Book Four: 1806 - Chapter XIV

by Leo Tolstoy

　　An hour and a half later most of the players were but littleinterested in their own play.

　　The whole interest was concentrated on Rostov. Instead of sixteenhundred rubles he had a long column of figures scored against him,which he had reckoned up to ten thousand, but that now, as hevaguely supposed, must have risen to fifteen thousand. In reality italready exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolokhov was no longerlistening to stories or telling them, but followed every movement ofRostov's hands and occasionally ran his eyes over the score againsthim. He had decided to play until that score reached forty-threethousand. He had fixed on that number because forty-three was thesum of his and Sonya's joint ages. Rostov, leaning his head on bothhands, sat at the table which was scrawled over with figures, wet withspilled wine, and littered with cards. One tormenting impression didnot leave him: that those broad-boned reddish hands with hairywrists visible from under the shirt sleeves, those hands which heloved and hated, held him in their power.

　　"Six hundred rubles, ace, a corner, a nine... winning it back'simpossible... Oh, how pleasant it was at home!... The knave, double orquits... it can't be!... And why is he doing this to me?" Rostovpondered. Sometimes he staked a large sum, but Dolokhov refused toaccept it and fixed the stake himself. Nicholas submitted to him,and at one moment prayed to God as he had done on the battlefield atthe bridge over the Enns, and then guessed that the card that camefirst to hand from the crumpled heap under the table would save him,now counted the cords on his coat and took a card with that number andtried staking the total of his losses on it, then he looked roundfor aid from the other players, or peered at the now cold face ofDolokhov and tried to read what was passing in his mind.

　　"He knows of course what this loss means to me. He can't want myruin. Wasn't he my friend? Wasn't I fond of him? But it's not hisfault. What's he to do if he has such luck?... And it's not my faulteither," he thought to himself, "I have done nothing wrong. Have Ikilled anyone, or insulted or wished harm to anyone? Why such aterrible misfortune? And when did it begin? Such a little while agoI came to this table with the thought of winning a hundred rubles tobuy that casket for Mamma's name day and then going home. I was sohappy, so free, so lighthearted! And I did not realize how happy Iwas! When did that end and when did this new, terrible state of thingsbegin? What marked the change? I sat all the time in this same placeat this table, chose and placed cards, and watched those broad-bonedagile hands in the same way. When did it happen and what has happened?I am well and strong and still the same and in the same place. No,it can't be! Surely it will all end in nothing!"

　　He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was nothot. His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from itshelpless efforts to seem calm.

　　The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-threethousand. Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner ofwhich he meant to double the three thousand just put down to hisscore, when Dolokhov, slamming down the pack of cards, put it asideand began rapidly adding up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking thechalk as he marked the figures in his clear, bold hand.

　　"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!"

　　Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the coldoutside and saying something in their gypsy accents. Nicholasunderstood that it was all over; but he said in an indifferent tone:

　　"Well, won't you go on? I had a splendid card all ready," as if itwere the fun of the game which interested him most.

　　"It's all up! I'm lost!" thought he. "Now a bullet through my brain-that's all that's left me! " And at the same time he said in acheerful voice:

　　"Come now, just this one more little card!"

　　"All right!" said Dolokhov, having finished the addition. "Allright! Twenty-one rubles," he said, pointing to the figuretwenty-one by which the total exceeded the round sum of forty-threethousand; and taking up a pack he prepared to deal. Rostovsubmissively unbent the corner of his card and, instead of the sixthousand he had intended, carefully wrote twenty-one.

　　"It's all the same to me," he said. "I only want to see whetheryou will let me win this ten, or beat it."

　　Dolokhov began to deal seriously. Oh, how Rostov detested at thatmoment those hands with their short reddish fingers and hairywrists, which held him in their power.... The ten fell to him.

　　"You owe forty-three thousand, Count," said Dolokhov, and stretchinghimself he rose from the table. "One does get tired sitting solong," he added.

　　"Yes, I'm tired too," said Rostov.

　　Dolokhov cut him short, as if to remind him that it was not forhim to jest.

　　"When am I to receive the money, Count?"

　　Rostov, flushing, drew Dolokhov into the next room.

　　"I cannot pay it all immediately. Will you take an I.O.U.?" he said.

　　"I say, Rostov," said Dolokhov clearly, smiling and looking Nicholasstraight in the eyes, "you know the saying, 'Lucky in love, unlucky atcards.' Your cousin is in love with you, I know."

　　"Oh, it's terrible to feel oneself so in this man's power,"thought Rostov. He knew what a shock he would inflict on his fatherand mother by the news of this loss, he knew what a relief it would beto escape it all, and felt that Dolokhov knew that he could save himfrom all this shame and sorrow, but wanted now to play with him as acat does with a mouse.

　　"Your cousin..." Dolokhov started to say, but Nicholas interruptedhim.

　　"My cousin has nothing to do with this and it's not necessary tomention her!" he exclaimed fiercely.

　　"Then when am I to have it?"

　　"Tomorrow," replied Rostov and left the room.