"I will not!" Tchichikoff exclaimed, but at the same time he raised his hands towards his face ready for any contingency, because the matter threatened to become rather hot. This precaution was taken in good time, because Nosdrieff in his excitement had raised his hand, and it might easily have happened, that one of the full and agreeable cheeks of our hero, would have been covered with dishonour, which could not be washed away; but he fortunately succeeded in escaping the blow, and seized the madly infuriated Nosdrieff by both hands, and held him tightly.
"Porphir! Ivan!" shouted Nosdrieff in his madness, whilst striving to liberate himself from Tchichikoff's powerful grasp.
Hearing these names, Tchichikoff, in order not to have the servants witnesses to a scandalous scene, and feeling convinced also, that to holding Nosdrieff any longer would be of no advantage to him, he let loose his hands. At that same moment, Porphir entered the room followed by Ivan, a herculean looking fellow, with whom it would not have been advisable to pick a quarrel.
"Then you refuse to finish the game?" said Nosdrieff. "Give me a positive answer quickly, you obstinate blockhead!"
"It is impossible to finish the game," answered Tchichikoff, and looked out of the window at the same time; he beheld his britchka, which was standing there quite ready, and Selifan seemed to wait but for a signal to drive up to the door; but it was impossible for Tchichikoff to leave the room, the door was guarded by two powerful slaves and tools of Nosdrieffs.
"Then you positively refuse to finish the game?" demanded again Nosdrieff, with a face as red hot as fire.
"If you had been playing as becomes a gentleman, I would have finished it, but now I cannot."
"Ah! you say you cannot, you humbug, when you see that you are likely to lose the game, then it is that you cannot play! Horsewhip him," he shouted, in a hoarse and infuriated voice, whilst turning towards Porphir and Ivan, and seizing himself a long cherry pipe tube. Tchichikoff became as pale and white as a sheet. He had evidently an intention to say something, but he felt, that his lips moved without speaking a word.
"Horsewhip him!" Nosdrieff again shouted, rushing forward, with the cherry tube uplifted in his hand, all excited and perspiring, as if he was about to storm an impregnable fortress. "Beat him!" he shouted in the same voice with which, in the heat of an onset some valorous lieutenant would address his men and say, "forward, children," and whose daring has become so well known throughout the regiment, that special orders are always given that he should be kept back with the rear guard, whenever an action of importance is undertaken.
But the fortress, against which Nosdrieff was storming, was far from being impregnable, on the contrary, its outworks betrayed her inward weakness, and its fear was so great, that the commander-in-chief—the soul—went to hide himself in his heels.