At one spot he stood still, listening. “Do you hear?” he said. Petya recognised the sound of voices speaking Russian, and saw round the camp-fire the dark outlines of Russian prisoners. When they reached the bridge again, Petya and Dolohov passed the sentinel, who, without uttering a word, paced gloomily up and down. They came out to the hollow where the Cossacks were waiting for them.

“Well now, good-bye. Tell Denisov, at sunrise, at the first shot,” said Dolohov, and he was going on, but Petya clutched at his arm.

“Oh!” he cried, “you are a hero! Oh! how splendid it is! how jolly! How I love you!”

“That’s all right,” answered Dolohov, but Petya did not let go of him, and in the dark Dolohov made out that he was bending over to him to be kissed. Dolohov kissed him, laughed, and turning his horse’s head, vanished into the darkness.