“What’s the matter with you, dearie?” asked Gladishev, sitting down on her bed and stroking her hand.

“Nothing special...  Head aches a little...  I hit myself.”

“Well, don’t you pay any attention.”

“Well, here I’ve seen you, and already I feel better.  How is it you haven’t been here for so long?”

“I couldn’t snatch away the time, nohow-camping.  You know yourself...  We had to put away twenty-five versts a day.  The whole day drilling and drilling:  field, formation, garrison.  With a full pack.  Used to get so fagged out from morning to night that towards evening you couldn’t feel your legs under you...  We were at the manoeuvres also...  It isn’t sweet...”

“Oh, you poor little things!” Little White Manka suddenly clasped her hands.  “And what do they torture you for, angels that you are?  If I was to have a brother like you, or a son—­my heart would just simply bleed.  Here’s to your health, little cadet!”

They clinked glasses.  Jennka was just as attentively scrutinizing Gladishev.

“And you, Jennechka?” he asked, extending a glass.

“I don’t want to,” she answered listlessly, “but, however, ladies, you’ve drunk some wine, chatted a bit—­don’t wear the welcome off the mat.”

“Perhaps you’ll stay with me the whole night?” she asked Gladishev, when the others had gone away.  “Don’t you be afraid, dearie; if you won’t have enough money, I’ll pay the difference for you.  You see, how good-looking you are, that a wench does not grudge even money for you?” she began laughing.

Gladishev turned around to her; even his unobserving ear was struck by Jennka’s strange tone—­neither sad, nor kindly, nor yet mocking.

“No, sweetie, I’d be very glad to; I’d like to remain myself, but I can’t possibly; I promised to be home toward ten o’clock.”

“That’s nothing, dear, they’ll wait; you’re altogether a grown-up man now.  Is it possible that you have to listen to anybody? ...  But, however, as you wish.  Shall I put out the light entirely, perhaps; or is it all right the way it is?  Which do you want—­the outside or near the wall?”

“It’s immaterial to me,” he answered in a quavering voice; and, having embraced with his arm the hot, dry body of Jennka, he stretched with his lips toward her face.  She slightly repulsed him.

“Wait, bear a while, sweetheart—­we have time enough to kiss our fill yet.  Just lie still for one little minute...  So, now... quiet, peaceful... don’t stir...”

These words, passionate and imperious, acted like hypnosis upon Gladishev.  He submitted to her and lay down on his back, putting his hands underneath his head.  She raised herself a little, leant upon her elbow, and placing her head upon the bent hand, silently, in the faint half-light, was looking his body over—­so white, strong, muscular; with a high and broad pectoral cavity; with well-made ribs; with a narrow pelvis; and with mighty, bulging thighs.  The dark tan of the face and the upper half of the neck was divided by a sharp line from the whiteness of the shoulders and breast.