"And then," pursues Paul, following up his advantage, "didn't Napolevon come to an evil end at last, as the devil's servants always do? Didn't we beat him and take him prisoner? and wasn't he chained to a rock in the middle of the sea, beyond thrice nine lands, and kept there till he rotted?"
"You speak truth, Brother Pavel; and it served him right, too, the accursed infidel! for burning our churches and blaspheming the orthodox faith."
Then follows a short pause, during which the two speakers sip their tea with genuine Russian enjoyment. At length, Yakov Andreievitch breaks the silence by saying, in a reverential undertone, "Tell me now, Pavel Petrovitch—you who know everything—how did the Nyemtzi manage to take Paris-Gorod if it was such a strong place? I've heard our folks in the village talk about it, but I couldn't quite make out what they said—something about trenches, and a bom—bom—"
"Bombardirovanié (bombardment) you mean," suggested his companion, rolling out the magnificent polysyllable with unmistakable enjoyment.
"That's it!" says the other, visibly relieved at being helped over this awkward place. "Now, tell me, please, Pavel Petrovitch, what is a bombardment? Something to do with firing guns, hasn't it?"
"I'll explain all that to you in two words, brother," answers the oracle in a tone of indulgent superiority. "Here, we'll say, is the town—this tumbler here; and these four lumps of sugar round it, here, and here, and here, are the enemy. Well, then, you see, the enemy begin firing their great cannon at the walls to try and knock them down; and then the soldiers inside dig little holes in the ground, called trenches, and burrow in them to avoid the cannon-balls. Then the people outside here—the besiegers, you know—fire great round things, called bombs, straight up in the air, so as to fall right into these holes, as you'd put a cork in a bottle, and smother the men in them; and when they're all dead the town gives in; and that's called a bombardment."
"Gospodi ponilni!" (Lord have mercy!), cries the startled listener. "What strange things there are in this world, to be sure!—Well, Pavel Petrovitch, it's time for us to be going; so let's have one more little glass together and be off."
David Ker.