. That was foolish, wasn’t it? He was educated, had an aim in his life, or had had.... He might again. He would perhaps have used the money for some good cause. He would write again to his friend and ask his advice.... But she ... she? A beast with a round form and beautiful eyes, which didn’t even show clearly what was in them: the stupidity of a calf or the innocence of a youth who had not yet grown to conscious life.... Do you understand?... It was so natural.... Any one in Budnikov’s place, you ... I ... even Petr Petrovich, would have felt the same way....”