No, it can't be! Surely it will all end in nothing!" He was flushed and bathed in perspiration, though the room was not hot.

His face was terrible and piteous to see, especially from its helpless efforts to seem calm.

The score against him reached the fateful sum of forty-three thousand.

Rostov had just prepared a card, by bending the corner of which he meant to double the three thousand just put down to his score, when Dolokhov, slamming down the pack of cards, put it aside and began rapidly adding up the total of Rostov's debt, breaking the chalk as he marked the figures in his clear, bold hand.

"Supper, it's time for supper! And here are the gypsies!" Some swarthy men and women were really entering from the cold outside and saying something in their gypsy accents.