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    Chapter 11

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    Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing,
    and having learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging,
    pacified the old woman and satisfied Vanyusha's demands.

    Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved
    into the winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for
    three rubles a month. Olenin had something to eat and went to
    sleep. Towards evening he woke up, washed and made himself tidy,
    dined, and having lit a cigarette sat down by the window that
    looked onto the street. It was cooler. The slanting shadow of the
    hut with its ornamental gables fell across the dusty road and even
    bent upwards at the base of the wall of the house opposite. The
    steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in the rays of the
    setting sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was peaceful in the
    village. The soldiers had settled down and become quiet. The herds
    had not yet been driven home and the people had not returned from
    their work.

    Olenin's lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At
    rare intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Terek in those parts
    whence Olenin had just come (the Chechen or the Kumytsk plain),
    came muffled sounds of firing. Olenin was feeling very well
    contented after three months of bivouac life. His newly washed
    face was fresh and his powerful body clean (an unaccustomed
    sensation after the campaign) and in all his rested limbs he was
    conscious of a feeling of tranquillity and strength. His mind,
    too, felt fresh and clear. He thought of the campaign and of past
    dangers. He remembered that he had faced them no worse than other
    men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among valiant
    Caucasians. His Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven knows
    how far! The old life was wiped out and a quite new life had begun
    in which there were as yet no mistakes. Here as a new man among
    new men he could gain a new and good reputation. He was conscious
    of a youthful and unreasoning joy of life. Looking now out of the
    window at the boys spinning their tops in the shadow of the house,
    now round his neat new lodging, he thought how pleasantly he would
    settle down to this new Cossack village life. Now and then he
    glanced at the mountains and the blue sky, and an appreciation of
    the solemn grandeur of nature mingled with his reminiscences and

    dreams. His new life had begun, not as he imagined it would when
    he left Moscow, but unexpectedly well. 'The mountains, the
    mountains, the mountains!' they permeated all his thoughts and
    feelings.

    'He's kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eroshka has
    kissed his dog!' suddenly the little Cossacks who had been
    spinning their tops under the window shouted, looking towards the
    side
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