The bottle of rum was brought： the window-frame， which hindered any one sitting on the outside sill of the window， was being broken out by two footmen， obviously flurried and intimidated by the shouts and directions given by the gentlemen around them.
Anatole with his swaggering air came up to the window. He was longing to break something. He shoved the footmen aside and pulled at the frame， but the frame did not give. He smashed a pane.
“Now then， you’re the strong man，” he turned to Pierre. Pierre took hold of the cross beam， tugged， and with a crash wrenched the oak frame out.
“All out， or they’ll think I’m holding on，” said Dolohov.
“The Englishman’s bragging…it’s a fine feat…eh？” said Anatole.
“Fine，” said Pierre， looking at Dolohov， who with the bottle in his hand had gone up to the window， from which the light of the sky could be seen and the glow of morning and of evening melting into it. Dolohov jumped up on to the window， holding the bottle of rum in his hand. “Listen！” he shouted， standing on the sill and facing the room. Every one was silent.
“I take a bet” （he spoke in French that the Englishman might hear him， and spoke it none too well）…“I take a bet for fifty imperials—like to make it a hundred？” he added， turning to the Englishman.
“Nó， fifty，” said the Englishman.
“Good， for fifty imperials， that I’ll drink off a whole bottle of rum without taking it from my lips. I’ll drink it sitting outside the window， here on this place” （he bent down and pointed to the sloping projection of the wall outside the window）… “and without holding on to anything.…That right？”
“All right，” said the Englishman.
Anatole turned to the Englishman and taking him by the button of his coat， and looking down at him （the Englishman was a short man）， he began repeating the terms of the wager in English.
“Wait a minute！” shouted Dolohov， striking the bottle on the window to call attention. “Wait a minute， Kuragin； listen： if any one does the same thing， I’ll pay him a hundred imperials. Do you understand？”
The Englishman nodded without making it plain whether be intended to take this new bet or not.
Anatole persisted in keeping hold of the Englishman， and although the latter， nodding， gave him to understand that he comprehended fully， Anatole translated Dolohov’s words into English. A thin， youthful hussar， who had been losing at cards that evening， slipped up to the window， poked his head out and looked down.
“Oo！…oo！…oo！” he said looking out of the window at the pavement below.
“Shut up！” cried Dolohov， and he pushed the officer away， so that， tripping over his spurs， he went skipping awkwardly into the room.
