Chapter Summaries: Dole: Nikolai's losses. "When will you pay me?"
Briggs: Nikolay ends up owing 43,000 roubles.
Translation:
XIV. In the time of an hour and a half the majority of the gamblers now jokingly looked at their own game. All of the game was focused on Rostov alone. Instead of the thousand and six hundred rubles for him was recorded a long column of numbers, which he counted to ten thousand, but which now, as he vaguely assumed, rose now to fifteen thousand. In the entities of the record now exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolohov now did not listen and did not tell stories; he watched every movement of the hands of Rostov and fluently looked around occasionally at his record for him. He decided to continue the game until this record rose to forty three thousand. This number was selected by him because of how forty three formed the amount of his years with the years of Sonya. Rostov, leaning his head in both hands, sat before the scattered, poured wine, overwhelmed by the cards on the table. One excruciating impression did not leave him: this broad, reddish hand with hair, prominent from below his shirt, this hand, which he loved and hated, held him in his authority. "Six hundred rubles, ace, corner, nine ... to recoup is impossible!... And how it would be fun to be at home... Jack on no... this may not be!... and what for again he does this to me?..." thought and remembered Rostov. Sometimes he set a big card; but Dolohov refused to beat it, and himself appointed the jackpot. Nikolay obeyed him, and prayed that God, as he prayed on the field of the battle on the Amstetten bridge; that made up what was on that card, which his first hit on the hand of the heaps of curved cards under the table will save him; then calculated how much was the cord on his jacket and with so many of the same points on cards tried to set in all of the losing, then for help looked around at the other playing, then peered at the now cold face of Dolohov, and tried to penetrate what was in him. "Because he knows what this losing means for me. Maybe he again does not want my destruction? Because he was my friend. Because I loved him... but he is not to blame; what is for him to do, when he carries happiness? And I am not to blame, he spoke to himself. I did nothing evil. Did I kill someone, snubbed, or wished evil? For what again is such a terrible misfortune? And when did it start? Still so recently I was approaching this table with the thought of winning one hundred rubles, to buy mama for her name day this casket and go home. I was so happy, so free and happy! And I did not understand then, how I was happy! When again this is finished, and when started this new, terrible state? When marked this turn? I all so the same sat at this location, at this desk, and so the same chose and put forward cards, and watched this broad, adroit hand. When again was this subjected, and what so subjected it? I am healthy, strong and all the same, and all in this same location. No, this may not be! Right, all this is finishing in nothing." He was red, all in sweat, despite that in the room it was not hot. And his face was fearful and pitiful, especially powerlessly wishing to seem calm. The record reached to the fatal numbers of forty three thousand. Rostov prepared the card, which should go to the corner for three thousand rubles, only that his information, when Dolohov banged the deck, put it aside and, took a piece of chalk, started quickly in his clear, strong handwriting, broke the chalk, letting down the total entry of Rostov. — Have supper, have time for supper! Here are the gypsies! — really from a gypsy accent already entered from the cold and saying something to some black men and women. Nikolay understood that all was over; but he in an indifferent voice said: — What again, will there not still be more? But I have some nice cards prepared. — as if only more of his interest was in the most fun game. "All is over, I am gone! — he thought. — Now a bullet in the forehead — stay for another," he said together with that fun voice: — Well, still one card. — Okay, — was the response of Dolohov, finishing the total, — okay! 21 rubles is going, — he said, pointing at the number 21, which was rooted flat in the score of 43 thousand, and taking the deck, prepared to throw. Rostov dutifully bent back the corner and instead of the prepared 6000 carefully wrote 21. — This is all I care, — he said, — to me it is only interesting to know you will beat me, or if you’ll give me this ten. Dolohov seriously had begun to throw. Oh, how Rostov hated in this moment this hand, reddish with short fingers and with hair, prominent from below his shirt, having him in his authority... The ten was given. — For you 43 thousand, count, — said Dolohov, stretching to get up from behind the table. — However you get tired sitting so long, — he said. — Yes, and I am also tired, — said Rostov. Dolohov, as if to remind him that it was indecent to joke, interrupted him: — When to order to get the money, count? Rostov flaring up, called Dolohov into another room. — I cannot suddenly pay everything, you will take a bill of credit, — he said. — Listen, Rostov, — said Dolohov, clearly smiling and looking in the eyes of Nikolay, — you know the proverb: "Happy in love, unhappy in cards." Your cousin fell in love with you. I know. — "Ah! This is a terrible feeling to be in the authority of this human," — thought Rostov. Rostov understood that the stroke he would inflict on his father and mother in declaring this losing; he understood what happiness would be ridden from only this, and understood that Dolohov knew that he may rid him from this shame and grief, and now wanted to still play with him, as a cat with a mouse. — Your cousin... — wanted to say Dolohov; but Nikolay interrupted him. — My cousin is here or there, and about her there is nothing to speak! — he shouted with madness. — So when will I get it? — asked Dolohov. — Tomorrow, — said Rostov, and got out from the room.
