PAPA and mamma and Aunt Nadya are not at home. They have gone to a
christening party at the house of that old officer who rides on a
little grey horse. While waiting for them to come home, Grisha,
Anya, Alyosha, Sonya, and the cook's son, Andrey, are sitting at
the table in the dining-room, playing at loto. To tell the truth,
it is bedtime, but how can one go to sleep without hearing from
mamma what the baby was like at the christening, and what they had
for supper? The table, lighted by a hanging lamp, is dotted with
numbers, nutshells, scraps of paper, and little bits of glass. Two
cards lie in front of each player, and a heap of bits of glass for
covering the numbers. In the middle of the table is a white saucer
with five kopecks in it. Beside the saucer, a half-eaten apple, a
pair of scissors, and a plate on which they have been told to put
their nutshells. The children are playing for money. The stake is
a kopeck. The rule is: if anyone cheats, he is turned out at once.
There is no one in the dining-room but the players, and nurse,
Agafya Ivanovna, is in the kitchen, showing the cook how to cut a
pattern, while their elder brother, Vasya, a schoolboy in the fifth
class, is lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, feeling bored.
They are playing with zest. The greatest excitement is expressed
on the face of Grisha. He is a small boy of nine, with a head cropped
so that the bare skin shows through, chubby cheeks, and thick lips
like a negro's. He is already in the preparatory class, and so is
regarded as grown up, and the cleverest. He is playing entirely for
the sake of the money. If there had been no kopecks in the saucer,
he would have been asleep long ago. His brown eyes stray uneasily
and jealously over the other players' cards. The fear that he may
not win, envy, and the financial combinations of which his cropped
head is full, will not let him sit still and concentrate his mind.
He fidgets as though he were sitting on thorns. When he wins, he
snatches up the money greedily, and instantly puts it in his pocket.
His sister, Anya, a girl of eight, with a sharp chin and clever
shining eyes, is also afraid that someone else may win. She flushes
and turns pale, and watches the players keenly. The kopecks do not
interest her. Success in the game is for her a question of vanity.
The other sister, Sonya, a child of six with a curly head, and a
complexion such as is seen only in very healthy children, expensive
dolls, and the faces on bonbon boxes, is playing loto for the process
of the game itself. There is bliss all over her face. Whoever wins,
she laughs and claps her hands. Alyosha, a chubby, spherical little
figure, gasps, breathes hard through his nose, and stares open-eyed
at the cards. He is moved neither by covetousness nor vanity. So
long as he is not driven out of the room, or sent to bed, he is
thankful. He looks phlegmatic, but at heart he is rather a little
beast. He is not there so much for the sake of the loto, as for the
sake of the misunderstandings which are inevitable in the game. He
is greatly delighted if one hits another, or calls him names. He
ought to have run off somewhere long ago, but he won't leave the
table for a minute, for fear they should steal his counters or his
kopecks. As he can only count the units and numbers which end in
nought, Anya covers his numbers for him. The fifth player, the
cook's son, Andrey, a dark-skinned and sickly looking boy in a
cotton shirt, with a copper cross on his breast, stands motionless,
looking dreamily at the numbers. He takes no interest in winning,
or in the success of the others, because he is entirely engrossed
by the arithmetic of the game, and its far from complex theory;
"How many numbers there are in the world," he is thinking, "and how
is it they don't get mixed up?"
They all shout out the numbers in turn, except Sonya and Alyosha.
To vary the monotony, they have invented in the course of time a
number of synonyms and comic nicknames. Seven, for instance, is
called the "ovenrake," eleven the "sticks," seventy-seven "Semyon
Semyonitch," ninety "grandfather," and so on. The game is going
merrily.
"Thirty-two," cries Grisha, drawing the little yellow cylinders out
of his father's cap. "Seventeen! Ovenrake! Twenty-eight! Lay them
straight. . . ."
Anya sees that Andrey has let twenty-eight slip. At any other time
she would have pointed it out to him, but now when her vanity lies
in the saucer with the kopecks, she is triumphant.
"Twenty-three!" Grisha goes on, "Semyon Semyonitch! Nine!"
"A beetle, a beetle," cries Sonya, pointing to a beetle running
across the table. "Aie!"
"Don't kill it," says Alyosha, in his deep bass, "perhaps it's got
children . . . ."
Sonya follows the black beetle with her eyes and wonders about its
children: what tiny little beetles they must be!
"Forty-three! One!" Grisha goes on, unhappy at the thought that
Anya has already made two fours. "Six!"
"Game! I have got the game!" cries Sonya, rolling her eyes coquettishly
and giggling.
The players' countenances lengthen.
"Must make sure!" says Grisha, looking with hatred at Sonya.
Exercising his rights as a big boy, and the cleverest, Grisha takes
upon himself to decide. What he wants, that they do. Sonya's reckoning
is slowly and carefully verified, and to the great regret of her
fellow players, it appears that she has not cheated. Another game
is begun.
"I did see something yesterday!" says Anya, as though to herself.
