'No, my old one is sweeter,' shouted the Cossack, kissing the
struggling old woman.

'You'll throttle me,' she screamed, laughing.

The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street
interrupted their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with
their muskets on their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve
guard by the ammunition wagon.

The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks
and led his men straight along the road where Lukashka and Nazarka
were standing, so that they should have to get out of the way.
Nazarka moved, but Lukashka only screwed up his eyes and turned
his broad back without moving from his place.

'People are standing here, so you go round,' he muttered, half
turning his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of
the soldiers.

The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along
the dusty road.

Maryanka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in.

'What swells!' said Nazarka, 'Just like long-skirted choristers,'
and he walked a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers.

Again everyone broke into peals of laughter.