I walked on with the others. I had become a little animated, for I wanted to see and know in what this field labour consisted, to what sort of work I was condemned, and how I should do it for the first time in my life. I remember the smallest particulars. We met, as we were walking along, a townsman with a long beard, who stopped and slipped his hand into his pocket. A prisoner left our party, took off his cap and received alms--to the extent of five kopecks--then came back hurriedly towards us. The townsman made the sign of the cross and went his way. The five kopecks were spent the same morning in buying cakes of white bread which were shared equally among us. In my squad some were gloomy and taciturn, others indifferent and indolent. There were some who talked in an idle manner. One of these men was extremely gay, heaven knows why. He sang and danced as we went along, shaking and ringing his chains at each step. This fat and corpulent convict was the very one who, on the very day of my arrival during the general washing, had a quarrel with one of his companions about the water, and had ventured to compare him to some sort of bird. His name was Scuratoff. He finished by shouting out a lively song of which I remember the burden: They married me without my consent, When I was at the mill. Nothing was wanting but a balalaika [the Russian banjo]. His extraordinary good-humour was justly reproved by several of the prisoners, who were offended by it. “Listen to his hallooing,” said one of the convicts, “though it doesn’t become him.” “The wolf has but one song; this Tuliak [inhabitant of Tula] is stealing it from him,” said another, who could be recognised by his accent as a Little Russian. “Of course I am from Tula,” replied Scuratoff; “but we don’t stuff ourselves to bursting as you do in your Pultava.” “Liar! what did you eat yourself? Bark shoes and cabbage soup?” “You talk as if the devil fed you on sweet almonds,” broke in a third. “I admit, my friend, that I am an effeminate man,” said Scuratoff with a gentle sigh, as though he were really reproaching himself for his effeminacy. “From my most tender infancy I was brought up in luxury, fed on plums and delicate cakes. My brothers even now have a large business at Moscow. They are wholesale dealers in the wind that blows; immensely rich men, as you may imagine.” “And what did you sell?” “I was very successful, and when I received my first two hundred----” “Roubles? impossible!” interrupted one of the prisoners, struck with amazement at hearing of so large a sum. “No, my good fellow, not two hundred roubles, two hundred blows of the stick. Luka; I say Luka!” “Some have the right to call me Luka, but for you I am Luka Kouzmitch,” replied rather ill-temperedly a small, feeble convict with a pointed nose.