“If you like, I’ll teach you to play with ‘tables’ and ‘ misère ,’ ” said the Count. “It is capital.”
Everyone liked the new Petersburg way. The uncle was even sure he knew it; it was just the same as “boston” used to be, only he had forgotten it a bit. But Anna Fyódorovna could not understand it at all, and so long failed to understand it that at last she felt herself obliged, with a smile and a nod of approval, to assert that now she understood it, and that all was quite clear to her. There was not a little laughter during the game when Anna Fyódorovna, holding ace and king blank, declared misère , and was left with six tricks. She even became confused, and began to smile shyly and to explain hurriedly that she had not got quite used to the new way. All the same they scored against her, especially as the Count, being used to play a careful game for high stakes, was cautious, skilfully played through his opponents’ hands, and would not at all understand the shoves the Cornet gave him under the table with his foot, nor the mistakes the latter made when they played as partners.
Lisa brought some more sweets, three kinds of jam, and some specially-prepared apples which had been kept since last season, and stood behind her mother’s back watching the game and occasionally looking at the officers, and especially at the Count’s white hands with their rosy, well-kept nails, which threw the cards and took up the tricks in so practised, assured, and elegant a manner.
Again Anna Fyódorovna, rather irritably outbidding the others, declared to make seven tricks, made only four and was fined accordingly; and having very clumsily noted down, on her brother’s demand, the points she had lost, became quite confused and fluttered.
“Never mind, mama, you will win it back!” smilingly remarked Lisa, wishful to help her mother out of the ridiculous situation. “Make uncle put on a remise of one trick, and then he will be caught.”