He reaches for the glass—already cold, curse it! Not very long now and it will be day again and a new assault, as vain as the others, will bring them face to face with death.
A cold draft strikes his neck. He turns around, half angry, to see who has entered.
II—THE COSSACK LIEUTENANT'S HATRED
"Ah, so!"
It is the sotnik (lieutenant) of a Cossack detachment which has received the order to drive the last Jews out of the surrounding villages, so that the army can have a free field. The snow, which has frozen finger thick on his green overcoat, begins to melt in the close, hot air of the room. The small, hard Asiatic eyes shine. The red, frosted fists are still clenched, as if they had just beaten somebody.
"One can't be really angry with these fellows," says the colonel to himself, with a feeling of soldierly satisfaction.
"They are such splendid beasts."
But he asks aloud:
"Finished?"
The Cossack's laugh is quick and harsh.