Hermann now resolved to approach the coffin.  He knelt down upon the cold stones and remained in that position for some minutes; at last he arose, as pale as the deceased Countess herself; he ascended the steps of the catafalque and bent over the corpse...  At that moment it seemed to him that the dead woman darted a mocking look at him and winked with one eye.  Hermann started back, took a false step and fell to the ground.  Several persons hurried forward and raised him up.  At the same moment Lizaveta Ivanovna was borne fainting into the porch of the church.  This episode disturbed for some minutes the solemnity of the gloomy ceremony.  Among the congregation arose a deep murmur, and a tall thin chamberlain, a near relative of the deceased, whispered in the ear of an Englishman who was standing near him, that the young officer was a natural son of the Countess, to which the Englishman coldly replied:  “Oh!”

During the whole of that day, Hermann was strangely excited.  Repairing to an out-of-the-way restaurant to dine, he drank a great deal of wine, contrary to his usual custom, in the hope of deadening his inward agitation.  But the wine only served to excite his imagination still more.  On returning home, he threw himself upon his bed without undressing, and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up it was already night, and the moon was shining into the room.  He looked at his watch:  it was a quarter to three.  Sleep had left him; he sat down upon his bed and thought of the funeral of the old Countess.

At that moment somebody in the street looked in at his window, and immediately passed on again.  Hermann paid no attention to this incident.  A few moments afterwards he heard the door of his ante-room open.  Hermann thought that it was his orderly, drunk as usual, returning from some nocturnal expedition, but presently he heard footsteps that were unknown to him:  somebody was walking softly over the floor in slippers.  The door opened, and a woman dressed in white, entered the room.  Hermann mistook her for his old nurse, and wondered what could bring her there at that hour of the night.  But the white woman glided rapidly across the room and stood before him—­and Hermann recognised the Countess!

“I have come to you against my wish,” she said in a firm voice:  “but I have been ordered to grant your request.  Three, seven, ace, will win for you if played in succession, but only on these conditions:  that you do not play more than one card in twenty-four hours, and that you never play again during the rest of your life.  I forgive you my death, on condition that you marry my companion, Lizaveta Ivanovna.”

With these words she turned round very quietly, walked with a shuffling gait towards the door and disappeared.  Hermann heard the street-door open and shut, and again he saw some one look in at him through the window.

For a long time Hermann could not recover himself.  He then rose up and entered the next room.  His orderly was lying asleep upon the floor, and he had much difficulty in waking him.  The orderly was drunk as usual, and no information could be obtained from him.  The street-door was locked.  Hermann returned to his room, lit his candle, and wrote down all the details of his vision.