“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.