“Sit down, gentlemen,” he said, rising to go into the tent. “Can I offer you a little porter?”
“I agree to porter, Vassili Mikhaïlovitch.”
Volodia, on whom a profound impression was produced by the grand airs of the officer, as well as by his carelessness and by the respect his brother showed him, said to himself timidly, sitting on the edge of the lounge, “This officer, whom everybody respects, is doubtless a good fellow, hospitable, and probably very brave.”
“Where is our regiment, then?” asked the elder brother from the officer, who had disappeared in the tent.
“What do you say?” shouted the latter.
The other repeated his question.
“I saw Seifer to-day,” he replied; “he told me it was in the fifth bastion.”
“Is it, sure?”
“If I say so it is sure. However, devil take him! he lies cheaply enough! Say,” he added, “will you have some porter?”
“I would gladly take a drink,” replied Koseltzoff.