“God alone knows whom they trust; only last week the Sixth Company elected their Sergeant-Major themselves, and now they are making a mock of him; they won’t let him say a word.”
“What will things be afterwards?”
The Sergeant-Major blushed, and said softly:
“Then the Soloveytchicks will rule over us, and we shall be, so to speak, dumb animals before them—that is how matters will be, your honour.”
The relief came at last. Captain Bouravin, the Commander of the Fifth Company, came into the hut. Albov offered to show him the section and explain the disposition of the enemy.
“Very well, though that does not matter, because I am not really in command of the Company—I am boycotted.”
“How?”
“Just so. They have elected the 2nd Lieutenant, my subaltern, as Company Commander, and degraded me as a supporter of the old régime, because, you see, I had drill twice a day—you know that the marching contingents come up here absolutely untrained. Indeed, the 2nd Lieutenant was the first to vote for my removal. ‘We have been slave-driven long enough,’ said he. ‘Now we are free. We must clean out everyone, beginning with the head. A young man can manage the regiment just as well, so long as he is a true Democrat and supports the freedom of the soldier.’ I would have left, but the Colonel flatly refused to allow it, and forbids me to hand over the company. So now, you see, we have two commanders. I have stood the situation for five days. Look here, Albov, you are not in a hurry, are you? Very good, then; let us have a chat. I am feeling depressed. Albov, have you not yet thought of suicide?”
“Not as yet.”
Bouravin rose to his feet.