“I tell you the purse is to be found,” roared Denisov, shaking the orderly by the shoulders and pushing him against the wall.

“Denisov, let him be; I know who has taken it,” said Rostov, going towards the door without raising his eyes.

Denisov stopped, thought a moment, and evidently understanding Rostov’s hint, he clutched him by the arm.

“Nonsense!” he roared so that the veins stood out on his neck and forehead like cords. “I tell you, you’ve gone out of your mind; I won’t allow it. The purse is here; I’ll flay the skin off this rascal, and it will be here.”

“I know who has taken it,” repeated Rostov, in a shaking voice, and he went to the door.

“And I tell you, you’re not to dare to do it,” shouted Denisov, making a dash at the ensign to detain him. But Rostov pulled his arm away, lifted his eyes, and looked directly and resolutely at Denisov with as much fury as if he had been his greatest enemy.

“Do you understand what you’re saying?” he said in a trembling voice; “except me, there has been no one else in the room. So that, if it’s not so, why then …”

He could not utter the rest, and ran out of the room.

“Oh, damn you and all the rest,” were the last words Rostov heard.

Rostov went to Telyanin’s quarters.

“The master’s not at home, he’s gone to the staff,” Telyanin’s orderly told him. “Has something happened?” the orderly added, wondering at the ensign’s troubled face.

“No, nothing.”

“You’ve only just missed him,” said the orderly.

The staff quarters were two miles and a half from Salzeneck. Not having found him at home, Rostov took his horse and rode to the quarters of the staff. In the village, where the staff was quartered, there was a restaurant which the officers frequented. Rostov reached the restaurant and saw Telyanin’s horse at the entry.

In the second room the lieutenant was sitting over a dish of sausages and a bottle of wine.

“Ah, you have come here too, young man,” he said, smiling and lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes,” said Rostov, speaking as though the utterance of the word cost him great effort; and he sat down at the nearest table.

Both were silent; there were two Germans and a Russian officer in the room. Every one was mute, and the only sounds audible were the clatter of knives on the plates and the munching of the lieutenant. When Telyanin had finished his lunch, he took out of his pocket a double purse; with his little white fingers, that were curved at the tips, he parted the rings, took out some gold, and raising his eyebrows, gave the money to the attendant.

“Make haste, please,” he said.

The gold was new. Rostov got up and went to Telyanin.