Short stories, Russian -- Translations into English
"Will you have your lunch now?" asked Nikita at this juncture,
approaching me unseen in the darkness, and, as I could perceive, vexed
at the presence of a guest. "Nothing but curd dumplings, there's none
of the roast beef left."
"Has the captain had his lunch yet?"
"He went to bed long ago," replied Nikita, gruffly, "According to my
directions, I was to bring you lunch here and your brandy." He
muttered something else discontentedly, and sauntered off to his tent.
After loitering a while longer, he brought us, nevertheless, a
lunch-case; he placed a candle on the lunch-case, and shielded it from
the wind with a sheet of paper. He brought a saucepan, some mustard in
a jar, a tin dipper with a handle, and a bottle of absinthe. After
arranging these things, Nikita lingered around us for some moments, and
looked on as Guskof and I were drinking the liquor, and it was
evidently very distasteful to him. By the feeble light shed by the
candle through the paper, amid the encircling darkness, could be seen
the seal-skin cover of the lunch-case, the supper arranged upon it,
Guskof's sheepskin jacket, his face, and his small red hands which he
used in lifting the patties from the pan. Everything around us was
black; and only by straining the sight could be seen the dark battery,
the dark form of the sentry moving along the breastwork, on all sides
the watch-fires, and on high the ruddy stars.
Guskof wore a melancholy, almost guilty smile as though it were awkward
for him to look into my face after his confession. He drank still
another glass of liquor, and ate ravenously, emptying the saucepan.
"Yes; for you it must be a relief all the same," said I, for the sake
of saying something,--"your acquaintance with the adjutant. He is a
very good man, I have heard."
"Yes," replied the cashiered officer, "he is a kind man; but he can't
help being what he is, with his education, and it is useless to expect
it."
A flush seemed suddenly to cross his face. "You remarked his coarse
jest this evening about the ambuscade;" and Guskof, though I tried
several times to interrupt him, began to justify himself before me, and
to show that he had not run away from the ambuscade, and that he was
not a coward as the adjutant and Capt. S. tried to make him out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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