BOOK FOURTEEN: 1812
10. CHAPTER X
 (continued)
"Why, this gentleman's saber." 
"That's right," said the man, whom Petya took to be an hussar.
 "Was the cup left here?" 
"There, by the wheel!" 
The hussar took the cup. 
"It must be daylight soon," said he, yawning, and went away. 
Petya ought to have known that he was in a forest with Denisov's
 guerrilla band, less than a mile from the road, sitting on a wagon
 captured from the French beside which horses were tethered, that under
 it Likhachev was sitting sharpening a saber for him, that the big dark
 blotch to the right was the watchman's hut, and the red blotch below
 to the left was the dying embers of a campfire, that the man who had
 come for the cup was an hussar who wanted a drink; but he neither knew
 nor waited to know anything of all this. He was in a fairy kingdom
 where nothing resembled reality. The big dark blotch might really be
 the watchman's hut or it might be a cavern leading to the very
 depths of the earth. Perhaps the red spot was a fire, or it might be
 the eye of an enormous monster. Perhaps he was really sitting on a
 wagon, but it might very well be that he was not sitting on a wagon
 but on a terribly high tower from which, if he fell, he would have
 to fall for a whole day or a whole month, or go on falling and never
 reach the bottom. Perhaps it was just the Cossack, Likhachev, who
 was sitting under the wagon, but it might be the kindest, bravest,
 most wonderful, most splendid man in the world, whom no one knew of.
 It might really have been that the hussar came for water and went back
 into the hollow, but perhaps he had simply vanished- disappeared
 altogether and dissolved into nothingness. 
Nothing Petya could have seen now would have surprised him. He was
 in a fairy kingdom where everything was possible. 
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