""...You're less of a judge of such matters, Mishka, than a calf is of swill. But I know what's what where liquor's concerned. The liquors and wines I've come to drink in my time! There's wine which foams out of the bottle like out of a mad dog almost before you've pulled the cork - God knows I'm not lying. In Poland, when we broke through the front and rode with Budionny to shake up the Poles, we took a certain estate by storm. <…> When our troop dashed into the estate on horseback there were officers feasting with the masterr — they weren't expecting us. We sabred them all in the orchard and on the stairs, but we took one prisoner. <…> Well, we went into the downstairs rooms and there was a huge table with all kinds of eats on it! Lovely sight it was… <…> Ay, we stuffed ourselves and drank that foaming wine till it we were stuffed up to our eyes. <…> We tugged at a cork and it flew out as though shot from a gun, and the froth boiled up in a great cloud. That wine made me fall off my horse three times that night. The moment I climbed into my saddle I was sent flying again as though blown clean off by the wind. Now if only I could always drink wine like that, a glass or two on an empty stomach, I'd live to be a hundred. But as things are, is anyone likely to live out his time? Do you call this drink, for instance? It's an infection, not a drink! It's enough to make you turn up your toes before your time!" With a nod Prokhor indicated the ewer of vodka and poured himself out another glass full to the brim."