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Rostov, his eyes avoiding Denisov, began buttoning his coat,

buckled on his saber, and put on his cap.

"I must have that purse, I tell you," shouted Denisov, shaking

his orderly by the shoulders and knocking him against the wall.

"Denisov, let him alone, I know who has taken it," said Rostov,

going toward the door without raising his eyes. Denisov paused,

thought a moment, and, evidently understanding what Rostov hinted

at, seized his arm.

"Nonsense!" he cried, and the veins on his forehead and neck

stood out like cords. "You are mad, I tell you. I won't allow it.

The purse is here! I'll flay this scoundwel alive, and it will be

found."

"I know who has taken it," repeated Rostov in an unsteady voice,

and went to the door.

"And I tell you, don't you dahe to do it!" shouted Denisov,

rushing at the cadet to restrain him.

But Rostov pulled away his arm and, with as much anger as though

Denisov were his worst enemy, firmly fixed his eyes directly on

his face.