"Just keep a level head, brother! You will soon get used to it all. There is no harm going on here.... The feeding, and the management, and everything are first-class.... We have all to die some day, every one recognizes that But till that time comes, keep, as I have said, a level head!... Will you have a glass of schnapps?" "Why not?" replied Orloff. "I have got a drop in the corner there, ready for use on these sort of occasions. What do you say; shall we have a go at it?" They went off accordingly towards a quiet corner of the Infirmary, and pulled themselves together with a small glass of spirits. Then Pronim dropped some essence of peppermint on to a piece of sugar, and handed it to Orloff. "Take it; otherwise they will smell that we have been drinking. They are very particular here about vodka; they say it is bad for one." "And you?... have you got accustomed to the life here?" asked Grigori. "I should think so! I was one of the first to come. Hundreds have died before my eyes. One lives here indeed in a state of uncertainty, but otherwise, to tell the truth, it's not bad ... it is God's work,--just like the Red Cross in war. Have you heard of the Red Cross ambulance work, and of the nurses and sisters? I saw them in the Turkish war.... And I was also at Ardahan and at Kars. They were indeed a brave lot, those ambulance people I Full of kind-heartedness and courage. We soldiers had at least our guns and cannons; but they went about among the bullets as if they had been walking about in some pleasant garden. And when they found either one of us or a Turk--they brought them all to the place where the doctors were dressing the wounds, and stood near, whilst all around them the bullets were flying ... sch!... sch!... Tju!... Fit!... Often some poor chap would be hit by a ball just at the back of the neck,--ping!... and there he would lie...." This conversation, added to the drop of vodka which he held drunk, put Orloff into a more cheerful frame of mind. "If I were to tell A, then I should also have to tell B," he consoled himself with thinking, whilst he rubbed the feet of a patient. "As the ale is drawn, so it must be drunk." Behind him some one was begging in a plaintive voice--"Give me water!... Give me something to drink ... for the love of...." Another one called out, his teeth chattering with cold--"Oh!... Och!... Hohoho!... hotter still!... It does me good, doctor! Christ will reward you!... Give me some more hot water...." "Just pass the wine over here!" called out Doctor Wasschtschenko.