“Stake something, Michael Semyonitch!” said the banker: “you’ve brought back lots of money, I’m sure.”
“How should I get money! On the contrary, what I had I’ve spent in the town.”
“Never! . . . You’ve surely cleared some one out in Simferopol!”
“I’ve really very little,” said Kozeltsof, but, evidently not wishing to be believed, he unbuttoned his uniform and took up an old pack of cards.
“Well, suppose I have a try; who knows what the devil may do for one! Even a mosquito, you know, wins his battles sometimes. Only I must have a drink to keep up my courage.”
And soon, having drunk another glass of vodka and some porter, he lost his last three roubles.
A hundred and fifty roubles were noted down against the little perspiring officer.
“No, I’ve no luck,” he said carelessly, preparing
