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Kremnev had never felt such a throbbing joy as he felt now, sitting on the carriage step. Pan Ponyatsky repeated that she was a beauty, and waiting that the captain must not delay; and led him through the dark corridor of the train. The carriage smelt of men and leather; behind the doors of the compartments echoed a sound of laughter from those who were playing cards.
It was an officer's compartment; there was a smell of perfume, and on one of the lower bunks was a woman sleeping. Kremnev threw off his cloak and sat down by the sleeping figure. The door opened; Pan Ponyatsky thrust in his head and whispered: "Don't worry about her, sir; she is all right, only a little quieter now." Then the head disappeared. Love! Love over the seas and hills and years!
None could hear the rattling fire of the machine-guns and rifles. All was lost in a torrential downpour of rain. Towards evening there was a halt. All were eager to rest. No one noticed the approaching dawn. Then a Russian battery commenced to thunder. They were ordered to counter-attack. They trudged back through the rain, no one knew why Agrenev, Kremnev, the brethren three women.
The two men walked half the length of the train. As they passed from one waggon to another they saw the flare of a rocket in the distance, and in its baleful green light the number of carriage 30-35 loomed in faint outline. Pan Ponyatsky unlocked the door and whispered: "Here. Only mind, be quiet." The Pan closed the door after Kremnev.
Someone cynically remarked that there was a close resemblance between life at the front and life in a monastery, in as much as in both the chief topic of conversation was women: there was no reason, therefore, why monks should not be sent to the front for fasting and prayer. While they were playing cards, the guard, Pan Ponyatsky, came in and spoke to the cavalry-captain Kremnev.
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