"
They were silent.
"Will you have a game of chess?" Constantine asked after a while.
"Yes...But no, I think not," Sergius replied.
"Just one game?"
"Just one? Well, only one!"
They sat down and played chess. Constantine was dressed in a rumpled
Lyceum uniform; he wore rings on his fingers, like the general and
Sergius, and an antique gold chain hung round his neck.
Being in constant dread of requisitioners and robbers they had
divided all the jewellery between them, and wore it for safety.
The brothers played one game, then a second, a fourth, a sixth--
smoking and quarrelling, disagreeing over the moves and trying to re-
arrange them. The general returned from the ration queue in the
market and came along the passage. He peeped in at the two players
through the open door, and after some hesitation decided to enter.
"Greenhorns, you don't know how to play!" he said.
"What do you mean? Don't know how to play?"
"Now, now, don't fly into a rage. If I am wrong--excuse an old man ...
I sent Kirka for the newspaper, I gave him a twenty copeck piece
for a tip."
"I am not in a rage!"
"Very well, then that's all right. But throw over your chess. Let us
play a game of chance."
They sat down and played it for the entire day, only interrupting the
game to go to their rooms for dinner.
Whenever Sergius had to pay a fine he would say:
"Anyhow, Kirill Lvovich, you have an objectionable manner.
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