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- Стр. 968/1273
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Pierre
,
having
decided
that
until
he
had
carried
out
his
design
he
would
disclose
neither
his
identity
nor
his
knowledge
of
French
,
stood
at
the
half-open
door
of
the
corridor
,
intending
to
conceal
himself
as
soon
as
the
French
entered
.
But
the
French
entered
and
still
Pierre
did
not
retire
--
an
irresistible
curiosity
kept
him
there
.
There
were
two
of
them
.
One
was
an
officer
--
a
tall
,
soldierly
,
handsome
man
--
the
other
evidently
a
private
or
an
orderly
,
sunburned
,
short
,
and
thin
,
with
sunken
cheeks
and
a
dull
expression
.
The
officer
walked
in
front
,
leaning
on
a
stick
and
slightly
limping
.
When
he
had
advanced
a
few
steps
he
stopped
,
having
apparently
decided
that
these
were
good
quarters
,
turned
round
to
the
soldiers
standing
at
the
entrance
,
and
in
a
loud
voice
of
command
ordered
them
to
put
up
the
horses
.
Having
done
that
,
the
officer
,
lifting
his
elbow
with
a
smart
gesture
,
stroked
his
mustache
and
lightly
touched
his
hat
.
"
Bonjour
,
la
compagnie
!
"
*
said
he
gaily
,
smiling
and
looking
about
him
.
*
"
Good
day
,
everybody
!
"
No
one
gave
any
reply
.
"
Vous
êtes
le
bourgeois
?
"
*
the
officer
asked
Gerásim
.
*
"
Are
you
the
master
here
?
"
Gerásim
gazed
at
the
officer
with
an
alarmed
and
inquiring
look
.
"
Quartier
,
quartier
,
logement
!
"
said
the
officer
,
looking
down
at
the
little
man
with
a
condescending
and
good-natured
smile
.
"
Les
français
sont
de
bons
enfants
.
Que
diable
!
Voyons
!
Ne
nous
fâchons
pas
,
mon
vieux
!
"
*
added
he
,
clapping
the
scared
and
silent
Gerásim
on
the
shoulder
.
"
Well
,
does
no
one
speak
French
in
this
establishment
?
"
he
asked
again
in
French
,
looking
around
and
meeting
Pierre
's
eyes
.
Pierre
moved
away
from
the
door
.
