“What? His Serene Highness? I expect he’ll be here soon. What do you want?”

The lieutenant colonel of hussars smiled beneath his mustache at the orderly’s tone, dismounted, gave his horse to a dispatch runner, and approached Bolkónski with a slight bow. Bolkónski made room for him on the bench and the lieutenant colonel sat down beside him.

“You’re also waiting for the commander in chief?” said he. “They say he weceives evewyone, thank God!⁠ ⁠… It’s awful with those sausage eaters! Ermólov had weason to ask to be pwomoted to be a German! Now p’waps Wussians will get a look in. As it was, devil only knows what was happening. We kept wetweating and wetweating. Did you take part in the campaign?” he asked.

“I had the pleasure,” replied Prince Andréy, “not only of taking part in the retreat but of losing in that retreat all I held dear⁠—not to mention the estate and home of my birth⁠—my father, who died of grief. I belong to the province of Smolénsk.”