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theirs!" thought Vronsky, and cru up the letters he thrust

them between the buttons of his coat so as to read them carefully

on the road In the porch of the hut he was iment and one of another

Vronsky's quarters were always aplace for all the

officers

"Where are you off to?"

"I o to Peterhof"

"Has the mare come from Tsarskoe?"

"Yes, but I've not seen her yet"

"They say Mahotin's Gladiator's la to race in this mud?" said

the other

"Here arethem come in

Before him stood the orderly with a tray of brandy and salted

cucu ive it to us yesterday," said one of those who

had coht"

"Oh, didn't we make a pretty finish!" said Petritsky "Volkov

cli us how sad he was I

said: 'Let's have music, the funeral march!' He fairly dropped

asleep on the roof over the funeral march"