Time: an hour and a half later
Mentioned: to-morrow
Locations: see previous chapter
Mentioned: bridge at Amstetten, the Rostovs' home
Pevear and Volkhonsky: hour and half time jump, “most of the players looked upon their own game as a joke. The whole game was concentrated on Rostov alone.”
Briggs: Nikolay ends up owing 43,000 roubles.
Translation:
XIV. In the time of an hour and a half the majority of the gamblers now jokingly looked at their own game. All of the game was focused on Rostov alone. Instead of the thousand and six hundred rubles for him was recorded a long column of numbers, which he counted to ten thousand, but which now, as he vaguely assumed, rose now to fifteen thousand. In the entities of the record now exceeded twenty thousand rubles. Dolohov now did not listen and did not tell stories; he watched every movement of the hands of Rostov and fluently looked around occasionally at his record for him. He decided to continue the game until this record rose to forty three thousand. This number was selected by him because of how forty three formed the amount of his years with the years of Sonya. Rostov, leaning his head in both hands, sat before the scattered, poured wine, overwhelmed by the cards on the table. One excruciating impression did not leave him: this broad, reddish hand with hair, prominent from below his shirt, this hand, which he loved and hated, held him in his authority. "Six hundred rubles, ace, corner, nine ... to recoup is impossible!... And how it would be fun to be at home... Jack on no... this may not be!... and what for again he does this to me?..." thought and remembered Rostov. Sometimes he set a big card; but Dolohov refused to beat it, and himself appointed the jackpot. Nikolay obeyed him, and prayed that God, as he prayed on the field of the battle on the Amstetten bridge; that made up what was on that card, which his first hit on the hand of the heaps of curved cards under the table will save him; then calculated how much was the cord on his jacket and with so many of the same points on cards tried to set in all of the losing, then for help looked around at the other playing, then peered at the now cold face of Dolohov, and tried to penetrate what was in him. "Because he knows what this losing means for me. Maybe he again does not want my destruction? Because he was my friend. Because I loved him... but he is not to blame; what is for him to do, when he carries happiness? And I am not to blame, he spoke to himself. I did nothing evil. Did I kill someone, snubbed, or wished evil? For what again is such a terrible misfortune? And when did it start? Still so recently I was approaching this table with the thought of winning one hundred rubles, to buy mama for her name day this casket and go home. I was so happy, so free and happy! And I did not understand then, how I was happy! When again this is finished, and when started this new, terrible state? When marked this turn? I all so the same sat at this location, at this desk, and so the same chose and put forward cards, and watched this broad, adroit hand. When again was this subjected, and what so subjected it? I am healthy, strong and all the same, and all in this same location. No, this may not be! Right, all this is finishing in nothing." He was red, all in sweat, despite that in the room it was not hot. And his face was fearful and pitiful, especially powerlessly wishing to seem calm. The record reached to the fatal numbers of forty three thousand. Rostov prepared the card, which should go to the corner for three thousand rubles, only that his information, when Dolohov banged the deck, put it aside and, took a piece of chalk, started quickly in his clear, strong handwriting, broke the chalk, letting down the total entry of Rostov. — Have supper, have time for supper! Here are the gypsies! — really from a gypsy accent already entered from the cold and saying something to some