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Another hussar also rushed toward the horse, but Bondarenko had

already thrown the reins of the snaffle bridle over the horse's

head. It was evident that the cadet was liberal with his tips and

that it paid to serve him. Rostov patted the horse's neck and

then his flank, and lingered for a moment.

"Splendid! What a horse he will be!" he thought with a smile, and

holding up his saber, his spurs jingling, he ran up the steps of

the porch. His landlord, who in a waistcoat and a pointed cap,

pitchfork in hand, was clearing manure from the cowhouse, looked

out, and his face immediately brightened on seeing Rostov. "Schon

gut Morgen! Schon gut Morgen!" * he said winking with a merry

smile, evidently pleased to greet the young man.

* "A very good morning! A very good morning!"