X.
It was still rather warm, though the sun was already set, when the battalion arrived at Morozovka. In front of them, along the dusty village street, trotted a brindled cow, separated from the herd, bellowing, and occasionally stopping to look round, and never once perceiving that all she had to do was to turn out and let the battalion pass.
Peasants, old men, women, children, and domestic serfs, crowding both sides of the road, gazed curiously at the hussars.
Through a thick cloud of dust the hussars rode along on raven-black horses, curvetting and occasionally snorting.
At the right of the battalion, gracefully mounted on beautiful black steeds, rode two officers. One was the commander, Count Turbin; the other a very young man, who had recently been promoted from the yunkers; his name was Polózof.
A hussar, in a white kittel, came from the best of the cottages, and, taking off his cap, approached the officers.
"What quarters have been assigned to us?" asked the count.
"For your excellency?" replied the quartermaster, his whole body shuddering. "Here at the stárosta's; he has put his cottage in order. I tried to get a room at the mansion,[79] but they said no; the proprietress is so ill-tempered."
"Well, all right," said the count, dismounting and stretching his legs as he reached the stárosta's cottage. "Tell me, has my carriage come?"
"It has deigned to arrive, your excellency," replied the quartermaster, indicating with his cap the leathern carriage-top which was to be seen inside the gate, and then hastening ahead into the entry of the cottage, which was crowded with the family of serfs, gathered to have a look at the officer.