“Count, be so good as to allow me⁠ ⁠… for God’s sake, to get into some corner of one of your carts! I have nothing here with me.⁠ ⁠… I shall be all right on a loaded cart.⁠ ⁠…”

Before the officer had finished speaking the orderly made the same request on behalf of his master.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” said the count hastily. “I shall be very pleased, very pleased. Vasílich, you’ll see to it. Just unload one or two carts. Well, what of it⁠ ⁠… do what’s necessary⁠ ⁠…” said the count, muttering some indefinite order.

But at the same moment an expression of warm gratitude on the officer’s face had already sealed the order. The count looked around him. In the yard, at the gates, at the window of the wings, wounded officers and their orderlies were to be seen. They were all looking at the count and moving toward the porch.

“Please step into the gallery, your excellency,” said the majordomo. “What are your orders about the pictures?”