LITMIR.BIZ

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means he’s a scout, and wants the Colonel,” explained Panov to his comrades.

      “Prince Vorontsov … much want! Big business!” said Bata.

      “All right, all right! We’ll take you to him,” said Panov. “I say, you’d better take them,” said he to Avdeev, “you and Bondarenko; and when you’ve given them up to the officer on duty come back again. Mind,” he added, “be careful to make them keep in front of you!”

      “And what of this?” said Avdeev, moving his gun and bayonet as though stabbing someone. “I’s just give a dig, and let the steam out of him!”

      “What’ll he be worth when you’ve stuck him?” remarked Bondarenko.

      “Now, march!”

      When the steps of the two soldiers conducting the scouts could no longer be heard, Panov and Nikitin returned to their post.

      “What the devil brings them here at night?” said Nikitin.

      “Seems it’s necessary,” said panov. “But it’s getting chilly,” he added, and unrolling his cloak he put it on and sat down by the tree.

      About two hours later Avdeev and Bondarenko returned.

      “Well, have you handed them over?”

      “Yes. They weren’t yet asleep at the Colonel’s – they were taken straight in to him. And do you know, mates, those shaven-headed lads are fine!” continued Avdeev. “Yes, really. What a talk I had with them!”

      “Of course you’d talk,” remarked Nikitin disapprovingly.

      “Really they’re just like Russians. One of them is married. Molly,’ says I, bar?’ Bar,’ he says. Bondarenko, didn’t I say bar’? Many bar?’ A couple,’ says he. A couple! Such a good talk we had! Such nice fellows!”

      “Nice, indeed!” said Nikitin. “If you met him alone he’d soon let the guts out of you.”

      “It will be getting light before long.” said panov.

      “Yes, the stars are beginning to go out,” said Avdeev, sitting down and making himself comfortable.

      And the soldiers were silent again.

      Chapter III

      The windows of the barracks and the soldiers’ houses had long been dark in the fort; but there were still lights in the windows of the best house.

      In it lived Prince Simon Mikhailovich Vorontsov, Commander of the Kurin Regiment, an Imperial Aide-de-Camp and son of the Commander-in-Chief. Vorontsov’s wife, Marya Vasilevna, a famous Petersburg beauty, was with him and they lived in this little Caucasian fort more luxuriously than any one had ever lived there before. To Vorontsov, and even more to his wife, it seemed that they were not only living a very modest life, but one full of privations, while to the inhabitants of the place their luxury was surprising and extraordinary.

      Just now, at midnight, the host and hostess sat playing cards with their visitors, at a card table lit by four candles, in the spacious drawing room with its carpeted floor and rich curtains drawn across the windows. Vorontsov, who had a long face and wore the insignia and gold cords of an aide-de-camp, was partnered by a shaggy young man of gloomy appearance, a graduate of Petersburg University whom Princess Vorontsov had lately had sent to the Caucasus to be tutor to her little son (born of her first marriage). Against them played two officers: one a broad, red-faced man, Poltoratsky, a company commander who had exchanged out of the Guards; and the other the regimental adjutant, who sat very straight on his chair with a cold expression on his handsome face.

      Princess Marya Vasilevna, a large-built, large-eyed, black-browed beauty, sat beside Poltoratsky – her crinoline touching his lets – and looked over his cards. In her words, her looks, her smile, her perfume, and in every movement of her body, there was something that reduced Poltoratsky to obliviousness of everything except the consciousness of her nearness, and he made blunder after blunder, trying his partner’s temper more and more.

      “No … that’s too bad! You’ve wasted an ace again,” said the regimental adjutant, flushing all over as Poltoratsky threw out an ace.

      Poltoratsky turned his kindly, wide-set black eyes towards the dissatisfied adjutant uncomprehendingly, as though just aroused from sleep.

      “Do forgive him!” said Marya Vasilevna, smiling. “There, you see! Didn’t I tell you so?” she went on, turning to Poltoratsky.

      “But that’s not at all what you said,” replied Poltoratsky, smiling.

      “Wasn’t it?” she queried, with an answering smile, which excited and delighted Poltoratsky to such a degree that he blushed crimson and seeing the cards began to shuffle.

      “It isn’t your turn to deal,” said the adjutant sternly, and with his white ringed hand he began to deal himself, as though he wished to get rid of the cards as quickly as possible.

      The prince’s valet entered the drawing room and announced that the officer on duty wanted to speak to him.

      “Excuse me, gentlemen,” said the prince speaking Russian with an English accent. “Will you take my place, marya?”

      “Do you all agree?” asked the princess, rising quickly and lightly to her full height, rustling her silks, and smiling the radiant smile of a happy woman.

      “I always agree to everything,” replied the adjutant, very pleased that the princess – who could not play at all – was now going to play against him.

      Poltoratsky only spread out his hands and smiled.

      The rubber was nearly finished when the prince returned to the drawing room, animated and obviously very pleased.

      “Do you know what I propose?”

      “What?”

      “That we have some champagne.”

      “I am always ready for that,” said Poltoratsky.

      “Why not? We shall be delighted!” said the adjutant.

      “Bring some, Vasili!” said the prince.

      “What did they want you for?” asked Marya Vasilevna.

      “It was the officer on duty and another man.”

      “Who? What about?” asked Marya Vasilevna quickly.

      “I mustn’t say,” said Vorontsov, shrugging his shoulders.

      “You mustn’t say!” repeated Marya Vasilevna. “We’ll see about that.”

      When the champagne was brought each of the visitors drank a glass, and having finished the game and settled the scores they began to take their leave.

      “Is it your company that’s ordered to the forest tomorrow?” the prince asked Poltoratsky as they said goodbye.

      “Yes, mine … why?”

      “Then we shall meet tomorrow,” said the prince, smiling slightly.

      “Very pleased,” replied Poltoratsky, not quite understanding what Vorontsov was saying to him and preoccupied only by the thought that he would in a minute be pressing Marya Vasilevna’s hand.

      Marya Vasilevna, according to her wont, not only pressed his hand firmly but shook it vigorously, and again reminding him of his mistake in playing diamonds, she gave him what he took to be a delightful, affectionate, and meaning smile.

      Poltoratsky went home in an ecstatic condition only to be understood by people like himself who, having grown up and been educated in society, meet a woman belonging to their own circle after months of isolated military life, and moreover a woman like Princess Vorontsov.

      When he reached the little house in which he and his comrade lived he pushed the door, but it was locked. He knocked, with no result. He felt vexed, and began kicking the door and banging it with his sword. Then he heard a sound of footsteps and Vovilo – a domestic serf of his – undid the cabin hook which fastened

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