He loved to tell stories about Marie Stuart, whom he called "the rogue," and his peculiar delight was the "Spanish nobleman." "Don Cæsar de Bazan was a real nobleman. Maximich! Wonderful!" There was something of the "Spanish nobleman" about himself. One day in the market-place, in front of the fire-station, three firemen were amusing themselves by beating a peasant. A crowd of people, numbering about forty persons, looked on and cheered the soldiers. Sitanov threw himself into the brawl. With swinging blows of his long arms he struck the firemen, lifted the peasant, and carried him into the crowd, crying: "Take him away!" But he remained behind himself, one against three. The yard of the fire-station was only about ten steps away; they might easily have called others to their aid and Sitanov would have been killed. But by good luck the firemen were frightened and ran away into the yard. "Dogs!" he cried after them. On Sunday the young people used to attend boxing-matches held in the Tyessni yard behind the Petropavlovski churchyard, where sledge-drivers and peasants from the adjacent villages assembled to fight with the workmen. The wagoners put up against the town an eminent boxer, a Mordovan giant with a small head, and large eyes always full of tears. Wiping away the tears with the dirty sleeve of his short _caftan_, he stood before his backers with his legs planted widely apart, and challenged good-naturedly: "Come on, then; what is the matter with you? Are you cold?" Kapendiukhin was set up against him on our side, and the Mordovan always beat him. But the bleeding, panting Cossack said: "I 'll lick that Mordovan if I die for it!" In the end, that became the one aim of his life. He even went to the length of giving up vodka, rubbed his body with snow before he went to sleep, ate a lot of meat, and to develop his muscles, crossed himself many times every evening with two pound weights. But this did not avail him at all. Then he sewed a piece of lead inside his gloves, and boasted to Sitanov: "Now we will finish the Mordovan!" Sitanov sternly warned him: "You had better throw it away, or I will give you away before the fight." Kapendiukhin did not believe him, but when the time for the fight arrived, Sitanov said abruptly to the Mordovan: "Step aside, Vassili Ivanich; I have something to say to Kapendiukhin first!" The Cossack turned purple and roared: "I have nothing to do with you; go away!" "Yes, you have!" said Sitanov, and approaching him, he looked into the Cossack's face with a compelling glance. Kapendiukhin stamped on the ground, tore the gloves from his hands, thrust them in his breast, and went quickly away from the scene of his fight. Both our side and the other were unpleasantly surprised, and a certain important personage said angrily to Sitanov: "That is quite against the rules, brother,--to bring private affairs to be settled in the world of the prize ring!"