Novikoff glanced piteously at him. His lips trembled and with a deprecating gesture, he silently went out, feeling utterly overcome at his own helplessness. To soothe himself, he thought:
“Of what good would it have been to hit that blackguard in the face? It would have only led to a stupid fight. Better not soil my hands!”
But the sense of jealously unsatisfied and of utter impotence still oppressed him, and he returned home in deep dejection. Flinging himself on his bed, he buried his face in the pillows and lay thus almost the whole day long, bitterly conscious that he could do nothing.
The orderly at once opened the card-table and gaily the green cloth beamed upon them all. Malinowsky’s suggestion had roused the company, and he now began to shuffle the cards with his short, hairy fingers. The bright coloured cards were now scattered circle-wise on the green table, as the chink of silver roubles was heard after each deal, while on all sides fingers like spiders closed greedily on the coin. Only brief, hoarse ejaculations were audible, expressing either vexation or pleasure. Sarudine had no luck. He obstinately made a point of staking fifteen roubles, and lost every time. His handsome face wore a look of extreme irritation. Last month he had gambled away seven hundred roubles, and now there was all this to add to his previous loss. His ill-humour was contagious, for soon between Von Deitz and Malinowsky there was an interchange of high words.
“I have staked on the side, there!” exclaimed Von Deitz irritably.
It amazed him that this drunken boor, Malinowsky, should dare to dispute with such a clever, accomplished person as himself.
“Oh! so you say!” replied Malinowsky, rudely. “Damnation, take it! when I win, then you tell me you’ve staked on the side, and when I lose …”
“I beg your pardon,” said Von Deitz, dropping his Russian accent, as he was wont to do when angry.
“Pardon be hanged! Take back your stake! No! No! Take it back, I say!”
“Good God, gentlemen! what the devil does all this mean?” shouted Sarudine, as he flung down his cards.
At this juncture a new comer appeared in the doorway, Sarudine was ashamed of his own vulgar outburst, and of his noisy, drunken guests, with their cards and bottles, for the whole scene suggested a low tavern.