Sevastopol Page 14

appeared that Kozeltzoff, what with preference and sugar, was indebt to the amount of eight rubles only. The elder brother gave himthis sum, merely remarking that one should not play preference when onehad no money.

  "What did you play for?"

  The younger brother answered not a word. His brother's question seemedto him to cast a reflection on his honor. Vexation at himself, a shameat his conduct, which could give rise to such a suspicion, and theinsult from his brother, of whom he was so fond, produced upon hissensitive nature so deeply painful an impression that he made no reply.Sensible that he was not in a condition to restrain the sobs which rosein his throat, he took the money without glancing at it, and went backto his comrades.

  VII.

  Nikolaeff, who had fortified himself at Duvanka, with two jugs ofvodka, purchased from a soldier who was peddling it on the bridge, gavethe reins a jerk, and the team jolted away over the stony road, shadedhere and there, which led along the Belbek to Sevastopol; but thebrothers, whose legs jostled each other, maintained a stubborn silence,although they were thinking of each other every instant.

  "Why did he insult me?" thought the younger. "Could he not have heldhis tongue about that? It is exactly as though he thought that I was athief; yes, and now he is angry, apparently, so that we have quarrelledfor good. And how splendid it would have been for us to be together inSevastopol. Two brothers, on friendly terms, both fighting the foe!one of them, the elder, though not very cultivated, yet a valiantwarrior, and the other younger, but a brave fellow too. In a week'stime I would have showed them that I am not such a youngster after all!I shall cease to blush, there will be manliness in my countenance,and, though my moustache is not very large now, it would grow to agood size by that time;" and he felt of the down which was making itsappearance round the edges of his mouth. "Perhaps we shall arriveto-day, and get directly into the conflict, my brother and I. He mustbe obstinate and very brave, one of those who do not say much, but actbetter than others. I should like to know," he continued, "whether heis squeezing me against the side of the wagon on purpose or not. Heprobably is conscious that I feel awkward, and he is pretending notto notice me. We shall arrive to-day," he went on with his argument,pressing close to the side of the wagon, and fearing to move lest hisbrother should observe that he was uncomfortable, "and, all at once,we shall go straight to the bastion. We shall both go together, I withmy equipments, and my brother with his company. All of a sudden, theFrench throw themselves on us. I begin to fire, and fire on them. Ikill a terrible number; but they still continue to run straight at me.Now, it is impossible to fire any longer, and there is no hope for me;all at once my brother rushes out in front with his sword, and I graspmy gun, and we rush on with the soldiers. The French throw themselveson my brother. I hasten up; I kill one Frenchman, then another, andI save my brother. I am wounded in one arm; I seize my gun with theother, and continue my flight; but my brother is slain by my side bythe bullets. I halt for a moment, and gaze at him so sorrowfully; thenI straighten myself up and shout: 'Follow me! We will avenge him! Iloved my brother more than any one in the world,' I shall say, 'and Ihave lost him. Let us avenge him! Let us annihilate the foe, or let usall die together there!' All shout, and fling themselves after me. Thenthe whole French army makes a sortie, including even Pelissier himself.We all fight; but, at last, I am wounded a second, a third time, and Ifall, nearly dead. Then, all rush up to me. Gortchakoff comes up andasks what I would like. I say that I want nothing--except that I maybe laid beside my brother; that I wish to die with him. They carryme, and lay me down by the side of my brother's bloody corpse. Then Ishall raise myself, and merely say: 'Yes, you did not understand howto value two men who really loved their father-land; now they have bothfallen,--and may God forgive you!' and I shall die.

  Who knows in what measure these dreams will be realized?

  "Have you ever been in a hand to hand fight?" he suddenly inquired ofhis brother, quite forgetting that he had not meant to speak to him.

  "No, not once," answered the elder. "Our regiment has lost two thousandmen, all on the works; and I, also, was wounded there. War is notcarried on in the least as you fancy, Volodya."

  The word "Volodya" touched the younger brother. He wanted to come to anexplanation with his brother, who had not the least idea that he hadoffended Volodya.

