The uhlan had been playing for four nights in succession.
He had come from Moscow, where the public money had been intrusted to him. At K. the post-superintendent had detained him under the pretext that there were no post-horses, but in reality in accordance with his agreement with the hotel-keeper to detain all visitors for a day.
The uhlan, who was a gay young fellow, and had just received from his parent three thousand rubles for his military equipment, was glad to spend a few days in the city of K. during the elections, and counted on having a good time.
He knew a landed proprietor whose family lived there, and he was preparing to call upon him and pay his addresses to his daughter, when the cavalryman appeared, and made his acquaintance. That very evening, without malice prepense, he took him down into the parlor, and introduced him to his friends, Lukhnof and several other gamblers. From that time, the uhlan had kept steadily at gaming, and not only had not called on the proprietor, but had not thought of inquiring further for horses, and for four days had not left his room.
After he had dressed, and taken his tea, he went to the window. He felt an inclination to go out so as to dispel the importunate recollections of the game. He put on his cloak, and went into the street.
The sun had just sunk behind the white houses with their red roofs. It was already twilight. It was warm. The snow was softly falling in big, damp flakes, in the muddy streets. His mind suddenly became filled with unendurable melancholy at the thought that he had spent all that day in sleep, and now the day was done.
"This day which has gone, will never come back again," he said to himself.
"I have wasted my youth," he suddenly exclaimed, not because he really felt that he had wasted his youth,--he did not think about it at all,--but simply this phrase came into his head.
"What shall I do now?" he reasoned; "borrow of some one, and go away?"
"What a stupid woman!" he said to himself for some reason.
"There's no one I can borrow of. I have wasted my youth."
He came to a block of stores. A merchant in a fox-skin shuba was standing at the door of his shop, and inviting custom.
"If I hadn't taken the eight, I should have won."