"I thought," he went on to say, all the time becoming more and more animated,--"I thought that here in the Caucasus, _la vie de camp,_ the simple, honest men with whom I should associate, and war and danger, would all admirably agree with my mental state, so that I might begin a new life. They will see me under fire.[12] I shall make myself liked; I shall be respected for my real self,--the cross--non-commissioned officer; they will relieve me of my fine; and I shall get up again, _et vous savez avec ce prestige du malheur!_ But, _quel désenchantement!_ You can't imagine how I have been deceived! You know what sort of men the officers of our regiment are." He did not speak for some little time, waiting, as it appeared, for me to tell him that I knew the society of our officers here was bad; but I made him no reply. It went against my grain that he should expect me, because I knew French, forsooth, to be obliged to take issue with the society of the officers, which, during my long residence in the Caucasus, I had had time enough to appreciate fully, and for which I had far higher respect than for the society from which Mr. Guskof had sprung. I wanted to tell him so, but his position constrained me. "In the N. regiment the society of the officers is a thousand times worse than it is here," he continued. "I hope that it is saying a good deal; _j'espère que c'est beaucoup dire;_ that is, you cannot imagine what it is. I am not speaking of the yunkers and the soldiers, That is horrible, it is so bad. At first they received me very kindly, that is absolutely the truth; but when they saw that I could not help despising them, you know, in these inconceivably small circumstances, they saw that I was a man absolutely different, standing far above them, they got angry with me, and began to put various little humiliations on me. You haven't an idea what I had to suffer.[13] Then this forced relationship with the yunkers, and especially with the small means that I had--I lacked every thing;[14] I had only what my sister used to send me. And here's a proof for you! As much as it made me suffer, I with my character, _avec ma fierté, j'ai écris à mon père,_ begged him to send me something. I understand how living four years of such a life may make a man like our cashiered Dromof who drinks with soldiers, and writes notes to all the officers asking them to _loan_ him three rubles, and signing it, _tout à vous, Dromof._ One must have such a character as I have, not to be mired in the least by such a horrible position." For some time he walked in silence by my side. "Have you a cigarette?"[15] he asked me.