“It’s not hard work, Pavel Ivanitch.  You get up in the morning and clean the boots, get the samovar, sweep the rooms, and then you have nothing more to do.  The lieutenant is all the day drawing plans, and if you like you can say your prayers, if you like you can read a book or go out into the street.  God grant everyone such a life.”

“Yes, very nice, the lieutenant draws plans all the day and you sit in the kitchen and pine for home....  Plans indeed!...  It is not plans that matter, but a human life.  Life is not given twice, it must be treated mercifully.”

“Of course, Pavel Ivanitch, a bad man gets no mercy anywhere, neither at home nor in the army, but if you live as you ought and obey orders, who has any need to insult you?  The officers are educated gentlemen, they understand....  In five years I was never once in prison, and I was never struck a blow, so help me God, but once.”

“What for?”

“For fighting.  I have a heavy hand, Pavel Ivanitch.  Four Chinamen came into our yard; they were bringing firewood or something, I don’t remember.  Well, I was bored and I knocked them about a bit, one’s nose began bleeding, damn the fellow....  The lieutenant saw it through the little window, he was angry and gave me a box on the ear.”

“Foolish, pitiful man...” whispered Pavel Ivanitch.  “You don’t understand anything.”

He was utterly exhausted by the tossing of the ship and closed his eyes; his head alternately fell back and dropped forward on his breast.  Several times he tried to lie down but nothing came of it; his difficulty in breathing prevented it.

“And what did you hit the four Chinamen for?” he asked a little while afterwards.

“Oh, nothing.  They came into the yard and I hit them.”

And a stillness followed....  The card-players had been playing for two hours with enthusiasm and loud abuse of one another, but the motion of the ship overcame them, too; they threw aside the cards and lay down.  Again Gusev saw the big pond, the brick building, the village....  Again the sledge was coming along, again Vanka was laughing and Akulka, silly little thing, threw open her fur coat and stuck her feet out, as much as to say:  “Look, good people, my snowboots are not like Vanka’s, they are new ones.”

“Five years old, and she has no sense yet,” Gusev muttered in delirium.  “Instead of kicking your legs you had better come and get your soldier uncle a drink.  I will give you something nice.”

Then Andron with a flintlock gun on his shoulder was carrying a hare he had killed, and he was followed by the decrepit old Jew Isaitchik, who offers to barter the hare for a piece of soap; then the black calf in the shed, then Domna sewing at a shirt and crying about something, and then again the bull’s head without eyes, black smoke....

Overhead someone gave a loud shout, several sailors ran by, they seemed to be dragging something bulky over the deck, something fell with a crash.  Again they ran by....  Had something gone wrong?  Gusev raised his head, listened, and saw that the two soldiers and the sailor were playing cards again; Pavel Ivanitch was sitting up moving his lips.  It was stifling, one hadn’t strength to breathe, one was thirsty, the water was warm, disgusting.  The ship heaved as much as ever.