"Filipp Filippitch turned his eyelids inside out somehow and his
eyes looked red and dreadful, like an evil spirit's."
"I saw it too," says Grisha. "Eight! And a boy at our school can
move his ears. Twenty-seven!"
Andrey looks up at Grisha, meditates, and says:
"I can move my ears too. . . ."
"Well then, move them."
Andrey moves his eyes, his lips, and his fingers, and fancies that
his ears are moving too. Everyone laughs.
"He is a horrid man, that Filipp Filippitch," sighs Sonya. "He came
into our nursery yesterday, and I had nothing on but my chemise
. . . And I felt so improper!"
"Game!" Grisha cries suddenly, snatching the money from the saucer.
"I've got the game! You can look and see if you like."
The cook's son looks up and turns pale.
"Then I can't go on playing any more," he whispers.
"Why not?"
"Because . . . because I have got no more money."
"You can't play without money," says Grisha.
Andrey ransacks his pockets once more to make sure. Finding nothing
in them but crumbs and a bitten pencil, he drops the corners of his
mouth and begins blinking miserably. He is on the point of
crying. . . .
"I'll put it down for you!" says Sonya, unable to endure his look
of agony. "Only mind you must pay me back afterwards."
The money is brought and the game goes on.
"I believe they are ringing somewhere," says Anya, opening her eyes
wide.
They all leave off playing and gaze open-mouthed at the dark window.
The reflection of the lamp glimmers in the darkness.
"It was your fancy."
"At night they only ring in the cemetery," says Andrey.
"And what do they ring there for?"
"To prevent robbers from breaking into the church. They are afraid
of the bells."
"And what do robbers break into the church for?" asks Sonya.
"Everyone knows what for: to kill the watchmen."
A minute passes in silence. They all look at one another, shudder,
and go on playing. This time Andrey wins.
"He has cheated," Alyosha booms out, apropos of nothing.
"What a lie, I haven't cheated."
Andrey turns pale, his mouth works, and he gives Alyosha a slap on
the head! Alyosha glares angrily, jumps up, and with one knee on
the table, slaps Andrey on the cheek! Each gives the other a second
blow, and both howl. Sonya, feeling such horrors too much for her,
begins crying too, and the dining-room resounds with lamentations
on various notes. But do not imagine that that is the end of the
game. Before five minutes are over, the children are laughing and
talking peaceably again. Their faces are tear-stained, but that
does not prevent them from smiling; Alyosha is positively blissful,
there has been a squabble!
Vasya, the fifth form schoolboy, walks into the dining-room. He
looks sleepy and disillusioned.
"This is revolting!" he thinks, seeing Grisha feel in his pockets
in which the kopecks are jingling. "How can they give children
money? And how can they let them play games of chance? A nice way
to bring them up, I must say! It's revolting!"
But the children's play is so tempting that he feels an inclination
to join them and to try his luck.
"Wait a minute and I'll sit down to a game," he says.
"Put down a kopeck!"
"In a minute," he says, fumbling in his pockets. "I haven't a kopeck,
but here is a rouble. I'll stake a rouble."
"No, no, no. . . . You must put down a kopeck."
"You stupids. A rouble is worth more than a kopeck anyway," the
schoolboy explains. "Whoever wins can give me change."
"No, please! Go away!"
The fifth form schoolboy shrugs his shoulders, and goes into the
kitchen to get change from the servants. It appears there is not a
single kopeck in the kitchen.
"In that case, you give me change," he urges Grisha, coming back
from the kitchen. "I'll pay you for the change. Won't you? Come,
give me ten kopecks for a rouble."
Grisha looks suspiciously at Vasya, wondering whether it isn't some
trick, a swindle.
"I won't," he says, holding his pockets.
Vasya begins to get cross, and abuses them, calling them idiots and
blockheads.
"I'll put down a stake for you, Vasya!" says Sonya. "Sit down." He
sits down and lays two cards before him. Anya begins counting the
numbers.
"I've dropped a kopeck!" Grisha announces suddenly, in an agitated
voice. "Wait!"
He takes the lamp, and creeps under the table to look for the kopeck.
They clutch at nutshells and all sorts of nastiness, knock their
heads together, but do not find the kopeck. They begin looking
again, and look till Vasya takes the lamp out of Grisha's hands and
puts it in its place. Grisha goes on looking in the dark. But at
last the kopeck is found. The players sit down at the table and
mean to go on playing.
"Sonya is asleep!" Alyosha announces.
Sonya, with her curly head lying on her arms, is in a sweet, sound,
tranquil sleep, as though she had been asleep for an hour. She has
fallen asleep by accident, while the others were looking for the
kopeck.
"Come along, lie on mamma's bed!" says Anya, leading her away from
the table. "Come along!"
They all troop out with her, and five minutes later mamma's bed
presents a curious spectacle. Sonya is asleep. Alyosha is snoring
beside her. With their heads to the others' feet, sleep Grisha and
Anya. The cook's son, Andrey too, has managed to snuggle in beside
them. Near them lie the kopecks, that have lost their power till
the next game. Good-night!