“And I will tell you something else,” said the second-captain, in a more serious tone. “You must learn that, being battery commander, there is every advantage in managing affairs well. You must know that the soldier’s food doesn’t concern him. It has always been that way with us in the artillery. If you don’t succeed in making both ends meet, you will have nothing left. Let us count up your expenses. You have first the forage”--and the captain bent one finger; “next the medicine”--he bent a second one; “then the administration--that makes three; then the draft-horses, which certainly cost five hundred rubles--that makes four; then the refitting of the soldiers’ collars; then the charcoal, which is used in great quantities, and at last the table of your officers; lastly, as chief of the battery you must live comfortably, and you need a carriage, a cloak, etc.” “And the principal thing is this, Vladimir Semenovitch,” said the captain, who had been silent up to this moment. “Look at a man like me, for example, who has served twenty years, receiving at first two, then three hundred rubles pay. Well, then, why shouldn’t the Government reward him for his years of service by giving him a morsel of bread for his old days.” “It can’t be discussed,” rejoined the second-captain; “so don’t be in a hurry to judge. Serve a little while and you will see.” Volodia, quite ashamed of the remark which he had thrown out without stopping to reflect, murmured a few words, and listened in silence how Dedenko set about defending the opposite thesis. The discussion was interrupted by the entrance of the colonel’s orderly announcing that dinner was ready. “You ought to tell Apollo Serguéïtch to give us wine to-day,” said Captain Tchernovitzky, buttoning his coat. “Devil take his avarice! He will be shot, and no one will get any.” “Tell him yourself.” “Oh no, you are my elder; the hierarchy before everything!” XIX. A table, covered with a stained tablecloth, was placed in the middle of the room in which Volodia had been received by the colonel the evening before. The latter gave him his hand, and asked him questions about Petersburg and about his journey. “Now, gentlemen, please come up to the brandy. The ensigns don’t drink,” he added, with a smile. The commander of the battery did not seem as stern to-day as the day before; he had rather the air of a kind and hospitable host than that of a comrade among his officers. In spite of that, all, from the old captain to Ensign Dedenko, evinced respect for him which betrayed itself in the timid politeness with which they spoke to him and came up in line to drink their little glass of brandy.