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Updated: October 5, 2026
"You would give yourself away, sooner than that unlucky dog?" "I belong to my mother. But he belongs to me, and I never, never will part with him!" "Jacta est alea!" muttered the lawyer, still smiling. "Mr. Palma, I hope you will excuse me. It may seem very selfish and obstinate in me, and perhaps it really is so, but I can't help it.
But in any case, whether I shall be left vanquished or victorious, that very evening I shall take my bag, my beggar's bag. I shall leave all my goods and chattels, all your presents, all your pensions and promises of future benefits, and go forth on foot to end my life a tutor in a merchant's family or to die somewhere of hunger in a ditch. I have said it. Alea jacta eat." He got up again.
You will set off nowhere, to no merchant; you'll end very peaceably on my hands, taking your pension, and receiving your utterly impossible friends on Tuesdays. Good-bye, Stepan Trofimovitch." "Alea jacta est!" He made her a deep bow, and returned home, almost dead with emotion. The date of the fete was definitely fixed, and Von Lembke became more and more depressed.