And in an instant the whole crowd began to sing words of a proud, melancholy, revolutionary song. The Cossacks looked on morosely. The command was given. The Cossacks quickly mounted their horses. The singing stopped abruptly.
Once outside the cemetery gates, Elisaveta said:
“I am hungry!”
“Let’s go to my place,” suggested Trirodov.
“Thank you,” said Elisaveta. “But I’d rather go to some tavern.”
Trirodov looked at her in astonishment, but made no objection. He understood her curiosity.
The tavern was crowded and noisy. Trirodov and Elisaveta sat down near the window, at a small table covered with a dirty, spotted cloth. They ordered cold meat and light beer.
At one of the tables, a young man in a red shirt sat drinking. He was in a boastful mood. Behind his ear stuck a cigarette. The fellow intruded upon his neighbours, and shouted:
“Who’s drunk?”