'Well, I say! don't you remember?'
'No, my friend, I have counted every move and I remember them all: you have only just put it there. Its proper place is here!'
'What, which place?' said Nozdryov, turning crimson. 'I see you are a story-teller, old fellow.'
'No, old fellow, it is you who tell stories, I fancy, but you don't tell them successfully.'
'For what do you take me?' said Nozdryov. 'Do you suppose I cheat?'
'I don't take you for anything, but I'll never play with you again.'
'No, you can't refuse,' said Nozdryov, getting hot, 'the game has been begun.'
'I have a right to refuse, for you don't play as an honourable man should.'
'No, that's a lie, you mustn't say that!'
'No, you are lying yourself.'
'I didn't cheat and you can't refuse to go on; you ought to finish the game!'
'You won't make me do that,' said Tchitchikov coolly, and going up to the draughtboard he mixed the draughts together.
Nozdryov flushed crimson and advanced so close to Tchitchikov that the latter stepped back a couple of paces.
'I'll make you play. It does not matter that you have moved the pieces. I remember all the moves. We'll put them back as they were.'
'No, my dear fellow, that's the end: I am not going to play with you again.'
