one to borrow from.” Some man or other drove past in a bearskin cloak; a policeman was standing at his post. “What could one do that is unusual? Shoot at them? No, it’s dull. … I have ruined my youth! … Ah, there are fine horse-collars and trappings hanging there. There now, if one could get into a troika: ‘Gee-up, beauties!’ … I’ll go back. Loúhnof will come soon, and we’ll play.”
He returned to the hotel and again counted his money. No, he had made no mistake when he first counted: there were still 2500 roubles of Government money missing. “I’ll stake 25 roubles on the first card, then make a ‘corner’ … 7-fold it, 15-fold, 30, 60 … 3000 roubles. Then I’ll buy the horse-collars and be off. He won’t give me a chance, the rascal! I have ruined my youth!”
That is what was going on in the Uhlan’s head when Loúhnof really entered the room.
“Well, have you been up long, Michael Vasílitch?” asked Loúhnof, slowly removing the gold spectacles from his skinny nose, and carefully wiping them with a red silk handkerchief.
“No, I’ve only just got up—I slept uncommonly well.”
“Some hussar or other has arrived; he is staying with Zavalshévsky—did you know?”
“No, I didn’t. But how’s it no one else has turned up?”
“They must have gone into Pryáhin’s. They’ll be here directly.”
And, sure enough, a little later the room was entered by a garrison officer who always followed Loúhnof, a Greek merchant with an enormous brown, hooked nose and sunken black eyes, and a fat, puffy squire and distiller, who played whole nights, always staking “simples” of half-a-rouble each.