The Queen of Spades

In the city of St Petersburg, in Russia, about two hundred years ago, a group of young officers often played cards all night. One of them, Hermann, was different. He loved watching the games — but he never played. "I am not rich," he said. "I cannot risk the money I need." He was a very careful man: he worked hard, saved his money, and never took risks.

One night, an officer called Tomsky told an amazing story about his grandmother, an old countess. Sixty years ago, in Paris, she was young and beautiful — and she lost a huge amount of money at cards. She couldn't pay. Then a mysterious friend helped her. He didn't give her money. He gave her a secret: three cards. If you play these three cards, one each night, you always win. The grandmother played, won all her money back — and never told the secret to anyone again.

"That's just a fairy tale," said Hermann. But the story stayed in his head. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Three cards. Always win. No risk. That evening, without planning it, he found himself standing in front of a big old house. "Whose house is this?" he asked. "The old Countess's," a man answered. Hermann looked up at the windows for a long time. The secret was inside that house — and he wanted it.

In the Countess's house lived a young woman called Lizaveta. She was an orphan, and her life was not happy: the old Countess was difficult and cold with her, and nobody in the city noticed her. Then, one day, Lizaveta saw a young officer standing in the street, looking up at her window. The next day, he was there again. Then came letters — kind, warm, romantic letters. Lizaveta had never had a friend like this. After many letters, she wrote back and told him how to enter the house secretly one evening, while everyone was at a ball.

But Hermann did not go to Lizaveta's room. His letters had never really been for her. He wanted only one thing: the secret. He hid in the Countess's room and waited. When the old lady returned and her servants left, he stepped out. "Please don't be afraid," he said. "Just tell me the secret of the three cards." The Countess said nothing. He asked again and again. "It was only a joke," she said finally. "There is no secret." Hermann became angry. He wanted to frighten her — and the shock was too much for the old lady's weak heart. She died in her chair, and her secret died with her.

Hermann went up to Lizaveta and told her the truth: the letters, the romance — everything had been a trick to reach the Countess. Lizaveta cried bitterly. She had believed him. Before morning, she showed him the hidden stairs, and he left the silent house. He was sorry — but not about Lizaveta. He was sorry about the lost secret.

A few nights later, Hermann woke up suddenly. A figure in white stood in his room — the Countess. Was it a ghost? Was it a dream? "I have come against my will," she said. "You will win with the three, the seven, and the ace — one card each night. But you must never play again after that. And you must marry Lizaveta." Then she was gone. Hermann wrote the cards down at once. Three. Seven. Ace. From that moment, he could think of nothing else.

A famous card player named Chekalinsky came to the city, and Hermann went to his table. On the first night, he put all his money — everything he had saved his whole life — on one card: the three. He won! On the second night, he put all of it on the seven. He won again! Now he had a fortune. On the third night, everybody in the room came to watch the strange young man. He placed everything on the last card, the ace, and the game began.

"My ace wins," said Hermann, and turned his card over. "No," said Chekalinsky quietly. "Your queen loses." Hermann looked down. In his hand was not the ace — it was the queen of spades. How? He had been so sure! And in that moment, the queen on the card seemed to smile at him — with the old Countess's face. Hermann lost everything. He never recovered. He sits in a hospital now, speaking to no one, repeating the same words again and again: "Three, seven, ace! Three, seven, queen!" And Lizaveta? She married a kind young man — and is doing very well.