while in the square, near the house, the commandant, a tall and hale old
man, wearing a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap, was busy drilling
some twenty elderly men--all pensioners.

Chvabrine, an officer who had been dismissed from the guards for
fighting a duel, and Marya, a young girl of sixteen, with a fresh, round
face, the commandant's daughter, were also at dinner.

Mironoff pleaded in excuse for being late for dinner that he had been
busy drilling his little soldiers, but his wife cut him short
ruthlessly.

"Nonsense," she said, "you're only boasting; they are past service, and
you don't remember much about the drill. Far better for you to stay at
home and say your prayers." Vassilissa Ignorofna never seemed to stop
talking, and overwhelmed me with questions.

In the course of a few weeks I found that she not only led her husband
completely, but also directed all military affairs, and ruled the fort
as completely as she did the household. This really suited Ivan Mironoff
very well, for he was a good-hearted, uneducated man, staunch and true,
who had been raised from the ranks, and was now grown lazy. Both husband
and wife were excellent people, and I soon became attached to them, and
to the daughter Marya, an affectionate and sensible girl.

As for Chvabrine, he at first professed great friendship for me; but
being in love with Marya, who detested him, he began to hate me when he
saw a growing friendliness between Marya and myself.

I was now an officer, but there was little work for me to do. There was