As I came around one of the tents of the third battalion, I heard
Guskof's rough voice: he was speaking hilariously and rapidly. Young
voices replied to him, not those of soldiers, but of gay gentlemen. It
was evidently the tent of some yunker or sergeant-major. I stopped
short.
"I've known him a long time," Guskof was saying. "When I lived in
Petersburg, he used to come to my house often; and I went to his. He
moved in the best society."
"Whom are you talking about?" asked the drunken voice.
"About the prince," said Guskof. "We were relatives, you see, but, more
than all, we were old friends. It's a mighty good thing, you know,
gentlemen, to have such an acquaintance. You see he's fearfully rich. To
him a hundred silver rubles is a mere bagatelle. Here, I just got a
little money out of him, enough to last me till my sister sends."
"Let's have some."
"Right away.--Savelitch, my dear," said Guskof, coming to the door of
the tent, "here's ten rubles for you: go to the sutler, get two bottles
of Kakhetinski. Anything else, gentlemen? What do you say?" and Guskof,
with unsteady gait, with dishevelled hair, without his hat, came out of
the tent. Throwing open his jacket, and thrusting his hands into the
pockets of his trousers, he stood at the door of the tent.
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