So there was a price of fifty thousand kronen on his head, reflected Korniloff, as he left the restaurant. He felt strangely elated at the thought that he was calmly passing among the enemy unknown and unsuspected with such a reward offered for his capture. He bought a newspaper to obtain confirmation of the woman's announcement, and there he found the notice in large type, with a curiously inaccurate portrait of himself.
The darkness was now falling, and he walked on until he found himself in the Franz Josefplatz. A large number of soldiers were camping in the square, lying upon the benches or on the ground, and evidently preparing to spend the night there. Artillery-wagons were lined up all round. A man he passed—an Austrian artillery man—looked up at him and smiled. He was fixing his haversack against the trunk of a tree to serve as a sort of pillow.
"As good here as anywhere else," said the man in German.
"To be sure," Korniloff replied. "Better than the trenches, anyway. Why is the regiment bivouacking here?"
"No room elsewhere, comrade," said the soldier. "Wounded and soldiers everywhere—all the barracks full; everything full. Well, it's a nice night. Have a smoke?"
He offered a cigar, which the disguised general accepted, sitting down beside his new-found friend.
"Where have you come from, and where are you going?" asked the Austrian.
"Rejoining my regiment after convalescence," replied Korniloff.
They sat and exchanged confidence for some time, the Austrian asking numerous questions which Korniloff parried as well as he could. The gunner confessed that he was heartily sick of the war, as were all his comrades. He heard nothing but complaints from his home, where conditions were getting harder and food was becoming scarcer.