black men and women. Nikolay understood that all was over; but he in an indifferent voice said: — What again, will there not still be more? But I have some nice cards prepared. — as if only more of his interest was in the most fun game. "All is over, I am gone! — he thought. — Now a bullet in the forehead — stay for another," he said together with that fun voice: — Well, still one card. — Okay, — was the response of Dolohov, finishing the total, — okay! 21 rubles is going, — he said, pointing at the number 21, which was rooted flat in the score of 43 thousand, and taking the deck, prepared to throw. Rostov dutifully bent back the corner and instead of the prepared 6000 carefully wrote 21. — This is all I care, — he said, — to me it is only interesting to know you will beat me, or if you’ll give me this ten. Dolohov seriously had begun to throw. Oh, how Rostov hated in this moment this hand, reddish with short fingers and with hair, prominent from below his shirt, having him in his authority... The ten was given. — For you 43 thousand, count, — said Dolohov, stretching to get up from behind the table. — However you get tired sitting so long, — he said. — Yes, and I am also tired, — said Rostov. Dolohov, as if to remind him that it was indecent to joke, interrupted him: — When to order to get the money, count? Rostov flaring up, called Dolohov into another room. — I cannot suddenly pay everything, you will take a bill of credit, — he said. — Listen, Rostov, — said Dolohov, clearly smiling and looking in the eyes of Nikolay, — you know the proverb: "Happy in love, unhappy in cards." Your cousin fell in love with you. I know. — "Ah! This is a terrible feeling to be in the authority of this human," — thought Rostov. Rostov understood that the stroke he would inflict on his father and mother in declaring this losing; he understood what happiness would be ridden from only this, and understood that Dolohov knew that he may rid him from this shame and grief, and now wanted to still play with him, as a cat with a mouse. — Your cousin... — wanted to say Dolohov; but Nikolay interrupted him. — My cousin is here or there, and about her there is nothing to speak! — he shouted with madness. — So when will I get it? — asked Dolohov. — Tomorrow, — said Rostov, and got out from the room.
Time: an hour and a half later
Mentioned: to-morrow
Locations: see previous chapter
Mentioned: bridge at Amstetten, the Rostovs' home
Pevear and Volkhonsky: hour and half time jump, “most of the players looked upon their own game as a joke. The whole game was concentrated on Rostov alone.”
“Dolokhov no longer listened or told stories; he watched every moment of Rostov’s hands and from time to time glanced quickly."
He uses 43000 as his cut-off, with 43 being the combo of his age and Sonya’s age. Narration explicitly compares Rostov’s prayer with the prayer he made on the bridge in his first action.
Also compare his naivety when being shot at to: “I’ve done nothing wrong. Did I kill anyone, insult or wish evil to anyone? Why, then, such a terrible misfortune?".
Dolokhov: ‘Lucky in love, unlucky at cards.’ Your cousin’s in love with you. I know it.”
Characters (characters who do not appear, but are mentioned are placed in italics. First appearances are in Bold. First mentions are underlined. Final appearance denoted by *):
Nikolai Rostof
Dolokhof
Sonya
Countess Rostova (“mamma”, interestingly not mentioned last chapter)
(the “Tsigans” or “gypsies are mentioned to have arrived, but not Illyushka by name)
Abridged Versions: No break for Bell.
Gibian: End of Chapter 13.
Gibian: End of Chapter 13.
Fuller: entire chapter is cut.
Komroff: Rostov’s inner monologue is shorter and sentences and details are sniped out. The conversation Rostov and Dolokhov have afterward is almost completely removed. Followed by a line break.
Kropotkin: Chapter 9: Again almost completely preserved besides a couple of small details.
