The adjutant greeted us all, including Guskof, and sat down by me in the
seat which the cashiered officer had just vacated. Pavel Dmitrievitch,
who had always been calm and leisurely, a genuine gambler, and a man of
means, was now very different from what he had been in the flowery days
of his success; he seemed to be in haste to go somewhere, kept
constantly glancing at everybody, and it was not five minutes before he
proposed to Lieutenant O., who had sworn off from playing, to set up a
small faro-bank. Lieutenant O. refused, under the pretext of having to
attend to his duties, but in reality because, as he knew that the
adjutant had few possessions and little money left, he did not feel
himself justified in risking his three hundred rubles against a hundred
or even less which the adjutant might stake.
"Well, Pavel Dmitrievitch," said the lieutenant, anxious to avoid a
repetition of the invitation, "is it true, what they tell us, that we
return to-morrow?"
"I don't know," replied the adjutant. "Orders came to be in readiness;
but if it's true, then you'd better play a game. I would wager my
Kabarda cloak."
"No, to-day already" . . .
"It's a gray one, never been worn; but if you prefer, play for money.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132