"I know what I'm saying: don't lie. You have the watch: give it to me."
"No. I haven't got your watch."
"And in the drinking-house you—" I began, but David held me back.
"Wassily Tarentiev," he said in a low, threatening voice, "we know for certain that you have the watch. I am in earnest. Give me the watch, and if you don't give it to me—"
Wassily sniffed insolently: "And what will you do with me, then?"
"What? We will both fight with you until you beat us or we beat you."
Wassily laughed: "Fight? It's not the thing for young gentlemen to fight with a servant."
David quickly took hold of Wassily's waistcoat. "True, we are not going to fight with our fists," he said, grinding his teeth. "Listen! I shall give you a knife and take one myself, and we shall see who—Alexis!" he called to me, "go and bring me my large knife: you know—the one with the bone handle: it is lying on the table. I have the other in my pocket."
Wassily nearly fell to the ground. David still held him by the waistcoat. "Have mercy on me, David," he stammered forth, the tears coming into his eyes. "What does this mean? What are you doing? Oh, let me go!"
"I sha'n't let you go, and you need not expect any mercy. If you're afraid to-day, we'll try again to-morrow.—Alexis, where's the knife?"