The elder Koseltzoff, having met a soldier of his regiment in the
street, was accompanied by him to the fifth bastion.
“Keep close to the wall, Excellency,” the soldier said.
“What for?”
“It is dangerous, Excellency. _He_ is already passing over us,” replied
the soldier, listening to the whistling of the ball, which struck with a
dry sound the other side of the hard road. But Koseltzoff continued on
in the middle of the road without heeding this advice. There were the
same streets, the same but more frequent flashes, the same sounds and
the same groans, the same meeting of wounded men, the same batteries,
parapet, and trenches, just as he had seen them in the spring. But now
their aspect was more dismal, more sombre and more martial, so to speak.
A greater number of houses was riddled, and there were no more lights in
the windows--the hospital was the only exception--no more women in the
street; and the character of the accustomed, careless life formerly
imprinted on everything was effaced, and was replaced by the element of
anxious, weary expectation, and of redoubled and incessant effort.
He came at last to the farthermost intrenchment, and a soldier of the
P---- regiment recognized his former company chief. There was the third
battalion, as could be guessed in the darkness by the constrained murmur
of voices and the clicks of the muskets placed against the wall, which
the flash of the discharges lit up at frequent intervals.
“Where is the commander of the regiment?” asked Koseltzoff.
“In the bomb-proof with the marines, your Excellency,” replied the
obliging soldier. “If you would like to go I will show you the way.”
Passing from one trench to another, he led Koseltzoff to the ditch,
where a sailor was smoking his pipe. Behind him was a door, through the
cracks of which shone a light.
“Can we go in?”
“I will announce you;” and the sailor entered the bomb-proof, where two
voices could be heard.
“If Prussia continues to keep neutral, then Austria--” said one of them.
“What is Austria good for when the slavs--” said the other.--“Ah yes!
ask him to come in,” added this same voice.
Koseltzoff, who had never before put his foot in these bomb-proof
quarters, was struck by their elegance. A polished floor took the place
of boards, a screen hid the entrance door. In a corner was a great icon
representing the holy Virgin, with its gilt frame lighted by a small
pink glass lamp. Two beds were placed along the wall, on one of which a
naval officer was sleeping in his clothes, on the other, near a table on
which two open bottles of wine were standing, sat the new regimental
chief and an aide-de-camp. Koseltzoff, who was not bashful, and who felt
himself in nowise guilty, either towards the State or towards the chief
of the regiment, felt, nevertheless, at the sight of the latter--his
comrade until very recently--a certain apprehension.
“It is strange,” he thought, seeing him rise to listen to him. “He has
commanded the regiment scarcely six weeks, and power is already visible
in his bearing, in his look, in his clothes. Not a long while ago this
same Batretcheff amused himself in our quarters, wore for whole weeks
the same dark calico shirt, and ate his hash and his sour cream without
inviting any one to share it, and now an expression full of hard pride
can be read in his eyes, which say to me, ‘Although I am your comrade,
for I am a regimental chief of the new school, you may be sure I know
perfectly well that you would give half your life to be in my place.’”
“You have been treating yourself to a rather long absence,” said the
colonel, coldly, looking at him.
“I have been ill, colonel, and my wound is not yet altogether healed.”
“If that’s so, what did you come back for?” Koseltzoff’s corpulence
inspired his chief with defiance. “Can you do your duty?”
“Certainly I can.”
“All right. Ensign Zaïtzeff will conduct you to the ninth company, the
one you have already commanded. You will receive the order of the day.
Be so good as to send me the regimental aide-de-camp as you go out,” and
his chief, bowing slightly, gave him to understand by this that the
interview was ended.
On his way out Koseltzoff muttered indistinct words and shrugged his
shoulders several times. It might readily be believed that he felt ill
at ease, or that he was irritated, not exactly against his regimental
chief, but rather against himself and against all his surroundings.