"Well, boys, are you going to have something to eat, or are you going to bed?" asked the village elder. "Have something to eat," replied Ilya, throwing back his sheepskin, and sprawling out on the bench. "Send for some vodka." "You've had enough vodka!" rejoined the elder shortly, and turned to the others.... "Better lunch on some bread, boys, and not keep the people sitting up." "Give us some vodka," repeated Ilya, not looking at any one, and in a tone of voice that made it evident that he was not going to be put off. The muzhíks listened to the elder's advice, brought from the cart a great loaf of bread, ate it up, asked for kvas,[12] and lay down to sleep; some on the floor, some on the stove. Ilya kept saying occasionally, "Give me vodka, I say, give me vodka." Suddenly he caught sight of Polikéï. "Ilyitch--there's Ilyitch! you here, dear old fellow! Here I am going as a soldier; said good-by to mamma, and my wife,--how bad she felt! They made me a soldier.--Set up some vodka!" "No money," said Polikéï. "However, it's as God gives: maybe they'll find you disqualified," he added in a comforting tone. "No, brother, I have always been as sound as a birch: how could they find me disqualified? How many soldiers more does the Tsar need?" Polikéï began to relate a story of how a muzhík gave a bribe to a _dokhter,_ and so escaped. Ilya came up to the stove, and continued the conversation. "No, Ilyitch, now it's done, and I myself don't want to get off. My uncle didn't buy me off. Wouldn't they have bought themselves off? No, he didn't want to spare his son, and he didn't want to spare his money; and they sent me instead.... And now I don't want to get off. [He spoke quietly, confidentially, under the influence of deep dejection.] However, I'm sorry for mamma. And how the sweetheart took on! Yes, and my wife--that's the way they kill the women. Now it's all over; I am a soldier. Better not to have got married. Why did they make me marry? To-morrow we go." "Why did they take you away with short notice?" asked Polikéï "Nothing had been said about it, and then suddenly" ... "You see, they were afraid I should do something to myself," replied Ilyushka smiling. "I wouldn't have done any thing, of course. I sha'n't be ruined by going as a soldier; but I'm sorry for the old woman. Why did they make me marry?" he repeated in a soft and melancholy tone. The door opened, squeaking loudly, and the old man Dutlof, shaking the wet from his hat, came into the room in his huge sabots, which fitted his feet almost like canoes. "Afanási," said he, crossing himself and addressing the porter,[13] "isn't there some one to hold a lantern while I give the horses their oats?" Dutlof did not look at his nephew, but quietly busied himself with making a candle-end burn. His glove and whip were thrust into his belt, and his cloak was closely buttoned; he had just come with the baggage. His ordinarily calm, peaceful, and thoughtful face was full of care.