Bromfield: 42 thousand instead of 43 thousand. Rostov also wanted to win the hundred rubles not to buy a gift for his mother, but to go see Elena. The gypsy singers are absent here. The key difference is Rostov and Dolokhov’s
conversation afterward. Dolokhov offers to forgive the debt if Rostov “give(s) her” to him. Rostov challenges Dolokhov, but the latter does not accept. No break.
Simmons: the chapter picks up at "You owe forty-three thousand". Rest of chapter is preserved. End of chapter 13.
conversation afterward. Dolokhov offers to forgive the debt if Rostov “give(s) her” to him. Rostov challenges Dolokhov, but the latter does not accept. No break.
Simmons: the chapter picks up at "You owe forty-three thousand". Rest of chapter is preserved. End of chapter 13.
Edmundson: Act Two Scene 7: Pierre's meeting of Bazdeyev is moved up to here.
Act Two Scene 8: Maria impatiently waits for the doctor for Lisa. Andrei reappears.
Act Two Scene 9: Andrei watches Lisa die and wishes he had been kinder.
Act Two Scene 10: A scene with no dialogue that has Andrei taking the baby, Pierre taking Helene back, and the countess giving Natasha grown-up clothes.
Act Two Scene 11: Boris comes to the Rostovs and narrates to them about the events of Tilsit. Nikolai then talks bad behind Boris's back and his relationship with Helene is established. He then admits to Sonya that he lost a
huge sum at cards to Dolokhov.
Act Two Scene 12: Nikolai tells his father about his losses in cards.
Additional Notes:
Mikaberidze (Page 22): In Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, the main protagonists are immensely rich Muscovites: Pierre Bezukhv has an annual income of half a million rubles, while Nikolai Rostov famously loses 43,000 rubles in a
single card game. Yet, in reality, very few Muscovite nobles were so rich; most of them were landless civil servants who lived on much more modest incomes. When the Russian government began assessing the damage inflicted
by the great fire of 1812, some 281 noble families, who had lost their entire households, submitted their reports, which reveal that the median value of their losses was 2,500 rubles.”
Mikaberidze (Page 22): In Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, the main protagonists are immensely rich Muscovites: Pierre Bezukhv has an annual income of half a million rubles, while Nikolai Rostov famously loses 43,000 rubles in a
single card game. Yet, in reality, very few Muscovite nobles were so rich; most of them were landless civil servants who lived on much more modest incomes. When the Russian government began assessing the damage inflicted
by the great fire of 1812, some 281 noble families, who had lost their entire households, submitted their reports, which reveal that the median value of their losses was 2,500 rubles.”
Tolstoy/Christian: Page 397-398: “This new Moscow life has been agony for me, the like of which I have never experienced in all my life. Not only did I suffer at every steop and at every moment from the incompatibility of my own
life and my family’s and the sight of luxury, dissipation and poverty which I felt myself party to--not only did I suffer, but I became vile and demented, and took a direct and conscious part in that dissipation, eating, drinking, playing
cards, bragging, feeling remorse and being disgusted with myself. My one salvation was writing, and I buried myself in it, without finding peace.”
life and my family’s and the sight of luxury, dissipation and poverty which I felt myself party to--not only did I suffer, but I became vile and demented, and took a direct and conscious part in that dissipation, eating, drinking, playing
cards, bragging, feeling remorse and being disgusted with myself. My one salvation was writing, and I buried myself in it, without finding peace.”
Carroll: Page 37: One night after supper Leo noticed among the gamblers a friend of his, a native named Sado who worked with the Russians. Sado was bright, but he could not add figures. Now he groaned over his gambling
losses. It was obvious that he was being cheated. Leo looked around the table at each guilty face: embarrassed Khilkovsky; flushed Buyemsky; Knorring, who coughed and would not meet his eye....Leo saw him (his Cossack
friend Epishka) as a kind of "noble savage" like those natural men idealized by Rousseau.
losses. It was obvious that he was being cheated. Leo looked around the table at each guilty face: embarrassed Khilkovsky; flushed Buyemsky; Knorring, who coughed and would not meet his eye....Leo saw him (his Cossack
friend Epishka) as a kind of "noble savage" like those natural men idealized by Rousseau.
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