“I have not had time,” said Johann.
“Fool!”
After that the Count took up the French novel laid out for him, and read for some time in silence: and Johann went out into the passage to heat the samovar. The Count was obviously in a bad temper, probably caused by fatigue, a dirty face, tight clothing, and an empty stomach.
“Johann!” he cried again, “bring me the account for those ten roubles. What did you buy in the town?”
The Count looked over the account handed to him, and made some dissatisfied remarks about the dearness of the things purchased.
“Serve rum with my tea.”
“I did not buy any rum,” said Johann.
“That’s good! … How many times have I told you to have rum?”
“I had not enough money.”
“Then why did not Pólozof buy some? You should have got some from his man.”
“Cornet Pólozof? I don’t know. He bought the tea and the sugar.”
“Idiot! … Go! … You alone know how to make me lose my patience. … You know that on a march I always drink rum with my tea.”
“Here are two letters for you from headquarters,” said the valet.
The Count opened his letters and began reading them without rising. The Cornet, having quartered the squadron, came in with a merry face.