they had gone. Before he had finished giving those instructions, a staff officer, followed by his suite, galloped up to him.

“You a colonel,” shouted the staff officer, in a voice Prince Andrey knew speaking with a German accent. “Houses are being set on fire in your presence and you stand still! What’s the meaning of it? You will answer for it,” shouted Berg, who was now assistant to the head of the staff of the assistant of the chief officer of the staff of the commander of the left flank of the infantry of the first army, a very agreeable and prominent position, so Berg said.

Prince Andrey stared at him, and without making any reply went on addressing Alpatitch.

“Tell them then that I shall wait for an answer till the 10th, and if I don’t receive news by the 10th, that they have all gone away, I shall be obliged to throw up everything and go myself to Bleak Hills.”

“Prince,” said Berg, recognising Prince Andrey, “I only speak because it’s my duty to carry out my instructions, because I always do exactly carry out…You must please excuse me,” Berg tried to apologise.

There was a crash in the fire. The flames subsided for an instant; black clouds of smoke rolled under the roof. There was another fearful crash, and the falling of some enormous weight.

“Ooo-roo!” the crowd yelled, as the ceiling of the granary fell in, and a smell of baked cakes rose from the burning wheat. The flames flared up again, and lighted up the delighted and careworn faces of the crowd around it.

The man in the frieze coat, brandishing his arms in the air, was shouting:

“First-rate! Now she’s started! First-rate, lads!…” “That’s the owner himself,” murmured voices.

“So you tell them everything I have told you,” said Prince Andrey, addressing Alpatitch. And without bestowing a word on Berg, who stood mute beside him, he put spurs to his horse and rode down the lane.