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"Get up, don't go on sleeping," said Yashvin, going behind the

partition and giving Petritsky, who was lying with ruffled hair

and with his nose in the pillow, a prod on the shoulder.

Petritsky jumped up suddenly onto his knees and looked round.

"Your brother's been here," he said to Vronsky. "He waked me up,

damn him, and said he'd look in again." And pulling up the rug he

flung himself back on the pillow. "Oh, do shut up, Yashvin!" he

said, getting furious with Yashvin, who was pulling the rug off

him. "Shut up!" He turned over and opened his eyes. "You'd better

tell me what to drink; such a nasty taste in my mouth, that...."

"Brandy's better than anything," boomed Yashvin. "Tereshtchenko!

brandy for your master and cucumbers," he shouted, obviously

taking pleasure in the sound of his own voice.