“ That old man, the one with the bundle, a house-serf of General Zhukov’s.... He was cook at our general’s, God rest his soul! He came over this evening: ‘Let me stay the night,’ says he.... Well, we had a glass, to be sure.... The wife got the samovar—she was going to give the old fellow a cup of tea, and in an unlucky hour she set the samovar in the entrance. The sparks from the chimney must have blown straight up to the thatch; that’s how it was. We were almost burnt ourselves. And the old fellow’s cap has been burnt; what a shame!”
And the sheet of iron was struck indefatigably, and the bells kept ringing in the church the other side of the river. In the glow of the fire, Olga, breathless, looking with horror at the red sheep and the pink doves flying in the smoke, kept running down
