At this moment the voice of the battalion commander was heard on the
outside, saying, "Who is it with you, Nikoláï Feódorovitch?" Bolkhof
mentioned my name, and in a moment three officers came into the
wigwam,--Major Kirsánof, the adjutant of his battalion, and company
commander Trosenko.
Kirsánof was a short, thick-set fellow, with black mustaches, ruddy
cheeks, and little oily eyes. His little eyes were the most noticeable
features of his physiognomy. When he laughed, there remained of them
only two moist little stars; and these little stars, together with his
pursed-up lips and long neck, sometimes gave him a peculiar expression
of insipidity. Kirsánof considered himself better than any one else in
the regiment. The under officers did not dispute this; and the chiefs
esteemed him, although the general impression about him was, that he
was very dull-witted. He knew his duties, was accurate and zealous,
kept a carriage and a cook, and, naturally enough, managed to pass
himself off as arrogant.
"What are you gossiping about, captain?" he asked as he came in.
"Oh, about the delights of the service here."
But at this instant Kirsánof caught sight of me, a mere yunker; and
in order to make me gather a high impression of his knowledge, as
though he had not heard Bolkhof's answer, and glancing at the drum, he
asked,--
"What, were you tired, captain?"
"No. You see, we" ... began Bolkhof.
But once more, and it must have been the battalion commander's dignity
that caused him to interrupt the answer, he put a new question:--
"Well, we had a splendid action to-day, didn't we?"
The adjutant of the battalion was a young fellow who belonged to the
fourteenth army-rank, and had only lately been promoted from the yunker
service. He was a modest and gentle young fellow, with a sensitive and
good-natured face. I had met him before at Bolkhof's. The young man
would come to see him often, make him a bow, sit down in a corner,
and for hours at a time say nothing, and only make cigarettes and
smoke them; and then he would get up, make another bow, and go away.
He was the type of the poor son of the Russian noble family, who has
chosen the profession of arms as the only one open to him in his
circumstances, and who values above every thing else in the world his
official calling,--an ingenuous and lovable type, notwithstanding
his absurd, indefeasible peculiarities: his tobacco-pouch, his
dressing-gown, his guitar, and his mustache brush, with which we used
to picture him to ourselves. In the regiment they used to say of him
that he boasted of being just but stern with his servant, and quoted
him as saying, "I rarely punish; but when I am driven to it, then
let 'em beware:" and once, when his servant got drunk, and plundered
him, and began to rail at his master, they say he took him to the
guard-house, and commanded them to have every thing ready for the
chastisement; but when he saw the preparations, he was so confused,
that he could only stammer a few meaningless words: "Well, now you
see--I might," ... and, thoroughly upset, he set off home, and from
that time never dared to look into the eyes of his man. His comrades
gave him no peace, but were always nagging him about this; and I often
heard how the ingenuous lad tried to defend himself, and, blushing to
the roots of his hair, avowed that it was not true, but absolutely
false.
The third character, Captain Trosenko, was an old Caucasian[16] in
the full acceptation of the word: that is, he was a man for whom the
company under his command stood for his family; the fortress where the
staff was, his home; and the song-singers his only pleasure in life,--a
man for whom every thing that was not Kavkas was worthy of scorn, yes,
was almost unworthy of belief; every thing that was Kavkas was divided
into two halves, ours and not ours. He loved the first, the second he
hated with all the strength of his soul. And, above all, he was a man
of iron nerve, of serene bravery, of rare goodness and devotion to
his comrades and subordinates, and of desperate frankness, and even
insolence in his bearing, toward those who did not please him; that is,
adjutants and _bon jourists._ As he came into the wigwam, he almost
bumped his head on the roof, then suddenly sank down and sat on the
ground.
"Well, how is it?"[17] said he; and suddenly becoming cognizant of my
presence, and recognizing me, he got up, turning upon me a troubled,
serious gaze.
"Well, why were you talking about that?" asked the major, taking out
his watch and consulting it, though I verily believe there was not the
slightest necessity of his doing so.
"Well,[18] he asked me why I served here."
"Of course, Nikoláï Feódorovitch wants to win distinction here, and
then go home."
"Well, now, you tell us, Abram Ilyitch, why you serve in the Caucasus."
"I? Because, as you know, in the first place we are all in duty bound
to serve. What?" he added, though no one spoke. "Yesterday evening I
received a letter from Russia, Nikoláï Feódorovitch," he continued,
eager to change the conversation. "They write me that ... what strange
questions are asked!"
