Lukhnof shrugged his shoulders as though to express his regret at not being able to fulfil the count's desires.
"Will you not play under any consideration?"
The same gesture.
"I am very desirous of playing with you.... Say, will you play, or not?"
Silence.
"Will you play?" asked the count a second time.
The same silence, and a quick glance over his glasses at the count's face, which was beginning to grow sinister.
"Will you play?" cried the count in a loud voice, striking his hand on the table so violently that the bottle of Rheinwein toppled over and the wine ran out. "You have been cheating, have you not? Will you play? I ask you the third time."
"I have told you, no! This is truly strange, count, ... perfectly unjustifiable, to come this way, and put your knife at a man's throat," remarked Lukhnof, not lifting his eyes.
A brief silence followed, during which the count's face grew paler and paler. Suddenly Lukhnof received a terrible blow on the head, which stunned him. He fell back on the divan, trying to grasp the money, and screamed in a penetratingly despairing tone, such as was scarcely to be expected from him, he was always so calm and imposing in his deportment.