"Yes; it is even too much."
"Well, let us suppose it. Then, for the horse with the saddle for the remount, thirty roubles,—that is all. That makes in all twenty-five, and one hundred and twenty, and thirty, equal to one hundred and seventy-five roubles. There is still left enough for luxuries, for tea and sugar, and for tobacco,—say twenty roubles. Don't you see? Am I right, Nikoláy Fédorovich?"
"No, excuse me, Abrám Ilích!" timidly remarked the adjutant. "Nothing will be left for tea and sugar. You figure one pair for two years, whereas in these expeditions you can't get enough pantaloons. And the boots? I wear out a pair almost every month. Then the underwear, the shirts, the towels, the sock-rags, all these have to be bought. Count it up and nothing will be left. Upon my word, it is so, Abrám Ilích."
"Yes, it is fine to wear sock-rags," Kraft suddenly remarked after a moment's silence, with special delight pronouncing the word "sock-rags." "You know it is so simple, so Russian!"
"I will tell you something," said Trosénko, "Count as you may, it will turn out that we fellows ought to be shelved, whereas in reality we manage to live, and to drink tea, and to smoke tobacco, and to drink brandy. After you have served as long as I have," he continued, addressing the ensign, "you will learn how to get along. Do you know, gentlemen, how he treats his orderly?"
And Trosénko, almost dying with laughter, told us the whole story of the ensign with his orderly, although we had heard it a thousand times before.
"My friend, what makes you look like a rose?" he continued, addressing the ensign, who was blushing, perspiring, and smiling so that it was a pity to look at him.
"Never mind, I was just like you, and yet I have turned out to be a fine fellow. You let a young fellow from Russia get down here,—we have seen some of them,
