III.
Lukhnof took two candles, brought out a huge dark-colored pocket-book full of money; slowly, as though performing some sacrament, opened it on the table; took out two one-hundred-ruble notes, and laid them on the cards.
"There, just the same as last evening; the bank begins with two hundred," said he, adjusting his glasses, and opening a pack of cards.
"Very well," said Ilyin, not glancing at him, or interrupting his conversation with Turbin.
The game began. Lukhnof kept the bank with mechanical regularity, occasionally pausing, and deliberately making notes, or looking sternly over his glasses, and saying in a weak voice, "Throw."
The stout proprietor talked louder than the rest, making various calculations at the top of his voice, while he wet his clumsy fingers and dog-eared his cards.
The garrison officer silently wrote in a fine hand his account on a card, turned down small corners, pressing them against the table.
The Greek sat next the banker, attentively following the game with his deep black eyes, as though waiting for something.
Zavalshevsky, as he stood by the table, would suddenly become all of a tremble, draw from his trousers-pocket a blue note or a red,[63] lay a card on it, pound on it with his palm, and say, "Bring me luck, little seven!" then he would bite his mustache, change from one leg to the other, and be in a continual state of excitement until the card came out.
Ilyin, who had been eating veal and cucumbers placed near him on the haircloth sofa, briskly wiped his hands on his coat, and began to put down one card after another.