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- Стр. 969/1273
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"
Quarters
,
quarters
,
lodgings
!
The
French
are
good
fellows
.
What
the
devil
!
There
,
do
n't
let
us
be
cross
,
old
fellow
!
"
Again
the
officer
turned
to
Gerásim
and
asked
him
to
show
him
the
rooms
in
the
house
.
"
Master
,
not
here
--
do
n't
understand
...
me
,
you
...
"
said
Gerásim
,
trying
to
render
his
words
more
comprehensible
by
contorting
them
.
Still
smiling
,
the
French
officer
spread
out
his
hands
before
Gerásim
's
nose
,
intimating
that
he
did
not
understand
him
either
,
and
moved
,
limping
,
to
the
door
at
which
Pierre
was
standing
.
Pierre
wished
to
go
away
and
conceal
himself
,
but
at
that
moment
he
saw
Makár
Alexéevich
appearing
at
the
open
kitchen
door
with
the
pistol
in
his
hand
.
With
a
madman
's
cunning
,
Makár
Alexéevich
eyed
the
Frenchman
,
raised
his
pistol
,
and
took
aim
.
"
Board
them
!
"
yelled
the
tipsy
man
,
trying
to
press
the
trigger
.
Hearing
the
yell
the
officer
turned
round
,
and
at
the
same
moment
Pierre
threw
himself
on
the
drunkard
.
Just
when
Pierre
snatched
at
and
struck
up
the
pistol
Makár
Alexéevich
at
last
got
his
fingers
on
the
trigger
,
there
was
a
deafening
report
,
and
all
were
enveloped
in
a
cloud
of
smoke
.
The
Frenchman
turned
pale
and
rushed
to
the
door
.
Forgetting
his
intention
of
concealing
his
knowledge
of
French
,
Pierre
,
snatching
away
the
pistol
and
throwing
it
down
,
ran
up
to
the
officer
and
addressed
him
in
French
.
"
You
are
not
wounded
?
"
he
asked
.
"
I
think
not
,
"
answered
the
Frenchman
,
feeling
himself
over
.
