The squadron in which Nicholas Rostov served as a cadet was quartered in the German village of Salzeneck.
Denisov, who had been losing at cards all night, had not yet come home when Rostov rode back early in the morning from a foraging expedition.
Rostov patted the horse's neck and then his flank, and lingered for a moment.
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 fleissig?"* said Rostov with the same gay brotherly smile which did not leave his eager face.
Rostov waved his cap above his head like the German and ctied laughing, "Und vivat die ganze Welt!" Though neither the German cleaning his cowshed nor Rostov back with his platoon from foraging for hay had any reason for rejoicing, they looked at each other with joyful delight and brotherly love, wagged their heads in token of their mutual affection, and parted smiling, the German returning to his cowshed and Rostov going to the cottage he occupied with Denisov.
"Now for trouble!" Rostov looked out of the window and saw Denisov coming home.
"Long ago," answered Rostov, "I have already been for the hay, and have seen Fraulein Mathilde."
Then he remained silent for a while, and all at once looked cheerfully with his glittering, black eyes at Rostov.
Rostov took the money and, mechanically arranging the old and new coins in separate piles, began counting them.
Rostov thrust the purse under the pillow and shook the damp little hand which was offered him.
(Rook was a young horse Telyanin had sold to Rostov.)