The Brothers Karamazov полностью

“Take seats, panowie,” Pan Vrublevsky announced.

“No, I won’t play anymore,” replied Kalganov. “I’ve already lost fifty roubles to them.”

“The pan was unlucky, the pan may be luckier this time,” the pan on the sofa observed in his direction.

“How much is in the bank? Enough to cover?” Mitya was getting excited.

“That depends, panie, maybe a hundred, maybe two, as much as you want to stake.”

“A million!” Mitya guffawed.

“The pan captain has perhaps heard of Pan Podvysotsky?”^[258]

“What Podvysotsky?”

“There is a gaming house in Warsaw, and anyone who comes can stake against the bank. Podvysotsky comes, sees a thousand zloty, and stakes the bank. The banker says, ‘Panie Podvysotsky, are you putting up the money, or your honor?’ ‘My honor, panie,’ says Podvysotsky. ‘So much the better, panie.’ The banker deals, Podvysotsky wins and reaches for the thousand zloty. ‘Here, panie,’ says the banker, and he pulls out a drawer and gives him a million, ‘take it, panie, you have won it!’ There was a million in the bank. ‘I did not know that,’ says Podvysotsky. ‘Panie Podvysotsky,’ says the banker, ‘you pledged your honor, and we pledged ours.’ Podvysotsky took the million.”

“That’s not true,” said Kalganov.

“Panie Kalganov, one does not say such things in decent company.”

“As if a Polish gambler would give away a million!” Mitya exclaimed, but immediately checked himself. “Forgive me, panie, my fault, my fault again, of course he would give it away, on his gonor,^[259] on his Polish honor!See how well I speak Polish, ha, ha! Here, ten roubles on the jack.”

“And I put one little rouble on the queen, the queen of hearts, the pretty thing, the little panienochka,^[260] hee, hee!” Maximov giggled, producing his queen; and moving right up to the table, as though trying to conceal it from everyone, he hurriedly crossed himself under the table. Mitya won. The rouble also won.

“Twenty-five!” cried Mitya.

“Another rouble, a little stake, a simple little stake,” Maximov muttered blissfully, terribly happy to have won a rouble.

“Lost!” cried Mitya. “Double on the seven!”

The double, too, was lost.

“Stop!” Kalganov said suddenly.

“Double! Double!” Mitya kept doubling his stakes, and every time he doubled a card, it lost. But the roubles kept winning.

“Double!” Mitya roared furiously.

“You’ve lost two hundred, panie. Will you stake another two hundred?” the pan on the sofa inquired.

“What, two hundred already! Here’s another two hundred! The whole two hundred on the double!” and pulling the money from his pocket, Mitya threw down two hundred roubles on the queen, but Kalganov suddenly covered it with his hand.

“Enough!” he cried in his ringing voice.

“What do you mean?” Mitya stared at him.

“Enough, I won’t let you! You won’t play anymore!”

“Why?”

“Because. Just spit and come away, that’s why. I won’t let you play any more!”

Mitya looked at him in amazement.

“Quit, Mitya. Maybe he’s right; you’ve lost a lot as it is,” Grushenka, too, said, with a strange note in her voice. Both pans suddenly rose to their feet, looking terribly offended.

“Zartujesz (Are you joking), panie?” the little pan said, looking sternly at Kalganov.

“Yak sen powazasz to robic, panie (How dare you do that)!” Pan Vrublevsky also roared at Kalganov.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you dare shout!” Grushenka shouted. “You turkey cocks!”

Mitya looked at each of them in turn; then something in Grushenka’s face suddenly struck him, and at the same moment something quite new flashed through his mind—a strange new thought!

“Pani Agrippina!” the little pan, all flushed with defiance, began speaking, when Mitya suddenly came up to him and slapped him on the shoulder.

“A word with you, Excellency.”

“Czego chcesz, panie (What do you want) ?”

“Let’s step into the other room, over there; I have some nice news for you, the best news, you’ll be pleased to hear it.”

The little pan was surprised and looked warily at Mitya. However, he agreed at once, but on the firm condition that Pan Vrublevsky also come with them.

“The bodyguard? Let him come, we need him, too! He must come, in fact!” Mitya exclaimed. “March, panowie!”

“Where are you going?” Grushenka asked anxiously.

“We’ll be back in a moment,” Mitya replied. A certain boldness, a certain unexpected cheerfulness flashed in his face; it was quite a different look from the one he had when he entered the same room an hour earlier. He led the panowie into the room at the right, not the big one where the chorus of girls was gathering and the table was being laid, but a bedroom, where there were trunks and boxes and two big beds with a pile of cotton pillows on each. There was a candle burning on a little wooden table in the very corner. The pan and Mitya sat down at this table, facing each other, while the enormous Pan Vrublevsky stood to one side of them, his hands behind his back. The pans looked stern, but were obviously curious.