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And the two friends told each other of their doings, the one of

his hussar revels and life in the fighting line, the other of the

pleasures and advantages of service under members of the Imperial

family.

"Oh, you Guards!" said Rostov. "I say, send for some wine."

Boris made a grimace.

"If you really want it," said he.

He went to his bed, drew a purse from under the clean pillow, and

sent for wine.

"Yes, and I have some money and a letter to give you," he added.

Rostov took the letter and, throwing the money on the sofa, put

both arms on the table and began to read. After reading a few

lines, he glanced angrily at Berg, then, meeting his eyes, hid

his face behind the letter.

"Well, they've sent you a tidy sum," said Berg, eying the heavy

purse that sank into the sofa. "As for us, Count, we get along on

our pay. I can tell you for myself..."