XVI
A crowd of people were in the large barrack-room—naval, artillery, and infantry officers. Some slept, others talked, sitting on a chest of some kind and on the carriage of a garrison gun, but the largest and noisiest group sat on two Cossack cloaks spread on the floor beyond the arch, and were drinking porter and playing cards.
“Ah, Kozeltsóf! Kozeltsóf! … So you’ve come! That’s good. … You’re a brick. … How’s your wound?” It was evident that here also he was liked, and his return gave pleasure.
When he had shaken hands with those he knew, Kozeltsóf joined the noisy group of officers playing cards. With some of them he was acquainted. A thin, dark, handsome man, with a long thin nose and large moustaches which grew out to his cheeks, kept the bank, and dealt the cards with thin, white fingers, on one of which he wore a large seal-ring with a crest. He dealt straight on and carelessly, being evidently excited about something, and only trying to appear at ease. At his right lay a grey-haired Major leaning on his elbows, who, with affected coolness, kept staking half-roubles and paying at once. On his left squatted an officer with a red, perspiring face, smiling unnaturally and joking. When his cards lost, he kept fumbling with one hand in his empty trouser-pocket. He was playing high, but evidently no longer for ready-money, and it was this that upset the handsome dark man. A bald, thin, pale officer with a huge nose and mouth paced the room with a large bundle of paper-money in his hand, and continually staked va-banque for ready money and won. Kozeltsóf drank a glass of vodka and sat down with the players.
“Stake something, Michael Semyónitch!” said the banker: “you’ve brought back lots of money, I’m sure.”
“How should I get money! On the contrary, what I had I’ve spent in the town.”
“Never! … You’ve surely cleared someone out in Simferópol!”
“I’ve really very little,” said Kozeltsóf, but, evidently not wishing to be believed, he unbuttoned his uniform and took up an old pack of cards.
“Well, suppose I have a try; who knows what the devil may do for one! Even a mosquito, you know, wins his battles sometimes. Only I must have a drink to keep up my courage.”
And soon, having drunk another glass of vodka and some porter, he lost his last three roubles.
A hundred and fifty roubles were noted down against the little perspiring officer.
“No, I’ve no luck,” he said carelessly, preparing another card.
“I’ll trouble you to send up the money,” said the banker, ceasing for a moment to deal the cards and looking at him.
“Allow me to send it tomorrow,” answered the perspiring officer, rising and fumbling with renewed vigour in his empty pocket.
“H’m!” bellowed the banker, and angrily throwing to the right and left, he finished the deal.
“But this won’t do. I quit the bank. This won’t do, Zahár Ivánitch,” he repeated; “we are playing for ready money and not on credit.”
“What! don’t you trust me? It’s really too ridiculous!”
“Who is going to pay me?” muttered the Major, who had won some eight roubles. “I have paid up more than twenty roubles and when I win I get nothing.”
“How am I to pay,” said the banker, “if there is no money on the board?”
“That’s not my business,” shouted the Major, rising; “I’m playing with you, and not with them.”
The perspiring officer suddenly flared up:
“I shall pay tomorrow, I tell you. How dare you say such things to me?”
“I shall say what I please! That’s no way to behave. There now!” shouted the Major.
“That’s enough, Fyódor Fyódoritch!” said everyone, restraining the Major.
But let us hasten to drop the curtain on this scene. Tomorrow, or today, perhaps each of these men will cheerfully and proudly go to face death, and die steadfastly and calmly; but the only relief in these inhuman conditions, horrible even to the coldest imagination, and from which there is no hope of escape, is to forget and to destroy consciousness. Deep in each soul dwells a noble spark, capable of making him a hero; but the spark wearies of burning—a fateful moment may come when it will flash into flame and illuminate great deeds.