I could not make out why they insulted Scuratoff, nor why they despised those convicts who were light-hearted, as they seemed to do. I attributed the anger of the Little Russian and the others to a feeling of personal hostility, but in this I was wrong. They were vexed that Scuratoff had not that puffed-up air of false dignity with which the whole of the convict prison was impregnated. They did not, however, get annoyed with all the jokers, nor treat them all like Scuratoff. Some of them were men who would stand no nonsense, and forgive no one voluntarily or involuntarily. It was necessary to treat them with respect. There was in our band a convict of this very kind, a good-natured, lively fellow, whom I did not see in his true light until later on. He was a tall young fellow, with pleasant manners, and not without good looks. There was at the same time a very comic expression on his face. He was called the Sapper, because he had served in the Engineers. He belonged to the special section. But all the serious-minded convicts were not so particular as the Little Russian, who could not bear to see people gay. We had in our prison several men who aimed at a certain pre-eminence, either in virtue of skill at their work, of their general ingenuity, of their character, or their wit. Many of them were intelligent and energetic, and reached the point they were aiming at--pre-eminence, that is to say, and moral influence over their companions. They often hated one another, and they excited general envy. They looked upon other convicts with a dignified air, that was full of condescension; and they never quarrelled without a cause. Favourably looked upon by the administration, they in some measure directed the work, and none of them would have lowered himself so far as to quarrel with a man about his songs. All these men were very polite to me during the whole time of my imprisonment, but not at all communicative. At last we reached the bank; a little lower down was the old hulk, which we were to break up, stuck fast in the ice. On the other side of the water was the blue steppe and the sad horizon. I expected to see every one go to work at once. Nothing of the kind. Some of the convicts sat down negligently on wooden beams that were lying near the shore, and nearly all took from their pockets pouches containing native tobacco--which was sold in leaf at the market at the rate of three kopecks a pound--and short wooden pipes. They lighted them while the soldiers formed a circle around them, and began to watch us with a tired look. “Who the devil had the idea of sinking this barque?” asked one of the convicts in a loud voice, without speaking to any one in particular. “Were they very anxious, then, to have it broken up?” “The people were not afraid to give us work,” said another. “Where are all those peasants going to work?” said the first, after a short silence.