“If we don’t take it tomowwow, he’ll snatch it fwom under our noses,” he added.

While Denísov was talking to the esaul , Pétya⁠—abashed by Denísov’s cold tone and supposing that it was due to the condition of his trousers⁠—furtively tried to pull them down under his greatcoat so that no one should notice it, while maintaining as martial an air as possible.

“Will there be any orders, your honor?” he asked Denísov, holding his hand at the salute and resuming the game of adjutant and general for which he had prepared himself, “or shall I remain with your honor?”

“Orders?” Denísov repeated thoughtfully. “But can you stay till tomowwow?”

“Oh, please⁠ ⁠… May I stay with you?” cried Pétya.

“But, just what did the genewal tell you? To weturn at once?” asked Denísov.