Vassilissa Yegorovna received us without any ceremony, but with warmth, and treated me as if she had known me for years. The invalid and Paláshka were laying the table.
"Why, what makes my Ivan Kouzmitch stay out so long to-day?" said the commandant's wife. "Paláshka, call your master to dinner. But where is Masha?"
Here a chubby and rosy-cheeked maiden of about eighteen, with light-brown hair smoothly brushed down behind her ears, which seemed to blush and tingle, came in. She did not impress me favourably at first. I had been prejudiced against her. Shvabrine had described Masha, the captain's daughter, as being a thorough simpleton. Maria Ivanovna [1]retired to a corner, and took up her needlework. The stchy[2] was served. Vassilissa Yegorovna not seeing her husband, again despatched Paláshka after him.
"Tell thy master the guests are waiting—the stchy will get cold—thank goodness the drills won't run away—he will have plenty of time to shriek himself hoarse."
The captain soon appeared accompanied by the one-eyed old man.
"What's the matter, my little father?" said his wife; "dinner has been served some time, and we cannot get thee to come."
"The fact is, Vassilissa Yegorovna," answered Ivan Kouzmitch, "I was on duty; I was instructing the little soldiers."
"Oh! nonsense," reiterated his wife; "thou only
