'L'arjan!' he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the
meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house
in a new Circassian coat with an officer's stripes on the
shoulders and with polished boots (quite exceptional among
Cossacks) entered the room, swaying from side to side, and
congratulated his lodger on his safe arrival.

The cornet, Elias Vasilich, was an educated Cossack. He had been
to Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he
was noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help
feeling beneath his grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation,
his self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just
the same as Daddy Eroshka. This could also be clearly seen by his
sunburnt face and his hands and his red nose. Olenin asked him to
sit down.

'Good morning. Father Elias Vasilich,' said Eroshka, rising with
(or so it seemed to Olenin) an ironically low bow.

'Good morning. Daddy. So you're here already,' said the cornet,
with a careless nod.

The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard,
skinny and lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age.
Having come to see Olenin he was evidently afraid of being taken
for an ordinary Cossack, and wanted to let Olenin feel his
importance from the first.

'That's our Egyptian Nimrod,' he remarked, addressing Olenin and