and brutes to their men, as, for instance, Osadchi and Company, who with impunity knock out the teeth and eyes of their young recruits. Perhaps you are not aware that Artschakovski so maltreated his servant in my presence that it was all I could do to help the victim away alive. Blood splashed over the floor and walls. Well, how do you think the affair ended? You shall hear. The soldier complained to the Captain of his company; the latter sent him with a sealed order to the pay-sergeant, who, in strict obedience to his superior's orders, further belaboured with his fists the soldier's swollen and bleeding face for the space of half an hour. The same soldier complained twice at the General Inspection, but without redress." Nasanski stopped and began nervously rubbing his temples with the palm of his hand. "Wait," he went on to say. "Ah, how one's thoughts fly! Isn't it an unpleasant sensation to know that our thoughts lead us, and not we our thoughts? Well, to resume what we were talking about. Among our senior remaining officers we have also other types, for instance, Captain Plavski. On his petroleum stove he cooks his own beastly food, goes about in rags, and, out of his monthly forty-eight roubles twelve times a year, he puts twenty-five in the bank, where he has a sum of 2,000 roubles on deposit, which he lends to his brother officers at an outrageously usurious rate of interest. And you think, perhaps, that this is innate or inherited greed? Certainly not; it is only a means of filling up the soul-destroying hours of garrison service. Then we have Captain Stelikovski, a strong, able, talented man. Of what does his life consist? Oh, in seducing young, inexperienced peasant girls. Finally, our famous oddity, Lieutenant-Colonel 'Brehm.' A good-natured, kindly ass--a thoroughly good fellow, who has but one interest in life--the care of his animals. What to him signify the service, the colours, the parades, censures of his superiors, or the honour of the warrior? Less than nothing." "'Brehm' is a fine fellow. I like him," interrupted Romashov. "He certainly is that, my friend," Nasanski admitted in a weary tone, "and yet," he went on to say with a lowering countenance, "if you knew what I once saw at the manoeuvres. After a night march we were directly afterwards to advance to attack. Both officers and men were utterly done up. 'Brehm' was in command, and ordered the buglers to sound the charge, but the latter, goodness knows why, signalled the reserve to advance. 'Brehm' repeated his order once, twice, thrice, but in vain; the result was the same. Then our excellent, kind-hearted 'Brehm' gallops up to the unsuspecting bugler, and bangs his fist, with all his force, against the bell of the trumpet. I saw with my own eyes the trumpeter spitting out blood and broken teeth." "Oh, my God!" groaned Romashov in disgust.