“O Lord! shall I really be killed⁠—just I? Lord, have mercy on me!” he whispered, and made the sign of the cross.

“Well, Volódya, come!” said the elder brother when the trap had driven on to the bridge. “Did you see the bomb?”

On the bridge the brothers met carts loaded with wounded men, with gabions, and one with furniture driven by a woman. No one stopped them at the further side.