"What sort of questions?" asked Bolkhof.
He blushed.
"Really, now, strange questions ... they write me, asking, 'Can there
be jealousy without love?' ... What?" he asked, looking at us all.
"How so?" said Bolkhof, smiling.
"Well, you know, in Russia it's a good thing," he continued, as
though his phrases followed each other in perfectly logical sequence.
"When I was at Tambof in '52 I was invited everywhere, as though I
were on the emperor's suite. Would you believe me, at a ball at the
governor's, when I got there ... well, don't you know, I was received
very cordially. The governor's wife[19] herself, you know, talked with
me, and asked me about the Caucasus; and so did all the rest ... why,
I don't know ... they looked at my gold cap as though it were some
sort of curiosity, and they asked me how I had won it, and how about
the Anna and the Vladímir; and I told them all about it.... What?
That's why the Caucasus is good, Nikoláï Feódorovitch," he continued,
not waiting for a response. "There they look on us Caucasians very
kindly. A young man, you know, a staff-officer with the Anna and
Vladímir,--that means a great deal in Russia. What?"
"You boasted a little, I imagine, Abram Ilyitch," said Bolkhof.
"He-he," came his silly little laugh in reply. "You know, you have to.
Yes, and didn't I feed royally those two months!"
"So it is fine in Russia, is it?" asked Trosenko, asking about Russia
as though it were China or Japan.
"Yes, indeed![20] We drank so much champagne there in those two months,
that it was a terror!"
"The idea! you?[21] You drank lemonade probably. I should have died to
show them how the _Kavkázets_ drinks. The glory has not been won for
nothing. I would show them how we drink.... Hey, Bolkhof?" he added.
"Yes, you see, you have been already ten years in the Caucasus, uncle,"
said Bolkhof, "and you remember what Yermolof said; but Abram Ilyitch
has been here only six." ...
"Ten years, indeed! almost sixteen."
"Let us have some _salvia,_ Bolkhof: it's raw, b-rr! What?" he added,
smiling, "shall we drink, major?"
But the major was out of sorts, on account of the old captain's
behavior to him at first; and now he evidently retired into himself,
and took refuge in his own greatness. He began to hum some song, and
again looked at his watch.
"Well, I shall never go there again," continued Trosenko, paying no
heed to the peevish major. "I have got out of the habit of going about
and speaking Russian. They'd ask, 'What is this wonderful creature?'
and the answer'd be, 'Asia.' Isn't that so, Nikoláï Feódoruitch? And so
what is there for me in Russia? It's all the same, you'll get shot here
sooner or later. They ask, 'Where is Trosenko?' And down you go! What
will you do then in the eighth company--heh?" he added, continuing to
address the major.
"Send the officer of the day to the battalion," shouted Kirsánof, not
answering the captain, though I was again compelled to believe that
there was no necessity upon him of giving any orders.
"But, young man, I think that you are glad now that you are having
double pay?" said the major after a few moments' silence, addressing
the adjutant of the battalion.
"Why, yes, very."
"I think that our salary is now very large, Nikoláï Feódoruitch," he
went on to say. "A young man can live very comfortably, and even allow
himself some little luxury."
"No, truly, Abram Ilyitch," said the adjutant timidly: "even though we
get double pay, it's only so much; and you see, one must keep a horse."
...
"What is that you say, young man? I myself have been an ensign, and
I know. Believe me, with care, one can live very well. But you must
calculate," he added, tapping his left palm with his little finger.
"We pledge all our salary before it's due: this is the way you
economize," said Trosenko, drinking down a glass of vodka.
"Well, now, you see that's the very thing.... What?"
At this instant at the door of the wigwam appeared a white head with a
flattened nose; and a sharp voice with a German accent said,--
"You there, Abram Ilyitch? The officer of the day is hunting for you."
"Come in, Kraft," said Bolkhof.
A tall form in the coat of the general's staff entered the door, and
with remarkable zeal endeavored to shake hands with every one.
"Ah, my dear captain, you here too?" said he, addressing Trosenko.
The new guest, notwithstanding the darkness, rushed up to the
captain and kissed him on the lips, to his extreme astonishment, and
displeasure as it seemed to me.
"This is a German who wishes to be a hail fellow well met," I said to
myself.
[Footnote 16: _Kavkázets._]
[Footnote 17: _nu chto?_]
[Footnote 18: _da voi._]
[Footnote 19: _gubernátorsha._]
[Footnote 20: _da s._]
[Footnote 21: _da chto vui._]