Then I recalled the previous day, my adventurous passage across the frontier, the search for Marsh and Melnikoff, the secret café, and my meeting with my present humble friends. With disconcerting brusqueness I also recollected that I had as yet no prospects for the ensuing night. But I persuaded myself that much might happen before nightfall and tried to think no more about it.
Stepanovna had quite got over her fright, and when I came into the kitchen to wash and drink another glass of tea she greeted me kindly. Dmitri sat on his box in stolid silence, munching a crust of bread.
“Been in the Red army long?” I asked him, by way of conversation.
“Three weeks,” he replied.
“Well, and do you like it?”
Dmitri pouted and shrugged his shoulders disparagingly.
“Do you have to do much service?” I persisted.
“Done none yet.”
“No drill?”
“None.”