“What’s to be done, your honour, with the three who....”
“Shoot them at dawn,” interrupted the captain sharply, not allowing the sergeant to finish his sentence, “And afterwards”—he frowned and looked meaningly at the soldier—“don’t ask me any more questions about them. Do you understand?”
“Certainly, your honour,” answered the soldier emphatically.... And they were both silent again. The captain lay down on the bed without undressing, and the sergeant remained at the door in the shadow. For some reason or other he delayed his departure.
“Is that all?” asked the captain impatiently, without turning his head.
“Yes, that’s all, your honour.” The soldier fidgeted from one foot to another, and then said suddenly, with a determined resolution,
“Your honour ... the soldiers want to know ... what’s to be done with ... the old man?”
“Get out!” shouted the captain with sudden anger, jumping up from the bed and making as if to strike him.
The sergeant-major turned dexterously in double-quick time, and opened the door. But on the threshold he stopped for a moment and said in an official voice,
“Ah, your honour, permit me to congratulate your honour on the New Year, and to wish....”
“Thanks, brother,” answered the captain dryly. “Don’t forget to have the rifles examined more carefully to-morrow.”