“The pan had no luck, perhaps he’ll be lucky this time,” the Pole on the sofa observed in his direction.
“How much in the bank? To correspond?” asked Mitya.
“That’s according, panie , maybe a hundred, maybe two hundred, as much as you will stake.”
“A million!” laughed Mitya.
“The Pan Captain has heard of Pan Podvysotsky, perhaps?”
“What Podvysotsky?”
“In Warsaw there was a bank and anyone comes and stakes against it. Podvysotsky comes, sees a thousand gold pieces, stakes against the bank. The banker says, ‘ Panie Podvysotsky, are you laying down the gold, or must we trust to your honor?’ ‘To my honor, panie ,’ says Podvysotsky. ‘So much the better.’ The banker throws the dice. Podvysotsky wins. ‘Take it, panie ,’ says the banker, and pulling out the drawer he gives him a million. ‘Take it, panie , this is your gain.’ There was a