—and he will get spasms and rheumatism, and all such things! But I am settled here,—here is my house, my bed, and everything. You see—"
Saying which, he drained another wine-glass of brandy.
"Ah!" he added, looking fixedly into Kraft's eyes.
"This is what I respect! This is a genuine old Caucasus officer ! Let me have your hand!"
Kraft pushed us all aside, made his way toward Trosénko, and, grasping his hand, shook it with much feeling.
"Yes, we may say that we have experienced everything here," he continued. "In the year '45—you were there, captain?—do you remember the night of the 12th which we passed knee-deep in the mud and how the next day we went into the abatis? I was then attached to the commander-in-chief, and we took fifteen abatises in one day. Do you remember it, captain?"
Trosénko made a sign of confirmation with his head, and closed his eyes, and protruded his lower lip.
"So you see—" began Kraft, with much animation, and making inappropriate gestures while addressing the major.
But the major, who no doubt had heard the story more than once, suddenly looked with such dim, dull eyes at his interlocutor that Kraft turned away from him and addressed Bolkhóv and me, glancing now at one, now at the other. At Trosénko he did not once look during his recital.
"So you see, when we went out in the morning, the commander-in-chief said to me, 'Kraft, take the abatises!' You know, our military service demands obedience without reflection,—so, hand to the visor, 'Yes, your Excellency!' and off I went. When we reached the first abatis I turned around and said to the soldiers, 'Boys, courage! Look sharp! He who lags behind will be cut down by my own hand.' With a Russian soldier, you know, you must speak plainly. Suddenly—a shell. I looked, one
