"I don't care," said the soldier, holding out the handle of the knife.
The cook gave the knife to me, and pushed the soldier into the cabin.
"Lie down and go to sleep. What is the matter with you, eh?"
The soldier sat on a hammock in silence.
"He shall bring you something to eat and some vodka. Do you drink vodka?"
"A little sometimes."
"But, look you, don't you touch him. It was not he who made fun of you, do you hear? I tell you that it was not he."
"But why did they torment me?" asked the soldier, softly.
Smouri answered gruffly after a pause:
"How should I know?"