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vysotsky, are you laying down the gold, or must we trust to
your honour?’ ‘To my honour, panie,’ says Podvysotsky. ‘So
much the better.’ The banker throws the dice. Podvysotsky
wins. ‘Take it, panie,’ says the banker, and pulling out the
drawer he gives him a million. ‘Take it, panie, this is your
gain.’ There was a million in the bank. ‘I didn’t know that,’
says Podvysotsky. ‘Panie Podvysotsky,’ said the banker, ‘you
pledged your honour and we pledged ours.’ Podvysotsky
took the million.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Kalganov.
‘Panie Kalganov, in gentlemanly society one doesn’t say
such things.’
‘As if a Polish gambler would give away a million!’ cried
Mitya, but checked himself at once. ‘Forgive me, panie, it’s
my fault again; he would, he would give away a million, for
honour, for Polish honour. You see how I talk Polish, ha ha!
Here, I stake ten roubles, the knave leads.’
‘And I put a rouble on the queen, the queen of hearts, the
pretty little panienotchka* he! he!’ laughed Maximov, pull-
ing out his queen, and, as though trying to conceal it from
everyone, he moved right up and crossed himself hurriedly
under the table. Mitya won. The rouble won, too.
* Little miss.
‘A corner!’ cried Mitya.
‘I’ll bet another rouble, a ‘single’ stake,’ Maximov mut-
tered gleefully, hugely delighted at having won a rouble.
‘Lost!’ shouted Mitya. ‘A ‘double’ on the seven!’
The seven too was trumped.
‘Stop!’ cried Kalganov suddenly.

1 The Brothers Karamazov