"So you're sure to be our marshal again," he said.

"It's not likely," said the marshal, looking round with a scared

expression. "I'm worn out, I'm old. If there are men younger

and more deserving than I, let them serve."

And the marshal disappeared through a side door.

The most solemn moment was at hand. They were to proceed

immediately to the election. The leaders of both parties were

reckoning white and black on their fingers.

The discussion upon Flerov had given the new party not only

Flerov's vote, but had also gained time for them, so that they

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could send to fetch three noblemen who had been rendered unable

to take part in the elections by the wiles of the other party.

Two noble gentlemen, who had a weakness for strong drink, had

been made drunk by the partisans of Snetkov, and a third had been

robbed of his uniform.

On learning this, the new party had made haste, during the

dispute about Flerov, to send some of their men in a sledge to

clothe the stripped gentleman, and to bring along one of the

intoxicated to the meeting.

"I've brought one, drenched him with water," said the landowner,

who had gone on this errand, to Sviazhsky. "He's all right?

he'll do."

"Not too drunk, he won't fall down?" said Sviazhsky, shaking his

head.

"No, he's first-rate. If only they don't give him any more

here.... I've told the waiter not to give him anything on any

account."




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