of distress and almost crying; "why, I only came for the sake of the lemon."
The other again burst into a hollow and lingering laugh, and nobody checked him. But he soon stopped. He gave a snigger, and was silent. Somebody said:
"To-morrow we begin the advance on the enemy."
But several voices cried out angrily:
"Nonsense, advance on the enemy, indeed!"
"But you know yourself"
"Shut up. As if we cannot talk of something else."
The sunset faded. The cloud lifted, and it seemed to grow lighter; the faces became more familiar, and he, who kept circling round us, grew calmer and sat down.
"I wonder what it's like at home now?" asked he vaguely, and in his voice there sounded a guilty smile.
And once again all became terrible, incomprehensible, and strange—so intensely so that we were filled with horror, almost to the verge of losing consciousness. And we all began talking and shouting at the same time, bustling about, moving our glasses, touching each other's shoulders, hands, knees—and all at once became silent, giving way before the incomprehensible.
"At home?" cried somebody out of the darkness. His voice was hoarse and quivering with emotion, fear and hatred. And some of the words would not come out, as if he had forgotten how to say them.
"At home? What home? Why, is there home anywhere? Don't interrupt me or else I shall fire. At home I used to take a bath every day—can you understand?—a bath
