Part 2 - Chapter 20 - Page 2

"I have not lighted the fire. Here somewhere about."

"Come, enough fooling! Where is the letter?"

"No, I've forgotten really. Or was it a dream? Wait a bit, wait
a bit! But what's the use of getting in a rage. If you'd drunk
four bottles yesterday as I did you'd forget where you were
lying. Wait a bit, I'll remember!"

Petritsky went behind the partition and lay down on his bed.

"Wait a bit! This was how I was lying, and this was how he was
standing. Yes--yes--yes.... Here it is!"--and Petritsky pulled
a letter out from under the mattress, where he had hidden it.

Vronsky took the letter and his brother's note. It was the
letter he was expecting--from his mother, reproaching him for
not having been to see her--and the note was from his brother to
say that he must have a little talk with him. Vronsky knew that
it was all about the same thing. "What business is it of
theirs!" thought Vronsky, and crumpling up the letters he thrust
them between the buttons of his coat so as to read them carefully
on the road. In the porch of the hut he was met by two officers;
one of his regiment and one of another.

Vronsky's quarters were always a meeting place for all the
officers.

"Where are you off to?"

"I must go to Peterhof."

"Has the mare come from Tsarskoe?"

"Yes, but I've not seen her yet."

"They say Mahotin's Gladiator's lame."

"Nonsense! But however are you going to race in this mud?" said
the other.

"Here are my saviors!" cried Petritsky, seeing them come in.
Before him stood the orderly with a tray of brandy and salted
cucumbers. "Here's Yashvin ordering me a drink a pick-me-up."

"Well, you did give it to us yesterday," said one of those who
had come in; "you didn't let us get a wink of sleep all night."

"Oh, didn't we make a pretty finish!" said Petritsky. "Volkov
climbed onto the roof and began telling us how sad he was. I
said: 'Let's have music, the funeral march!' He fairly dropped
asleep on the roof over the funeral march."

"Drink it up; you positively must drink the brandy, and then
seltzer water and a lot of lemon," said Yashvin, standing over
Petritsky like a mother making a child take medicine, "and then a
little champagne--just a small bottle."

"Come, there's some sense in that. Stop a bit, Vronsky. We'll
all have a drink."

"No; good-bye all of you. I'm not going to drink today."

"Why, are you gaining weight? All right, then we must have it
alone. Give us the seltzer water and lemon."

"Vronsky!" shouted someone when he was already outside.

"Well?"

"You'd better get your hair cut, it'll weigh you down, especially
at the top."

Vronsky