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Updated: June 15, 2025
At midnight Zourine brought me back to the inn. Saveliitch met us at the door, and uttered a cry of horror when he saw the unmistakable signs of my "zeal for the service." "What has happened to thee?" said he, in heart-broken accents; "where have you been filling yourself like a sack? Oh! heavenly father! a misfortune like this never came before."
Zourine encouraged me in a loud tone; he was astonished at my rapid progress, and after a few lesson he proposed to play for money, were it only two kopecks, not for the gain, merely to avoid playing for nothing, which was, according to him, a very bad habit. I agreed.
What was my surprise when, in a momentary glance at him, I recognized in him that very Iván Ivánovitch Zourine who had so well fleeced me in the Simbirsk inn! "Is it possible?" cried I. "Iván Ivánovitch, is it you?" "Ah, bah! Petr' Andréjïtch! By what chance, and where do you drop from? Good day, brother, won't you punt a card?" "Thanks rather give me a lodging." "What, lodging do you want?
I agreed to this, and Zourine called for punch; then he advised me to taste it, always repeating that I must get accustomed to the service. "And what," said he, "would the service be without punch?" I followed his advice. We continued playing, and the more I sipped my glass, the bolder I became. My balls flew beyond the cushions. I got angry; I was impertinent to the marker who scored for us.
I learnt that his name was Iván Ivánovitch Zourine, that he commanded a troop in the th Hussars, that he was recruiting just now at Simbirsk, and that he had established himself at the same inn as myself. Zourine asked me to lunch with him, soldier fashion, and, as we say, on what Heaven provides.
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