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where I stood I saw him slip my pack away, and put his in
place of it- you’re a cheat and not a gentleman!’
‘And I twice saw the pan change a card!’ cried Kalganov.
‘How shameful! How shameful!’ exclaimed Grushenka,
clasping her hands, and blushing for genuine shame. ‘Good
Lord, he’s come to that!’
‘I thought so, too!’ said Mitya. But before he had uttered
the words, Vrublevsky, with a confused and infuriated face,
shook his fist at Grushenka, shouting:
‘You low harlot!’
Mitya flew at him at once, clutched him in both hands,
lifted him in the air, and in one instant had carried him into
the room on the right, from which they had just come.
‘I’ve laid him on the floor, there,’ he announced, return-
ing at once, gasping with excitement. ‘He’s struggling, the
scoundrel! But he won’t come back, no fear of that!..’
He closed one half of the folding doors, and holding the
other ajar called out to the little Pole:
‘Most illustrious, will you please to retire as well?’
‘My dear Dmitri Fyodorovitch,’ said Trifon Borissovitch,
‘make them give you back the money you lost. It’s as good
as stolen from you.’
‘I don’t want my fifty roubles back,’ Kalgonov declared
suddenly.
‘I don’t want my two hundred, either,’ cried Mitya, ‘I
wouldn’t take it for anything! Let him keep it as a consola-
tion.’
‘Bravo, Mitya! You’re a trump, Mitya!’ cried Grushenka,
and there was a note of fierce anger in the exclamation.