"If you wish me to tell you, don't speak to me so, because ... and I beg of you don't speak to me.... I will blow my brains out--that's the only thing that's left for me now!" he exclaimed with genuine despair, letting his head sink into his hands, and bursting into tears, although but the moment before he had been calmly thinking about his horses. "_Ekh!_ you're a pretty young girl! Well, who might not have the same thing happen to him? It isn't as bad as it might be; perhaps we can straighten things out: wait for me here." The count hastened from the room. "Where is the _pomyeshchik_[69] Lukhnof's room?" he demanded of the hall-boy. [Footnote 69: Landed proprietor.] The hall-boy offered to show the count the way. The count in spite of the objections of the lackey, who said that his master had only just come in and was preparing to retire, entered the room. Lukhnof in his dressing-gown was sitting in front of a table, counting over a number of packages of bank-notes piled up before him. On the table was a bottle of Rheinwein, of which he was very fond. He had procured himself this pleasure from his winnings. Coldly, sternly, Lukhnof looked at the count over his glasses, affecting not to recognize him. "It seems that you do not know me," said the count, proceeding toward the table with resolute steps. Lukhnof recognized the count, and asked,-- "What is your pleasure?" "I wish to play with you," said Turbin, sitting down on the sofa. "Now?" "Yes." "Another time I should be most happy, count; but now I am tired, and am getting ready to go to bed. Won't you have some wine? It is excellent wine." "But I wish to play with you for a little while _now_." "I am not prepared to play any more. Maybe some of the other guests will. _I will not_, count! I beg of you to excuse me." "Then you will not?" Lukhnof shrugged his shoulders as though to express his regret at not being able to fulfil the count's desires. "Will you not play under any consideration?" The same gesture. "I am very desirous of playing with you.... Say, will you play, or not?" Silence. "Will you play?" asked the count a second time. The same silence, and a quick glance over his glasses at the count's face, which was beginning to grow sinister. "Will you play?" cried the count in a loud voice, striking his hand on the table so violently that the bottle of Rheinwein toppled over and the wine ran out. "You have been cheating, have you not? Will you play? I ask you the third time." "I have told you, no! This is truly strange, count, ... perfectly unjustifiable, to come this way, and put your knife at a man's throat," remarked Lukhnof, not lifting his eyes.