And going up to the sofa he thrust his fingers between the sofa back and the cushion, and pulled out an unopened pack of cards.
“Here’s my pack unopened!”
He held it up and showed it to all in the room. “From where I stood I saw him slip my pack away, and put his in place of it—you’re a cheat and not a gentleman!”
“And I twice saw the pan change a card!” cried Kalganov.
“How shameful! How shameful!” exclaimed Grushenka, clasping her hands, and blushing for genuine shame. “Good Lord, he’s come to that!”
“I thought so, too!” said Mitya. But before he had uttered the words, Vrublevsky, with a confused and infuriated face, shook his fist at Grushenka, shouting:
“You low harlot!”
Mitya flew at him at once, clutched him in both hands, lifted him in the air, and in one instant had carried him into the room on the right, from which they had just come.
“I’ve laid him on the floor, there,” he announced, returning at once, gasping with excitement. “He’s struggling, the scoundrel! But he won’t come back, no fear of that! …”
He closed one half of the folding doors, and holding the other ajar called out to the little Pole:
“Most illustrious, will you be pleased to retire as well?”