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"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay,

and have seen Fraulein Mathilde."

"Weally! And I've been losing, bwother. I lost yesterday like a

damned fool!" cried Denisov, not pronouncing his r's. "Such ill

luck! Such ill luck. As soon as you left, it began and went on.

Hullo there! Tea!"

Puckering up his face though smiling, and showing his short

strong teeth, he began with stubby fingers of both hands to

ruffle up his thick tangled black hair.

"And what devil made me go to that wat?" (an officer nicknamed

"the rat") he said, rubbing his forehead and whole face with both

hands. "Just fancy, he didn't let me win a single cahd, not one

cahd."

He took the lighted pipe that was offered to him, gripped it in

his fist, and tapped it on the floor, making the sparks fly,

while he continued to shout.

"He lets one win the singles and collahs it as soon as one

doubles it; gives the singles and snatches the doubles!"