The third, the artilleryman, on the contrary, pleased Katavasof very much. He was a modest gentleman. He was evidently disgusted by the affected knowledge of the retired officer and the young merchant's boasted heroism, and he would say nothing about himself. When Katavasof asked him what induced him to go to Serbia, he answered modestly:—
"I am going because every one else is going. We must help the Serbians. It is too bad."
"They have very few of our artillerymen, I believe."
"My service in the artillery was very short. I may be assigned to the infantry or the cavalry."
"Why in the infantry, when they need artillerymen more than all?" asked Katavasof, gathering from the artillerist's age that he must have already reached a considerable rank.
"I did not serve very long in the artillery, but left the service when I was only a yunker."
And he began to explain why he had not passed his examination.
All this together produced on Katavasof a generally unpleasant impression, and when the volunteers rushed out into one of the stations to get something to drink, Katavasof felt the desire to talk with some one so as to confirm his unfavorable impression.
One of his fellow-travelers, a little old man in a military paletot, had been listening all the time to Katavasof's talk with the volunteers. As the two were left alone together in the carriage, Katavasof addressed him:—
"What a diversity in the condition of all these men that are going south," said Katavasof, vaguely, wishing to express his opinions and at the same time draw out the old man's views.
The old man was a soldier who had fought in two campaigns, and he knew what it meant to go to war; and in the actions and words of these gentlemen, the bravery with which they kept applying themselves to the flask, he read their inferiority as soldiers. Moreover, his residence was in a district city, and he wanted
