The Council of War began to assemble at two in the afternoon in the better and roomier part of Andrew Savostyánov’s hut. The men, women, and children of the large peasant family crowded into the back room across the passage. Only Malásha, Andrew’s six-year-old granddaughter whom his Serene Highness had petted and to whom he had given a lump of sugar while drinking his tea, remained on the top of the brick oven in the larger room. Malásha looked down from the oven with shy delight at the faces, uniforms, and decorations of the generals, who one after another came into the