She summoned a maid-servant and told her to call an orderly officer. The little old man looked at me out of his one eye with much curiosity.
“May I ask,” said he, “in what regiment you have deigned to serve?”
I satisfied his curiosity.
“And may I ask,” he continued, “why you have exchanged the Guards for this garrison?”
I replied that such was the wish of the authorities.
“Probably for conduct unbecoming an officer of the Guards?” continued the indefatigable interrogator.
“A truce to your foolish chatter,” said the Captain’s wife to him; “you see that the young man is tired after his journey. He has something else to do than to listen to your nonsense.” Then turning to me she added: “You are not the first, and you will not be the last. It is a hard life here, but you will soon get to like it. It is five years ago since Shvabrin Alexei Ivanitch was sent here to us for a murder. Heaven knows what it was that caused him to go wrong. You see, he went out of the town with a lieutenant; they had taken their swords with them, and they began to thrust at one another, and Alexei Ivanitch stabbed the lieutenant, and all before two witnesses! But what would you? Man is not master of sin.”
At this moment the orderly officer, a young and well-built Cossack, entered the room.
“Maximitch,” said the Captain’s wife to him, “conduct this officer to his quarters, and see that everything is attended to.”
“I obey, Vassilissa Egorovna,” replied the orderly. “Is not his Excellency to lodge with Ivan Polejaeff?”