“Awfully bold!” said the drummer to another soldier, not loud, but so as to be heard, and as if to justify the Commander’s words, and to prove that there was nothing boastful or unlikely in what he had said.

From the soldiers Kozeltsóf went to join his fellow-officers in the Defensive Barracks.

A crowd of people were in the large barrack-room⁠—naval, artillery, and infantry officers. Some slept, others talked, sitting on a chest of some kind and on the carriage of a garrison gun, but the largest and noisiest group sat on two Cossack cloaks spread on the floor beyond the arch, and were drinking porter and playing cards.

“Ah, Kozeltsóf! Kozeltsóf!⁠ ⁠… So you’ve come! That’s good.⁠ ⁠… You’re a brick.⁠ ⁠… How’s your wound?” It was evident that here also he was liked, and his return gave pleasure.