By the end of the third day of their journey, they can see the lights of Minsk shimmering in the distance. Nonetheless, the garrison commander orders his troops to make camp again. Fanny is surprised to see that they are not staying in a tavern after such a long journey, with aching backs, dusty beards, sooty faces and parched throats. The soldiers’ encounter with the hard ground does nothing to improve their morale.
They eat the few vegetables they have left, courgettes mostly, and a few bitter, limp cabbages they gathered as they marched across fields. The soldiers sit apart from the three companions, and it doesn’t take long for their group to emit drunken laughter and pipe smoke. A hussar humbly approaches the Father and invites him to join them. Zizek refuses, and the soldier kisses his hand and shoves dried sausage, tobacco and crackers into the pockets of his shirt.
The nurse prepares one of the tents for their wounded friend and motions to Zizek and Fanny to stay in the other tent. Zizek, however, will not leave Adamsky, and sleeping by herself seems like a bad idea to Fanny. She looks around, uneasily, hoping to catch Zizek’s attention. His unshaven face is sunburned, his scarred mouth is drooling, and his eyes glisten in the lantern’s weak light.
“Please, Mrs Keismann,” he says, “let’s stay with them.”
Fanny sighs with relief and enters the small, cramped tent. The odours of rum and urine blend with the smell of old bandages and antiseptic. Zizek hands her a piece of cheese and breaks a cracker with his teeth for them to share. They munch their crackers, then silence falls and only the beating of their hearts remains. A strange sense of kinship seeps into Fanny’s beleaguered body, and emotion overwhelms her. Who would have believed she would make it this far?
“Zizek Breshov,” she whispers, “why did you come with me?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs Keismann,” he says at once, without looking at her, as if this sentence has been ready in his throat for a long time, “but you came to me.”
“Many people came to you, yet you obliged only me.”
“Many came?” He coughs heavily. “I’m sorry to say this, Mrs Keismann, but no-one else came. Only you.”
Before she falls asleep, he sighs and mutters, “You and him.”