"Of course you have heard the rumour that our regiment is to be moved to garrison another town," interrupted Rafalski, in a tone as if he had only resumed a conversation just dropped. "You may well imagine my despair. How shall I manage to transport all my fishes? At least half of them will die on the journey. And this aquarium too; look at it yourself. Wholly of glass and a yard and a half long. Ah, my dear fellow" (here he suddenly sprang into a wholly different train of thought), "what an aquarium they have in Sebastopol! A cistern of continually flowing seawater, big as this room, and entirely of stone. And lighted by electricity too. You stand and gaze down on all those wonderful fishes--sturgeons, sharks, rays, sea-cocks--nay, God forgive me my sins! sea-cats, I mean. Imagine in your mind a gigantic pancake, an _arshin_[17] and a half in diameter, which moves and wags--and behind it a tail shaped like an arrow. My goodness, I stood there staring for a couple of hours--but what are you laughing at?" "I beg your pardon, but I just noticed a little white rat sitting on your shoulder." "Oh, you little rascal! Who gave you leave?" Rafalski twisted his head and produced with his lips a whistling but extraordinarily delicate sound that was remarkably like the cheeping noise of a rat. The little white, red-eyed beast, trembling all over its body, snuggled up to Rafalski's cheek, and began groping with its nose after its master's mouth and chin-tuft. "How tame your animals are, and how well they know you!" exclaimed Romashov. "Yes, they always know me well enough," replied Rafalski. After this he drew a deep sigh and sorrowfully shook his grey head. "It is unfortunate that mankind troubles itself and knows so little about animals. We have trained and tamed for our use or good pleasure the dog, the horse, and the cat, but how much do we know about the real nature and being of these animals? Now and then, of course, some professor--a marvel of learning--comes along--may the devil devour them all!--and talks a lot of antediluvian rubbish that no sensible person either understands or has the least profit from. Moreover, he gives the poor innocent beasts a number of Latin nicknames as idiotic as they are unnecessary, and to crown it all, he has the impudence to demand to be immortalized for all this tomfoolery, and pretty nearly venerated as a saint. But what can he teach us, and what does he know himself, of animals and their inner life? No! take any dog you like, live together with it for a time, side by side, and, by the study of this intelligent, reflecting creature, you will get more matter for your psychology than all the professors and teachers could dream." "But perhaps there are works of that nature, though we do not yet know them?" suggested Romashov shyly. "Books, did you say? Yes, of course, there are plenty. Just glance over there. I have a whole library of them."