"Well, here is something strange, fellows," continued Velenchúk after a moment's silence, scratching the back of his head, and not addressing any one in particular; "fact, it's strange, fellows. I have been sixteen years in the service, and have not had such a thing happen to me. As we were told to get ready for a march, I got up, as my duty behooved. There was nothing at all, when suddenly in the park _it_ came over me--came over me more and more; laid me out--laid me out on the ground--and everything.... And when I got asleep, I did not hear a sound, fellows. It must have been that I fainted away," he said in conclusion. "At all events, it took all my strength to wake you up," said Antónof, as he pulled on his boot. "I pushed you, and pushed you. You slept like a log." "See here," remarked Velenchúk, "if I had been drunk" ... "Like a peasant-woman we had at home," interrupted Chikin. "For almost two years running she did not get down from the big oven. They tried to wake her up one time, for they thought she was asleep; but there she was, lying just as though she was dead: the same kind of sleep you had--isn't that so, clear man?" "Just tell us, Chikin, how you led the fashion the time when you had leave of absence," said Maksímof, smiling, and winking at me as much as to say, "Don't you like to hear what the foolish fellow has to say?" "How led the fashion, Feódor Maksímuitch?" asked Chikin, casting a quick side glance at me. "Of course, I merely told what kind of people we are here in the Kapkas."[10] "Well, then, that's so, that's so. You are not a fashion leader ... but just tell us how you made them think you were commander." "You know how I became commander for them. I was asked how we live," began Chikin, speaking rapidly, like a man who has often told the same story. "I said, 'We live well, dear man: we have plenty of victuals. At morning and night, to our delight all we soldiers get our chocol_et_;[11] and then at dinner every sinner has his imperial soup of barley groats, and instead of vodka, M_o_deira at each plate, genuine old M_o_deira in the cask, forty-second degree!'". "Fine M_o_deira!" replied Velenchúk louder than the others, and with a burst of laughter. "Let's have some of it." "Well, then, what did you have to tell them about the _Esiatics?_" said Maksímof, carrying his inquiries still further, as the general merriment subsided. Chikin bent down to the fire, picked up a coal with his stick, put it on his pipe, and, as though not noticing the discreet curiosity aroused in his hearers, puffed for a long time in silence.