"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?"

At that instant a boy entered the room with a note for me from Zourine.
I unfolded it and read as follows:

"Do me the favor, my dear Peter, to send me by my servant the hundred
roubles that you lost to me yesterday. I am horribly in want of money.
Your devoted. ZOURINE."

As I was perfectly in his power, I assumed an air of indifference, and
ordered Saveliitch to give a hundred roubles to the boy.

"What? why?" said the old man, surprised.

"I owe that sum," said I, coolly.

"You owe it? When had you time enough to contract such a debt?" said
he, with redoubled astonishment. "No, no, that's impossible. Do what
you like, my lord, but I can not give the money."

I reflected that if in this decisive moment I did not oblige the
obstinate old fellow to obey me, it would be impossible in the
future to escape from his tutelage. Looking at him therefore,
haughtily, I said, "I am thy master; thou art my servant. The
money is mine, and I lost because I chose to lose it; I advise
thee to obey when ordered, and not assume the airs of a master."