“Why, if we had not even that,” said the old, always dissatisfied Lieutenant-Colonel, “the continual uncertainty we are living in⁠—seeing people killed day after day, and no end to it, would be intolerable. And to have dirt and discomfort added to it⁠—”

“But our infantry officers,” said Kaloúgin, “they live at the bastions with their men in the bombproofs, and eat soldiers’ soup⁠—what of them?”

“What of them? Well, though it’s true they wear the same shirt for ten days at a time, they are heroes all the same⁠—wonderful men.”

Just then an infantry officer entered the room.

“I⁠ ⁠… I have orders⁠ ⁠… may I see the Gen⁠ ⁠… his Excellency? I have come with a message from General N⁠⸺,” he said, bowing shyly.