fore part of the cannon, the rascal. Reprimand
him."

He raised his eyes to Ryabovitch and went on:

"It seems to me your front strap is too long."

Making a few other tedious remarks, the general looked at Lobytko
and grinned.

"You look very melancholy today, Lieutenant Lobytko," he said. "Are
you pining for Madame Lopuhov? Eh? Gentlemen, he is pining for
Madame Lopuhov."

The lady in question was a very stout and tall person who had long
passed her fortieth year. The general, who had a predilection for
solid ladies, whatever their ages, suspected a similar taste in his
officers. The officers smiled respectfully. The general, delighted
at having said something very amusing and biting, laughed loudly,
touched his coachman's back, and saluted. The carriage rolled on. . . .

"All I am dreaming about now which seems to me so impossible and
unearthly is really quite an ordinary thing," thought Ryabovitch,
looking at the clouds of dust racing after the general's carriage.
"It's all very ordinary, and every one goes through it. . . . That
general, for instance, has once been in love; now he is married and
has children. Captain Vahter, too, is married and beloved, though
the nape of his neck is very red and ugly and he has no waist. . . .
Salrnanov is coarse and very Tatar, but he has had a love affair
that has ended in marriage. . . . I am the same as every one else,
and I, too, shall have the same experience as every one else, sooner
or later. . . ."

And the thought that he was an ordinary person, and that his life
was ordinary, delighted him and gave him courage. He pictured her
and his happiness as he pleased, and put no rein on his imagination.

When the brigade reached their halting-place in the evening, and
the officers were resting in their tents, Ryabovitch, Merzlyakov,
and Lobytko were sitting round a box having supper. Merzlyakov ate
without haste, and, as he munched deliberately, read the "Vyestnik
Evropi," which he held on his knees. Lobytko talked incessantly and
kept filling up his glass with beer, and Ryabovitch, whose head was
confused from dreaming all day long, drank and said nothing. After
three glasses he got a little drunk, felt weak, and had an irresistible
desire to impart his new sensations to his comrades.

"A strange thing happened to me at those Von Rabbeks'," he began,
trying to put an indifferent and ironical tone into his voice. "You
know I went into the billiard-room. . . ."

He