Turbin, who had taken his seat at first on the sofa, immediately noticed that something was wrong. Lukhnof did not look at the uhlan, or say any thing to him; but occasionally his eyes for an instant rested on the uhlan's hands. The most of his cards lost.
"If I could only trump that little card," exclaimed Lukhnof in reference to one of the stout proprietor's cards. He was still making half-ruble wagers.
"Trump Ilyin's instead: what would be the use of trumping mine?" replied the proprietor.
And, in point of fact, Ilyin's cards were trumped oftener than the others'. He nervously tore up his losing card under the table, and with trembling hands chose another.
Turbin arose from the sofa, and asked the Greek to give him his place next the banker. The Greek changed places; and the count, taking his chair, and not moving his eyes, began to watch Lukhnof's hands attentively.
"Ilyin," said he suddenly in his ordinary voice, which, entirely contrary to his desire, drowned out the others, "why do you stick to those routine cards? You don't know how to play!"
"Supposing I don't, it's all the same."
"You'll lose that way surely. Let me play against the bank for you."
"No, excuse me, I beg of you. I'm always this way. Play for yourself if you like."
"I have told you that I am not going to play. But I should like to play for you. I hate to see you losing so."