“Capital! Bravo!

“Capital! Bravo! That’s something like a bet. You’re a devil of a fellow!” came shouts from all sides.

The Englishman took out his purse and counted out the money. Dolohov frowned and did not speak. Pierre dashed up to the window.

“Gentlemen. Who’ll take a bet with me? I’ll do the same!” he shouted suddenly. “I don’t care about betting; see here, tell them to give me a bottle. I’ll do it.…Tell them to give it here.”

“Let him, let him!” said Dolohov, smiling.

“What, are you mad? No one would let you. Why, you turn giddy going downstairs,” various persons protested.

“I’ll drink it; give me the bottle of rum,” roared Pierre, striking the table with a resolute, drunken gesture, and he climbed into the window. They clutched at his arms; but he was so strong that he shoved every one far away who came near him.

“No, there’s no managing him like that,” said Anatole. “Wait a bit, I’ll get round him.…Listen, I’ll take your bet, but for to-morrow, for we’re all going on now to…”

“Yes, come along,” shouted Pierre, “come along.…And take Mishka with us.”…And he caught hold of the bear, and embracing it and lifting it up, began waltzing round the room with it.