Anya sees that Andrey has let twenty-eight slip. At any other time she would have pointed it out to him, but now when her vanity lies in the saucer with the kopecks, she is triumphant.
"Twenty-three!" Grisha goes on, "Semyon Semyonitch! Nine!"
"A beetle, a beetle," cries Sonya, pointing to a beetle running across the table. "Aie!"
"Don't kill it," says Alyosha, in his deep bass, "perhaps it's got children. . . ."
Sonya follows the black beetle with her eyes and wonders about its children: what tiny little beetles they must be!
"Forty-three!, One!" Grisha goes on, unhappy at the thought that Anya has already made two fours. "Six!"
"Game! I have got the game!" cries Sonya, rolling her eyes coquettishly and giggling.
The players' countenances lengthen.
" Must make sure!" says Grisha, looking with hatred at Sonya.
Exercising his rights as a big boy, and the cleverest, Grisha takes upon himself to decide. What he wants, that they do. Sonya's reckoning is slowly and carefully verified, and to the great regret of her fellow players, it appears that she has not cheated. Another game is begun.
"I did see something yesterday!" says Anya, as though to herself. "Filipp Filippitch turned his eyelids inside out somehow and his eyes looked red and dreadful, like an evil spirit's."
"I saw it too," says Grisha. "Eight! And a boy at our school can move his ears. Twenty-seven!"
