“Let us smoke a cigarette together, before we draw. It will be the most exquisite cigarette we ever smoked together. A cigarette with Fate....”
The cigarettes were finished. Stellan had to draw. Now he saw the ace on the extreme right. The little mark on the back of the card was noticeable in a tiny reflection from the lamp. Stellan had a feeling of being lifted off the floor, of soaring. But he did not dare to draw the ace at once. That would have looked too strange. He had to minimize the risk.
“Look here, Manne,” he said, smilingly. “Supposing I draw a low heart straight off and you draw a club. Then it would be sudden death. That would be idiotic extravagance with our precious excitement. We will continue to draw till each of us has at least one heart and after that the highest wins.”
“All right,” said Manne. His tone had become more and more obviously indifferent.
Stellan drew the nine of clubs. He saw Manne’s hand hovering over the cards with cold excitement. But it stopped at the harmless end and drew the ace of spades.
Next draw. Not even now could Stellan make up his mind to take the ace of hearts. He drew a card beside it, thinking that Manne, in obedience to some psychological law, would try his luck at the other end. He drew the two of clubs.
Manne drew the knave of hearts. A cry escaped him. It sounded as if he had hurt himself.
Stellan had not drawn a heart yet. Now he had to take it. He felt strangely frightened. It seemed as if he were about to put his hand into somebody else’s purse. He felt as if all his fellow officers were sitting round him staring at his fingers. “No, damn it, what am I really doing,” he thought. Then he pulled himself together. “Bah—you must throw out ballast—keep afloat. And nobody knows!”
Manne leaned back in his chair with a little tired smile, a smile of sad, weary, pathetic relief.
“Congratulations,” he muttered, “congratulations. Fate was right that time, perfectly right.”
They smoked for a moment in silence. Stellan wanted to say something encouraging but could not get the words over his lips. It was Manne who took up the thread again:
“I say, Stellan, don’t you sometimes shudder at life ... and yourself?”
“When some excitement is over, I sometimes feel discomfort....”