Volodya, on his bed in this quiet corner crammed with people and lighted by a solitary candle, experienced a sensation of cosiness such as he had felt as a child when, playing hide-and-seek, he used to creep into the cupboard or under his mother’s skirt and sit listening in breathless silence, afraid of the dark, yet conscious of enjoyment. It felt rather uncanny, yet his spirits were high.
After ten minutes or so the soldiers grew bolder and began to talk. The more important people—two noncommissioned officers, an old grey-haired one with all the medals and crosses except that of St. George, and a young one, a Cantonist,[53] who was smoking cigarettes made by himself—had settled nearest to the light and to the officer’s bed. The drummer had, as usual, taken upon himself the duty of waiti
