I took his advice, and we continued to play; the more I tasted of my glass the bolder I grew. I made the balls fly over the cushions; I was angry with the marker who was counting. Heaven knows why. I increased the stake, and behaved, altogether, like a boy just cut free, for the first time, from his mother's apron-strings. The time passed quickly. At last, Zourine glanced at the clock, laid down his cue, and said that I had lost a hundred roubles to him.
I was in great confusion, because my money was all in the hands of Saveliitch. I began to mumble excuses, when Zourine exclaimed, "Oh! well! Good God! I can wait till morning; don't be distressed about it. Now let us go to supper." What could I do? I finished the day as foolishly as I began it.
Zourine never ceased pouring out drinks for me; advising me to become accustomed to the service. Rising from table, I could scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine brought me back to the inn.
Saveliitch met us at the door, and uttered a cry of horror when he saw the unmistakable signs of my "zeal for the service."
"What has happened to thee?" said he, in heart-broken accents; "where have you been filling yourself like a sack? Oh! heavenly father! a misfortune like this never came before."
"Silence! old owl," said I, stammering, "I am sure you are drunk yourself; go to bed, but first put me there."
I awoke next morning with a severe headache; the events of the evening I recalled vaguely, but my recollections became vivid at the sight of Saveliitch who came to me with a cup of tea.
"You begin young, Peter Grineff," said the old men, shaking his head. "Eh! from whom do you inherit it? Neither your father nor grandfather were drunkards. Your mother's name can not be mentioned; she never deigned to taste any thing but cider. Whose fault is it then? That cursed Frenchman's; he taught three fine things, that miserable dog-- that pagan--for thy teacher, as if his lordship, thy father, had not people of his own."
I was ashamed before the old man; I turned my face away saying, "I do not want any tea, go away, Saveliitch." It was not easy to stop Saveliitch, once he began to preach.
"Now, Peter, you see what it is to play the fool. You have a headache, you have no appetite, a drunkard is good for nothing. Here, take some of this decoction of cucumber and honey, or half a glass of brandy to sober you. What do you say to that?"