“Let him do it, let him do it,” said Dólokhov, smiling.

“What next? Have you gone mad?⁠ ⁠… No one would let you!⁠ ⁠… Why, you go giddy even on a staircase,” exclaimed several voices.

“I’ll drink it! Let’s have a bottle of rum!” shouted Pierre, banging the table with a determined and drunken gesture and preparing to climb out of the window.

They seized him by his arms; but he was so strong that everyone who touched him was sent flying.

“No, you’ll never manage him that way,” said Anatole. “Wait a bit and I’ll get round him.⁠ ⁠… Listen! I’ll take your bet tomorrow, but now we are all going to ⸻’s.”

“Come on then,” cried Pierre. “Come on!⁠ ⁠… And we’ll take Míshka with us.”

And he caught the bear, took it in his arms, lifted it from the ground, and began dancing round the room with it.