ead on
his hand. A cock crowed in the yard opposite, but Olenin still paced up
and down thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several
voices reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The
voices of several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one voice
was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength.

'Do you know who is singing there?' said the old man, rousing himself.
'It is the Brave, Lukashka. He has killed a Chechen and now he
rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? ... The fool, the fool!'

'And have you ever killed people?' asked Olenin.

'You devil!' shouted the old man. 'What are you asking? One must not
talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... Ah, a very
serious thing! Good-bye, my dear fellow. I've eaten my fill and am
drunk,' he said rising. 'Shall I come to-morrow to go shooting?'

'Yes, come!'

'Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!'

'Never fear, I'll be up before you,' answered Olenin.

The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps and
merry talk. A little later the singing broke out again but farther
away, and Eroshka's loud voice chimed in with the other. 'What people,
what a life!' thought Olenin with a sigh as he returned alone to his
hut.

Chapter XVI

Daddy Eroshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty years
ago his wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run away from him
and married a Russian sergeant-major, and he had no children. He was
not bragging when he spoke of himself as having been the boldest
dare-devil in the village when he was young. Everybody in the regiment
knew of his old-time prowess. The death of more than one Russian, as
well as Chechen, lay on his conscience. He used to go plundering in the
mountains, and robbed the Russians too; and he had twice been in
prison. The greater part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting.
There he lived for days on a crust of bread and drank nothing but
water. But on the other hand, when he was in the village he made merry
from morning to night. After leaving Olenin he slept for a couple of
hours and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking of the
man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Olenin's
'simplicity' (simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink)
pleased him very much, and so did Olenin himself. He wondered why the
Russians were all 'simple' and so rich, and why they