more than he has in his pocket, and feeling that he can never make up
his account, continues to plunge on unlucky cards--not because he hopes
to regain his losses, but because it will not do for him to stop and
consider. So, I merely laughed in an impudent fashion and flung away
from my monitor.

After "cat and mouse", another game followed in which the gentlemen sit
on one row of chairs and the ladies on another, and choose each other
for partners. The youngest princess always chose the younger Iwin,
Katenka either Woloda or Ilinka, and Sonetchka Seriosha--nor, to my
extreme astonishment, did Sonetchka seem at all embarrassed when her
cavalier went and sat down beside her. On the contrary, she only laughed
her sweet, musical laugh, and made a sign with her head that he had
chosen right. Since nobody chose me, I always had the mortification of
finding myself left over, and of hearing them say, "Who has been left
out? Oh, Nicolinka. Well, DO take him, somebody." Consequently, whenever
it came to my turn to guess who had chosen me, I had to go either to
my sister or to one of the ugly elder princesses. Sonetchka seemed so
absorbed in Seriosha that in her eyes I clearly existed no longer. I do
not quite know why I called her "the traitress" in my thoughts, since
she had never promised to choose me instead of Seriosha, but, for all
that, I felt convinced that she was treating me in a very abominable
fashion. After the game was finished, I actually saw "the traitress"
(from whom I nevertheless could not withdraw my eyes) go with Seriosha
and Katenka into a corner, and engage in secret confabulation.
Stealing softly round the piano which masked the conclave, I beheld the
following:

Katenka was holding up a pocket-handkerchief by two of its corners, so
as to form a screen for the heads of her two companions. "No, you have