Short Fiction by Leo Tolstoy (book reader for pc TXT) 📕

hope you will favour us with your company and your friendship,” he said, turning to Volódya, who rose and bowed to him. “Lieutenant-Captain Kraut.⁠ ⁠… At the bastion yesterday, the master-gunner told me you had arrived.”

“I am very grateful to you for your bed: I slept on it.”

“But were you comfortable? One of the legs is broken: no one has time to mend it in this state of siege; it has to be propped up.”

“Well, what luck have you had on duty?” asked Dyádenko.

“Oh, all right: only Skvortsóf was hit, and yesterday we had to mend a gun-carriage⁠—the cheek was blown to shivers.”

He rose and began to walk up and down. It was evident that he was under the influence of the pleasant feeling experienced by men who have just left a post of danger.

“Well, Dmítry Gavrílitch,” he said, shaking the Captain by his knee, “how are you getting on? What of your recommendation⁠—is it still silent?”

“There’s no news as yet.”

“And there won’t be any,” began Dyádenko: “I told you so before.”

“Why won’t there be?”

“Because the report was not written properly.”

“Ah, you wrangler! you wrangler!” said Kraut, smiling merrily. “A real obstinate Little-Russian! There now, just to spite you, you’ll be made Lieutenant.”

“No, I shan’t!”

“Vlang! get me my pipe and fill it,” said Kraut, turning to the Junker, who rose at once and readily ran for the pipe.

Kraut brightened them all up: he talked of the bombardment, asked what had been going on in his absence, and spoke to everyone.

XVIII

“Well, have you established yourself satisfactorily among us?” said Kraut to Volódya. “Pardon me! what is your name and patronymic? You know that’s our custom in the artillery.⁠ ⁠… Have you a horse?”

“No,” said Volódya; “I don’t know what I am to do. I was telling the Captain⁠ ⁠… I have no horse, nor any money until I get my forage-money and travelling expenses paid. I thought, meanwhile, of asking the Commander of the battery to let me have a horse, but I’m afraid he will refuse.”

“Apollón Sergéitch⁠ ⁠… ?” and Kraut made a sound with his lips expressing strong doubt, and looking at the Captain added, “hardly!”

“Well, if he does refuse there’ll be no harm done,” said the Captain. “To tell you the truth, a horse is not much wanted here; still, it is worth trying. I will ask him today.”

“How little you know him,” Dyádenko put in: “he might refuse anything else, but not that.⁠ ⁠… Will you bet?”

“Well, of course we know you can’t help contradicting.”

“I contradict because I know: he’s close in other matters, but he’ll give a horse because he gains nothing by refusing.”

“Gains nothing when oats are eight roubles?” said Kraut: “the gain is not having to keep an extra horse!”

“You ask for Skvoréts, Vladímir Semyónitch,” said Vlang, returning with Kraut’s pipe: “it’s a capital horse.”

“Off which you fell into a ditch in Soróki, eh, Vlánga?” remarked the Lieutenant-Captain.

“What does it matter if oats are eight roubles when, in his estimates, they figure at ten and a half?76 That’s where the gain comes in,” said Dyádenko, continuing to argue.

“Well, naturally, you can’t expect him to keep nothing. When you are commander of a battery, I dare say you’ll not let one have a horse to ride into town.”

“When I am the commander of a battery, my horses will get four measures each, and I shall not make an income, no fear!”

“We shall see, if we live⁠ ⁠…” said the Lieutenant-Captain: “you will act in just the same way⁠—and so will he,” pointing to Volódya.

“Why do you think that he too would wish to make a profit?” said Tchernovítsky to Kraut: “he may have private means, then why should he make a profit?”

“Oh no, I⁠ ⁠… excuse me, Captain,” said Volódya, blushing up to his ears, “but I should think such a thing dishonourable.”

“Dear me! what a severe fellow he is!” said Kraut.

“No, I only mean that I think that if the money is not mine, I ought not to take it.”

“But I’ll just tell you something, young man,” began the Lieutenant-Captain in a more serious tone; “do you know that if you are commanding a battery you have to conduct things properly, and that’s enough. The commander of a battery does not interfere with the soldiers’ supplies; that’s always been the custom in the artillery. If you are a bad manager, you will have no surplus. But you have to spend over and above what’s in the estimates: for shoeing⁠—that’s one” (he bent down one finger), “and for medicine⁠—that’s two” (and he bent down another finger), “for office expenses⁠—that’s three: then for off-horses one has to pay up to 500 roubles, my dear fellow⁠—that’s four: you have to supply the soldiers with new collars, spend a good bit on charcoal for the samovars, and keep open table for the officers. If you are in command of a battery you must live decently: you must have a carriage and a fur coat, and one thing and another.⁠ ⁠… It’s quite plain!”

“And above all,” interrupted the Captain, who had been silent all the time, “look here, Vladímir Semyónitch. Imagine a man, like myself say, serving for twenty years, with a pay of first 200, then 300 roubles a year. Can one refuse him a crust of bread in his old age, after all his service?”

“Ah, what’s the good of talking,” again began the Lieutenant-Captain: “don’t be in a hurry to judge, but live and serve.”

Volódya felt horribly confused and ashamed of what he had so thoughtlessly said; he muttered something, and then listened in silence while Dyádenko began, very irritably, disputing and proving the contrary of what had been said. The dispute was interrupted by the Colonel’s orderly, who came to say that dinner was served.

“Ask Apollón Sergéitch to give us some wine today,” said Tchernovítsky to the Captain, buttoning his uniform. “Why is he so stingy? If we get killed it will all be wasted.”

“Well, ask him yourself.”

“Oh no; you are the senior officer: we must observe order