“I say, aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” said Pólozof, when they were in their room. “I tried to lose on purpose, and touched you under the table. Are you not ashamed? The old lady was quite upset, you know.”
The Count laughed most heartily.
“She was killing, that old lady … How offended she was! …”
And he again began laughing so merrily that even Johann, who stood in front of him, cast down his eyes and turned away with a slight smile.
“And with the son of a friend of the family! Ha-ha-ha! …” the Count continued to laugh.
“No, really, it was too bad. I was quite sorry for her,” said the Cornet.
“What nonsense! How young you still are! Why, did you wish me to lose? Why should one lose? I used to lose before I knew how to play! Ten roubles, my dear fellow, may come in useful. One must look at life practically, or else you’ll always be left in the lurch.”
Pólozof was silenced; besides, he wished to be quiet and to think about Lisa, who seemed to him an unusually pure and beautiful creature. He undressed, and lay down in the soft clean bed prepared for him.
“What nonsense all this military honour and glory is!” he thought, looking at the window curtained by the shawl, through which the white moonbeams stole in. “Happiness would be: to live in a quiet nook with a dear, wise, simple-hearted wife; that is lasting and true happiness!”
“Why don’t you undress?” he asked the Count, who was walking up and down the room.