  "You are not angry with me, Misha?" he said, after a momentary silence.

  "What about?"

  "No, because--because we had such a--nothing."

  "Not in the least," replied the elder, turning to him, and slapping himon the leg.

  "Then forgive me, Misha, if I have wounded you."

  And the younger brother turned aside, in order to hide the tears thatsuddenly started to his eyes.

  VIII.

  "Is this Sevastopol already?" asked the younger brother, as theyascended the hill.

  And before them appeared the bay, with its masts of ships, itsshipping, and the sea, with the hostile fleet, in the distance; thewhite batteries on the shore, the barracks, the aqueducts, the docksand the buildings of the town, and the white and lilac clouds of smokerising incessantly over the yellow hills, which surrounded the town andstood out against the blue sky, in the rosy rays of the sun, which wasreflected by the waves, and sinking towards the horizon of the shadowysea.

  Volodya, without a shudder, gazed upon this terrible place of whichhe had thought so much; on the contrary, he did so with an aestheticenjoyment, and a heroic sense of self-satisfaction at the idea thathere he was--he would be there in another half-hour, that he wouldbehold that really charmingly original spectacle--and he stared withconcentrated attention from that moment until they arrived at the northfortification, at the baggage-train of his brother's regiment, wherethey were to ascertain with certainty the situations of the regimentand the battery.

  The officer in charge of the train lived near the so-called new town(huts built of boards by the sailors' families), in a tent, connectingwith a tolerably large shed, constructed out of green oak-boughs, thatwere not yet entirely withered.

  The brothers found the officer seated before a greasy table, upon whichstood a glass of cold tea, a tray with vodka, crumbs of dry sturgeonroe, and bread, clad only in a shirt of a dirty yellow hue, and engagedin counting a huge pile of bank-bills on a large abacus.

  But before describing the personality of the officer, and hisconversation, it is indispensable that we should inspect with moreattention the interior of his shed, and become a little acquainted, atleast, with his mode of life and his occupations. The new shed, likethose built for generals and regimental commanders, was large, closelywattled, and comfortably arranged, with little tables and benches, madeof turf. The sides and roof were hung with three rugs, to keep theleaves from showering down, and, though extremely ugly, they were new,and certainly costly.

  Upon the iron bed, which stood beneath the principal rug, with a youngamazon depicted on it, lay a plush coverlet, of a brilliant crimson,a torn and dirty pillow, and a raccoon cloak. On the table stood amirror, in a silver frame, a silver brush, frightfully dirty, a brokenhorn comb, full of greasy hair, a silver candlestick, a bottle ofliqueur, with a huge gold and red label, a gold watch, with a portraitof Peter I., two gold pens, a small box, containing pills of some sort,a crust of bread, and some old, castaway cards, and there were bottles,both full and empty, under the bed.

  This officer had charge of the commissariat of the regiment and thefodder of the horses. With him lived his great friend, the commissionerwho had charge of the operations.

  At the moment when the brothers entered, the latter was asleep inthe booth, and the commissary officer was making up his accounts ofthe government money, in anticipation of the end of the month. Thecommissary officer had a very comely and warlike exterior. His staturewas tall, his moustache huge, and he possessed a respectable amountof plumpness. The only disagreeable points about him were a certainperspiration and puffiness of the whole face, which almost concealedhis small gray eyes (as though he was filled up w
ith porter), and anexcessive lack of cleanliness, from his thin, greasy hair to his big,bare feet, thrust into some sort of ermine slippers.

  "Money, money!" said Kozeltzoff number one, entering the shed, andfixing his eyes, with involuntary greed, upon the pile of bank-notes."You might lend me half of that, Vasily Mikhailitch!"

  The commissary officer cringed at the sight of his visitors, and,sweeping up his money, he bowed to them without rising.

  "Oh, if it only belonged to me! It's government money, my dear fellow.And who is this you have with you?" said he, thrusting the money into acoffer which stood beside him, and staring at Volodya.

  "This is my brother, who has just come from the military academy. Wehave both come to learn from you where our regiment is stationed."

  "Sit down, gentlemen," said the