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"
"But you can't refuse to," said Nozdrev, growing heated. "You see, the
game has begun."
"Nevertheless, I have a right not to continue it, seeing that you are
not playing as an honest man should do."
"You are lying--you cannot truthfully say that."
"'Tis you who are lying."
"But I have NOT cheated. Consequently you cannot refuse to play, but
must continue the game to a finish."
"You cannot force me to play," retorted Chichikov coldly as, turning
to the chessboard, he swept the pieces into confusion.
Nozdrev approached Chichikov with a manner so threatening that the
other fell back a couple of paces.
"I WILL force you to play," said Nozdrev. "It is no use you making a
mess of the chessboard, for I can remember every move. We will replace
the chessmen exactly as they were."
"No, no, my friend. The game is over, and I play you no more."
"You say that you will not?"
"Yes. Surely you can see for yourself that such a thing is
impossible?"
"That cock won't fight. Say at once that you refuse to play with me."
And Nozdrev approached a step nearer.
"Very well; I DO say that," replied Chichikov, and at the same
moment raised his hands towards his face, for the dispute was growing
heated. Nor was the act of caution altogether unwarranted, for Nozdrev
also raised his fist, and it may be that one of her hero's plump,
pleasant-looking cheeks would have sustained an indelible insult had
not he (Chichikov) parried the blow and, seizing Nozdrev by his
whirling arms, held them fast.
"Porphyri! Pavlushka!" shouted Nozdrev as madly he strove to free himself.
On hearing the words, Chichikov, both because he wished to avoid
rendering the servants witnesses of the unedifying scene and because
he felt that it would be of no avail to hold Nozdrev any longer, let
go of the latter's arms; but at the same moment Porphyri and Pavlushka
entered the room--a pair of stout rascals with whom it would be unwise
to meddle.
"Do you, or do you not, intend to finish the game?" said Nozdrev.
"Give me a direct answer."
"No; it will not be possible to finish the game," replied Chichikov,
glancing out of the window. He could see his britchka standing ready
for him, and Selifan evidently awaiting orders to draw up to the
entrance steps. But from the room there was no escape, since in the
doorway was posted the couple of well-built serving-men.
"Then it is as I say? You refuse to finish the game?" repeated
Nozdrev, his face as red as fire.
"I would have finished it had you played like a man of honour. But, as
it is, I cannot."
"You cannot, eh, you villain? You find that you cannot as soon as you
find that you are not winning? Thrash him, you fellows!" And as he
spoke Nozdrev grasped the cherrywood shank of his pipe. Chichikov
turned as white as a sheet. He tried to say something, but his
quivering lips emitted no sound. "Thrash him!" again shouted Nozdrev
as he rushed forward in a state of heat and perspiration more proper
to a warrior who is attacking an impregnable fortress.
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