he said. “He has children. They were five in family and I had only just married. Mother began begging me to go. So I thought, Well, maybe they will remember what I’ve done.’ So I went to our proprietor … he was a good master and he said, You’re a fine fellow, go!’ So I went instead of my brother.”
“Well, that was right,” said Panov.
“And yet, will you believe me, Panov, it’s chiefly because of that that I feel so dull now? Why did you go instead of your brother?’ I say to myself. He’s living like a king now over there, while you have to suffer here;’ and the more I think of it the worse I feel… . It seems just a piece of ill-luck!”
Avdeev was silent.
“Perhaps we’d better have another smoke,” said he after a pause.
“Well then, fix it up!”
But the soldiers were not to have their smoke. Hardly had Avdeev risen to fix the pipe stem in its place when above the rustling of the trees they heard footsteps along the road. Panov took his gun and pushed Nikitin with his foot.
Nikitin rose and picked up his cloak.
The third soldier, Bondarenko, rose also, and said:
“And I have dreamt such a dream, mates… . “
“Sh!” said Avdeev, and the soldiers held their breath, listening. The footsteps of men in soft-soled boots were heard approaching. The fallen leaves and dry twigs could be heard rustling clearer and clearer through the darkness. Then came the peculiar guttural tones of Chechen voices. The soldiers could now not only hear men approaching, but could see two shadows passing through a clear space between the trees; one shadow taller than the other. When these shadows had come in line with the soldiers, Panov, gun in hand, stepped out on to the road, followed by his comrades.
“Who goes there?” cried he.
“Me, friendly Chechen,” said the shorter one. This was Bata. “Gun, yok! … sword, yok!” said he, pointing to himself. “Prince, want!”
The taller one stood silent beside his comrade. He too was unarmed.
“He 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
