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 street. 'He's drunk
his bitch, and his dagger!' shouted the boys, crowding together and
stepping backwards.

These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eroshka, who with his gun on his
shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was returning from
his shooting expedition.

'I have done wrong, lads, I have!' he said, vigorously swinging his
arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the street. 'I have
drunk the bitch; it was wrong,' he repeated, evidently vexed but
pretending not to care.

Olenin was surprised by the boys' behavior towards the old hunter, but
was still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and the
powerful build of the man whom they called Daddy Eroshka.

'Here Daddy, here Cossack!' he called. 'Come here!'

The old man looked into the window and stopped.

'Good evening, good man,' he said, lifting his little cap off his
cropped head.

'Good evening, good man,' replied Olenin. 'What is it the youngsters
are shouting at you?'

Daddy Eroshka came up to the window. 'Why, they're teasing the old man.
No