“Well, settling it by gambling means subjecting one’s self to uncertainty,” said Tchitchikoff; and meantime he cast a glance at the cards in Nozdreff’s hands. By the appearance of the pack it struck him that these must be prepared cards—even the gilding on the edges seemed suspicious to him.
“Why to uncertainty?” said Nozdreff. “There is no uncertainty about it; if luck is only on your side, you can win a devil of a lot! There it is! Eh, what luck!” he said, beginning to deal for the sake of arousing his guest’s appetite; “what luck, what luck! Look here, and here! Here’s that confounded card upon which I staked everything! I felt that it would give me over to the Evil One: and I shut my eyes, and said to myself, ‘Devil take you; you will betray me, you cursed thing!”’
While Nozdreff was saying this, Porfiriy brought in a bottle of wine. But Tchitchikoff positively declined either to play or to drink.
“Why won’t you play?” asked Nozdreff.
“Well, because I am not so disposed. To tell the truth, I am not at all fond of gambling.”
“Why not?”
Tchitchikoff shrugged his shoulders and retorted, “Because I’m not.”
“You’re a fool, then!”
“I can’t help it. God made me so.”
“You’re simply a fetiuk! I used to think you a decent sort of a man; but you don’t understand good manners at all. It’s impossible to talk with you as with a friend: there’s no uprightness or sincerity about you! You’re a perfect Sobakevitch—just such another rascal!”
“Why are you insulting me? Am I to blame because I don’t gamble? Sell me your dead souls and let us have an end of all this nonsense.”
“May the bald devil get you! I did mean to give them to you for nothing, but now you won’t get them at all! I wouldn’t sell them even if you were to give me three empires. Such a deceiver, such a detestable miser you are! I will have nothing to do with you from this time forth. Go, Porfiriy, tell the ostler not to give any oats to this man’s horses; let them eat hay instead.”
Tchitchikoff was not in the least prepared for this last decree.
“It would have been better if you had never presented yourself before my eyes at all!” exclaimed Nozdreff.
Despite this quarrel, the host and his guest supped together; but on this occasion no wines with seductive names appeared upon the table. A single bottle of Cyprus reared its head: it was of the sort known as sour (kislyatina) in every respect. After supper Nozdreff told Tchitchikoff, as he conducted him to an adjoining chamber, where sleeping accommodation was prepared for him, “Here’s your bed; but I don’t mean to wish you good night.”
Tchitchikoff remained in the most unpleasant frame of mind after Nozdreff’s departure. He was inwardly vexed with himself, and reproached himself with having come to this house, and thus wasted his time. He reproached himself still more for his indiscretion in discussing a business matter with Nozdreff, which was acting indiscreetly, like a child, like a fool in fact, for the matter was not at all of a kind which could be intrusted to Nozdreff.
“Nozdreff is a worthless fellow, who lies, embellishes his facts, and is capable of setting afloat the deuce knows what. Some scandal will surely arise. It was not prudent to tell him that—not prudent at all! I am a perfect fool!” added our friend to himself.