But if it be thus interesting to observe him on duty, how delightful to associate with him in society—­a society to which every one distinguished for rank, bravery, or intellect, has free access:  here rank is forgotten, formality is banished; every one talks and acts as he pleases, simply because those only who think and act as they ought, form the society.  Alexei Petrovitch jokes with all like a comrade, and at the same time teaches like a father.  As usual, during tea, one of his adjutants read aloud; it was the account of Napoleon’s Campaign in Italy—­that poem of the Art of War, as the commander-in-chief called it.  The company, of course, expressed their wonder, their admiration, their different opinions and criticisms.  The remarks of Alexei Petrovitch were lucid, and of admirable truth.

Then began our gymnastic sports, leaping, running, leaping over the fire, and trials of strength of various kinds.  The evening and the view were both magnificent:  the camp was pitched on the side of Tarki; over it hangs the fortress of Bournaya, behind which the sun was sinking.  Sheltered by a cliff was the house of the Shamkhal, then the town on a steep declivity, surrounded by the camp, and to the east the immeasurable steppe of the Caspian sea.  Tartar Beks, Circassian Princes, Kazaks from the various rivers of gigantic Russia, hostages from different mountains, mingled with the officers.  Uniforms, tchoukhas, coats of chain-mail, were picturesquely mingled; singing and music rang through the camp, and the soldiers, with their caps jauntily cocked on one side, were walking in crowds at a distance.  The scene was delightful; it charmed by its picturesque variety and the force and freshness of military life.  Captain Bekovitch was boasting that he could strike off the head of a buffalo with one blow of a kinjal; [29] and two of those clumsy animals were immediately brought.

[Footnote 29:  It is absurd to observe the incredulity of Europeans as to the possibility of cutting off a head with the kinjal:  it is necessary to live only one week in the East to be quite convinced of the possibility of the feat.  In a practiced hand the kinjal is a substitute for the hatchet, the bayonet, and the sabre.]

Bets were laid; all were disputing and doubting.  The Captain, with a smile, seized with his left hand a huge dagger, and in an instant an immense head fell at the feet of the astonished spectators, whose surprise was instantly succeeded by a desire to do the same:  they hacked and hewed, but all in vain.  Many of the strongest men among the Russians and Asiatics made unsuccessful attempts to perform the feat, but to do this strength alone was not sufficient.  “You are children—­children!” cried the commander-in-chief:  and he rose from table, calling for his sword—­a blade which never struck twice, as he told us.  An immense heavy sabre was brought him, and Alexei Petrovitch, though confident in his strength, yet, like Ulysses