I was wrapped up in a short touloup lined with hare-skin, and over
that a pelisse lined fox-skin. I took my seat in the kibitka with
Saveliitch, and shedding bitter tears, set out for my destination.

That night I arrived at Simbirsk, where I was to stay twenty-four
hours, in order that Saveliitch might make various purchases entrusted
to him. Early in the morning Saveliitch went to the shops, whilst
I stayed in the inn. Tired of gazing out of the window upon a
dirty little street, I rambled about the inn, and at last entered
the billiard-room. I found there a tall gentleman, some forty years
of age, with heavy black moustaches, in his dressing-gown, holding a
cue and smoking his pipe. He was playing with the marker, who was
to drink a glass of brandy and water if he gained, and if he lost
was to pass, on all-fours, under the billiard table. I watched
them playing. The more they played the more frequent became the
promenades on all-fours, so that finally the marker stayed under
the table. The gentleman pronounced over him some energetic
expression, as a funeral oration, and then proposed that I should
play a game with him. I declared that I did not know how to play
billiards. That seemed strange to him. He looked at me with
commiseration.

However, we opened a conversation. I learned that his name was
Ivan Zourine; that he was a chief of a squadron of Hussars stationed
then at Simbirsk recruiting soldiers, and that his quarters were at
my inn. He invited me to mess with him, soldier-fashion, pot-luck.
I accepted with pleasure, and we sat down to dinner. Zourine drank
deeply, and invited me to drink also, saying that I must become
accustomed to the service. He told stories of garrison life which