AT the house of Naroumov, a cavalry officer, the long winter night had
been passed in gambling. At five in the morning breakfast was served
to the weary players. The winners ate with relish; the losers, on the
contrary, pushed back their plates and sat brooding gloomily. Under
the influence of the good wine, however, the conversation then became
general.

"Well, Sourine?" said the host inquiringly.

"Oh, I lost as usual. My luck is abominable. No matter how cool I keep,
I never win."

"How is it, Herman, that you never touch a card?" remarked one of the
men, addressing a young officer of the Engineering Corps. "Here you are
with the rest of us at five o'clock in the morning, and you have neither
played nor bet all night."