And now it seemed that this self-reliant, careful player had been
stripped not only of his money but of his effects, which marks the
lowest depths of loss for an officer.
"He always had devilish good luck with me," said Lieutenant O. "I made a
vow never to play with him again."
"What a marvel you are, old fellow!" said S., nodding at me, and
addressing O. "You lost three hundred silver rubles, that's what you
lost to him."
"More than that," said the lieutenant savagely.
"And now you have come to your senses; it is rather late in the day, old
man, for the rest of us have known for a long time that he was the cheat
of the regiment," said S., with difficulty restraining his laughter, and
feeling very well satisfied with his fabrication. "Here is Guskof right
here,--he FIXES his cards for him. That's the reason of the friendship
between them, old man" [Footnote: BATENKA MOI] . . . and Captain S.,
shaking all over, burst out into such a hearty "ha, ha, ha!" that he
spilt the glass of mulled wine which he was holding in his hand. On
Guskof's pale emaciated face there showed something like a color; he
opened his mouth several times, raised his hands to his moustaches, and
once more dropped them to his side where the pockets should have been,
stood up, and then sat down again, and finally in an unnatural voice
said to S.
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