The cheat we were practising could not long be concealed from our guards. Every officer had to sign his name in a book twice a day. The soldier, whose business it was to bring this book round, was bound to notice that I never signed it. He was easily pacified. The Russian state paid him seventy kopecks (about 1_s._ 6_d._) a month for his services. I bought them for a rouble a month, with occasional tips for odd jobs. He was only dangerous when in his drunken fits, which were not infrequent. Then he would burst suddenly into the class and point at me and say, “You are not an officer, you are a teacher; you are a naughty man, but I will forgive you. Come, let us shake hands.” After we had shaken hands, he would minutely examine his greasy palms to see what might be found there. Once he came in maudlin sorrow and said, “You make me very unhappy, you give my conscience no rest. I want to go to church to-night and cannot. God does not love me, God will be very angry with me--unless you give me twenty-five roubles at once.” “Well,” I said, “how about twenty-five kopecks?” His purple face lighted up with joy and he was again my friend. He was not always to be bought, however. One night he came storming into our rooms, more drunk than usual. He called us to get up (it was about two o’clock) and said he would take us into the town on the spree. Then he caught sight of me, and shouted, “No, I cannot take you, you have that wicked man among you. I must go to the colonel and tell him all about it.” In his drunken frenzy he seemed quite capable of carrying out his threat, and no bribes or cajoleries of ours had any effect. At last we hit upon the expedient of treating him as his own officers did, and bullied him hard. We beat his soft will to pulp, and before long, trembling with fear, he began to fall on his knees and kiss our hands, begging us to overlook his offence. [SN: WITH THE DOCTORS]