About midnight the tradesman’s men and Polikéy were wakened by a knocking at the gate and the shouting of peasants. It was the party of recruits from Pokróvsk. There were about ten of them: Harúshkin, Mitúshkin, and Elijah (Doútlof’s nephew), two reserve recruits, the village Elder, old Doútlof, and the men who had driven them. A night-light was burning in the room, and the cook was sleeping on a bench under the icons. She jumped up and began lighting a candle. Polikéy awoke also, and, leaning over from the top of the oven, looked at the peasants as they came in. They came in crossing themselves, and sat down on the benches round the room. They all seemed perfectly calm, so that one could not tell which of them were being enlisted and who had them in charge. They were saying “How d’you do?” talking loudly, and asking for food. It is true that some were silent and sad; but, on the other hand, others were unusually merry, evidently drunk. Among these was Elijah, who had never had too much to drink before.
“Well, lads, shall we go to sleep, or have some supper?” asked the Elder.
“Supper!” said Elijah, throwing open his coat, and settling himself on a bench. “Send for vodka.”
“Enough of your vodka!” answered the Elder shortly, and turning to the others he said:
“You just cut yourselves a bit of bread, lads! Why wake people up?”
“Give me vodka!” Elijah repeated, without looking at anybody. “I tell you, give me some!” Then, noticing Polikéy: “Polikéy! Hi, Polikéy! You here, dear friend? Why, I am going for a soldier. … Have taken final leave of mother, of my missus. … How she howled! They’ve bundled me off for a soldier. … Stand me some vodka!”