He was a man of about sixty, gray-haired and respectable. His ruddy face shone with genial humor; his eyes sparkled and a constant smile hovered around his lips.
Naroumov presented Herman. The host gave him a cordial handshake, begged him not to stand upon ceremony, and returned, to his dealing. More than thirty cards were already on the table. Tchekalinsky paused after each coup, to allow the punters time to recognize their gains or losses, politely answering all questions and constantly smiling.
After the deal was over, the cards were shuffled and the game began again.
"Permit me to choose a card," said Herman, stretching out his hand over the head of a portly gentleman, to reach a livret. The banker bowed without replying.
Herman chose a card, and wrote the amount of his stake upon it with a piece of chalk.
"How much is that?" asked the banker; "excuse me, sir, but I do not see well."
"Forty thousand rubles," said Herman coolly.
All eyes were instantly turned upon the speaker.
"He has lost his wits," thought Naroumov.
"Allow me to observe," said Tchekalinsky, with his eternal smile, "that your stake is excessive."