ers and roofed with branches and turf. The
hut was made in the following manner, which had then come into vogue. A
trench was dug three and a half feet wide, four feet eight inches deep,
and eight feet long. At one end of the trench, steps were cut out and
these formed the entrance and vestibule. The trench itself was the room,
in which the lucky ones, such as the squadron commander, had a board,
lying on piles at the end opposite the entrance, to serve as a table. On
each side of the trench, the earth was cut out to a breadth of about two
and a half feet, and this did duty for bedsteads and couches. The roof
was so constructed that one could stand up in the middle of the trench
and could even sit up on the beds if one drew close to the table.
Denisov, who was living luxuriously because the soldiers of his squadron
liked him, had also a board in the roof at the farther end, with a piece
of (broken but mended) glass in it for a window. When it was very cold,
embers from the soldiers' campfire were placed on a bent sheet of iron
on the steps in the "reception room"--as Denisov called that part of
the hut--and it was then so warm that the officers, of whom there were
always some with Denisov and Rostov, sat in their shirt sleeves.

In April, Rostov was on orderly duty. One morning, between seven and
eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed
his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm,
then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and,
his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his
shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head. He was
pleasantly considering the probability of being promoted in a few days
for his last reconnoitering expedition, and was awaiting Denisov, who
had gone out somewhere and with whom he wanted a talk.

Suddenly he heard Denisov shouting in a vibrating voice behind the hut,
evidently much excited. Rostov moved to the window to see whom he was
speaking to, and saw the quartermaster, Topcheenko.

"I ordered you not to let them eat that Mashka woot stuff!" Denisov was
shouting. "And I saw with my own eyes how Lazarchuk bwought some fwom
the fields."

"I have given the order again and again, your honor, but they don't
obey," answered the quartermaster.

Rostov lay down again on his bed and thought complacently: "Let him fuss
and bustle now, my job's done and I'm lying down--capitally!" He could