"If I could only trump that little card," exclaimed Lukhnof in reference to one of the stout proprietor's cards. He was still making half-ruble wagers. "Trump Ilyin's instead: what would be the use of trumping mine?" replied the proprietor. And, in point of fact, Ilyin's cards were trumped oftener than the others'. He nervously tore up his losing card under the table, and with trembling hands chose another. Turbin arose from the sofa, and asked the Greek to give him his place next the banker. The Greek changed places; and the count, taking his chair, and not moving his eyes, began to watch Lukhnof's hands attentively. "Ilyin," said he suddenly in his ordinary voice, which, entirely contrary to his desire, drowned out the others, "why do you stick to those routine cards? You don't know how to play!" "Supposing I don't, it's all the same." "You'll lose that way surely. Let me play against the bank for you." "No, excuse me, I beg of you. I'm always this way. Play for yourself if you like." "I have told you that I am not going to play. But I should like to play for you. I hate to see you losing so." "Ah, well! you see it's my luck." The count said nothing more, and leaning on his elbow began once more to watch the banker's hand just as attentively as before. "Shameful!" he suddenly cried in a loud voice, dwelling on the word. Lukhnof glared at him. "Shameful, shameful!" he repeated still louder, staring straight into Lukhnof's eyes. The game continued. "That is not right!" said Turbin again, as Lukhnof trumped one of Ilyin's high cards. "What displeases you, count?" politely asked the banker with an air of indifference. "Because you give Ilyin a simplum, and turn down your corners. That's what is shameful!" Lukhnof made a slight motion with his shoulders and brows, signifying that he was resigned to any fate, and then he went on with the game. "Blücher, _fiu_!" cried the count, rising; "over with him!" he added quickly. Blücher, bumping against the sofa with his back, and almost knocking the garrison officer from his feet, came leaping toward his master, looking at every one and wagging his tail as though he would ask, "Who is misbehaving here, hey?" Lukhnof laid down the cards, and moved his chair away. "This is no way to play," said he. "I detest dogs. What kind of a game can you have if a whole pack of hounds is to be brought in?" "Especially that kind of dog: they are called blood-suckers, if I am not mistaken," suggested the garrison officer. "Well, are we to play or not, Mikháïlo Vasílyitch?" asked Lukhnof, addressing the uhlan. "Don't bother us, count, I beg of you," said Ilyin, turning to Turbin. "Come here for a moment," said Turbin, taking Ilyin's arm, and drawing him into the next room. There the count's words were perfectly audible, though he spoke in his ordinary tone. But his voice was so powerful that it could always be heard three rooms off.