At last it went so far that Nekhliudof was in for more than five hundred rubles. Fedotka laid down his cue, and said—
“Aren’t you satisfied for today? I’m tired,” says he.
Yet I knew he was ready to play till dawn of day, provided there was money to be won. Stratagem, of course. And the other was all the more anxious to go on. “Come on! Come on!”
“No—’pon my honor, I’m tired. Come,” says Fedot; “let’s go upstairs; there you shall have your revanche.”
Upstairs with us meant the place where the gentlemen used to play cards. From that very day, Fedotka wound his net round him so that he began to come every day. He would play one or two games of billiards, and then proceed upstairs—every day upstairs.
What they used to do there, God only knows; but it is a fact that from that time he began to be an entirely different kind of man, and seemed hand in glove with Fedotka. Formerly he used to be stylish, neat in his dress, with his hair slightly curled even; but now it would be only in the morning that he would be anything like himself; but as soon as he had paid his visit upstairs, he would not be at all like himself.
Once he came down from upstairs with the prince, pale, his lips trembling, and talking excitedly.
“I cannot permit such a one as he is,” says he, “to say that I am not”—How did he express himself? I cannot recollect, something like “not refined enough,” or what—“and that he won’t play with me anymore. I tell you I have paid him ten thousand, and I should think that he might be a little more considerate, before others, at least.”
“Oh, bother!” says the prince, “is it worth while to lose one’s temper with Fedotka?”