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Chapter 8

           

           “Buttheydon’tunderstandourtalkatall,”saidthedancerwithapuzzledsmile.“Iaskedhimwhosesubjecthewas,andhejabberedinhisownway.Aqueerlot!”

           “Butit’sstrange,friends,”continuedthemanwhohadwonderedattheirwhiteness,“thepeasantsatMozháyskweresayingthatwhentheybeganburyingthedead—wherethebattlewasyouknow—well,thosedeadhadbeenlyingtherefornearlyamonth,andsaysthepeasant,‘theylieaswhiteaspaper,clean,andnotasmuchsmellasapuffofpowdersmoke.’”

           “Wasitfromthecold?”askedsomeone.

           “You’reacleverfellow!Fromthecoldindeed!Why,itwashot.Ifithadbeenfromthecold,ourswouldnothaverottedeither.‘But,’hesays,‘gouptooursandtheyareallrottenandmaggoty.So,’hesays,‘wetieourfacesupwithkerchiefsandturnourheadsawayaswedragthemoff:wecanhardlydoit.Buttheirs,’hesays,‘arewhiteaspaperandnotsomuchsmellasawhiffofgunpowder.’”

           Allweresilent.

           “Itmustbefromtheirfood,”saidthesergeantmajor.“Theyusedtogobblethesamefoodasthegentry.”

           Noonecontradictedhim.

           “ThatpeasantnearMozháyskwherethebattlewassaidthemenwereallcalledupfromtenvillagesaroundandtheycartedfortwentydaysandstilldidn’tfinishcartingthedeadaway.Andasforthewolves,hesays...”

           “Thatwasarealbattle,”saidanoldsoldier.“It’stheonlyoneworthremembering;butsincethat...it’sonlybeentormentingfolk.

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