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Updated: May 3, 2025
"My orders are to give it at once to the general on duty." "Wait a moment, I'll light a candle. You damned rascal, where do you always hide it?" said the voice of the man who was stretching himself, to the orderly. The orderly was striking a light and Shcherbinin was fumbling for something on the candlestick. "Oh, the nasty beasts!" said he with disgust.
"Who gave the report?" inquired Shcherbinin, taking the envelope. "The news is reliable," said Bolkhovitinov. "Prisoners, Cossacks, and the scouts all say the same thing." "There's nothing to be done, we'll have to wake him," said Shcherbinin, rising and going up to the man in the nightcap who lay covered by a greatcoat. "Peter Petrovich!" said he.
When the flame of the sulphur splinters kindled by the tinder burned up, first blue and then red, Shcherbinin lit the tallow candle, from the candlestick of which the cockroaches that had been gnawing it were running away, and looked at the messenger. Bolkhovitinov was bespattered all over with mud and had smeared his face by wiping it with his sleeve.
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