In the same way here, without being altogether at his ease, he felt rather disposed to be cheerful.
XXI.
At the end of ten minutes the soldiers got bold and began to talk. Near the officer’s bed, in the circle of light, were placed the highest in rank—the two artificers, one an old gray-haired man, his breast adorned with a mass of medals and crosses, among which the cross of Saint George was wanting, however, the other a young man, smoking cigarettes which he was rolling, and the drummer, who placed himself, as is the custom, at the orders of the officer, in the background. In the shadow of the entrance, behind the bombardier and the medalled soldiers seated in front, the “humbles” kept themselves. They were the first to break silence. One of them, running in frightened from outside, served as a theme for their conversation.
“Eh! say there, you didn’t stay long in the street. Young girls are not playing there, hey?” said a voice.
“On the contrary, they are singing wonderful songs. You don’t hear such ones in the village,” replied the new-comer, with a laugh, and all out of breath.
“Vassina doesn’t like the shells; no, he doesn’t like them!” some one cried from the aristocratic side.
“When it is necessary it is another story,” slowly replied Vassina, whom everybody listened to when he spoke. “The twenty-fourth, for example, they fired so that it was a blessing, and there is no harm in that. Why let us be killed for nothing? Do the chiefs thank us for that?”
These words provoked a general laugh.
“Nevertheless, there is Melnikoff, who is outside all the time,” said some one.
“It is true. Make him come in,” added the old artificer, “otherwise he will get killed for nothing.”