Lieutenant Kozeltzoff recognized his brother immediately, and stepped up to him. “Don't you know me?” he said with a smile. “A-a-a-!” exclaimed the younger brother; “this is astonishing!” And he began to kiss his brother. They kissed twice, but stopped at the third repetition as though the thought had occurred to both of them:— “Why is it necessary to do it exactly three times?” “Well, how delighted I am!” said the elder, looking at his brother. “Let us go out on the porch; we can have a talk.” “Come, come, I don't want any soup. You eat it, Federsohn!” he said to his comrade. “But you wanted something to eat.” “I don't want anything.” When they emerged on the porch, the younger kept asking his brother: “Well, how are you; tell me all about it.” And still he kept on saying how glad he was to see him, but he told nothing himself. When five minutes had elapsed, during which time they had succeeded in becoming somewhat silent, the elder brother inquired why the younger had not gone into the guards, as they had all expected him to do. He wanted to get to Sevastopol as speedily as possible, he said; for if things turned out favorably there, he could get advancement more rapidly there than in the guards. There it takes ten years to reach the grade of colonel, while here Todleben had risen in two years from lieutenant-colonel to general. Well, and if one did get killed, there was nothing to be done. “What a fellow you are!” said his brother, smiling. “But the principal thing, do you know, brother,” said the younger, smiling and blushing as though he were preparing to say something very disgraceful, “all this is nonsense, and the principal reason why I asked it was that I was ashamed to live in Petersburg when men are dying for their country here. Yes, and I wanted to be with you,” he added, with still greater shamefacedness. “How absurd you are!” said the elder brother, pulling out his cigarette-machine, and not even glancing at him. “It's a pity, though, that we can't be together.” “Now, honestly, is it so terrible in the bastions?” inquired the younger man, abruptly. “It is terrible at first, but you get used to it afterwards. It's nothing. You will see for yourself.” “And tell me still another thing. What do you think?—will Sevastopol be taken? I think that it will not.” “God knows!” “But one thing is annoying. Just imagine what bad luck! A whole bundle was stolen from us on the road, and it had my shako in it, so that now I am in a dreadful predicament; and I don't know how I am to show myself.”