“It is all very well for them, the ——. They receive their hundred and forty roubles a month clear, while we—so generous of them—get seven and a half. Wait a bit, our turn will come.”
Silence.
“I hear they are sharing the land in our place in the province of Kharkov. If I could only get home.”
There was a knock at the door. The Sergeant-Major had come.
“Your honour (so he always addressed his Company Commander in the absence of witnesses), the Company is angry, and threatens to leave the position if it is not relieved at once. The Second Battalion should have relieved us at five o’clock, and it is not here yet. Couldn’t they be rung up?”
“They will not go away. All right, I shall inquire; but, all the same, it is too late now. After this morning’s incident the Germans will not allow us to be relieved by day.”
“They will allow us. The Committee members know about it already. I think”—he lowered his voice—“that Soloveytchick has managed to slip across and explain matters. It is rumoured that the Germans have promised to overlook it, on condition that next time the Colonel comes to visit the trenches we should let them know, and they will throw a bomb. You had better report it or else, who knows?”
“All right.”
The Sergeant-Major was preparing to leave. The Lieutenant stopped him.
“Matters are bad, Petrovitch. They do not trust us.”