Ivan, the coachman, who after having been executioner had become surgeon, had applied compresses of salt and water to heal up the scarred shoulders of his victim.  Gregory had remained three days in the infirmary, and during this time he had turned over in his mind every possible means of vengeance.  Then at the end of three days, being healed, he had returned to his duty, and soon everyone except he had forgotten the punishment.  If Gregory had been a real Russian, he would soon have forgotten it all; for this punishment is too familiar to the rough Muscovite for him to remember it long and with rancour.  Gregory, as we have said, had Greek blood in his veins; he dissembled and remembered.  Although Gregory was a serf, his duties had little by little brought him into greater familiarity with the general than any of the other servants.  Besides, in every country in the world barbers have great licence with those they shave; this is perhaps due to the fact that a man is instinctively more gracious to another who for ten minutes every day holds his life in his hands.  Gregory rejoiced in the immunity of his profession, and it nearly always happened that the barber’s daily operation on the general’s chin passed in conversation, of which he bore the chief part.

One day the general had to attend a review:  he sent for Gregory before daybreak, and as the barber was passing the razor as gently as possible over his master’s cheek, the conversation fell, or more likely was led, on Foedor.  The barber praised him highly, and this naturally caused his master to ask him, remembering the correction the young aide-decamp had superintended, if he could not find some fault in this model of perfection that might counterbalance so many good qualities.  Gregory replied that with the exception of pride he thought Foedor irreproachable.

“Pride?” asked the astonished general.  “That is a failing from which I should have thought him most free.”

“Perhaps I should have said ambition,” replied Gregory.

“Ambition!” said the general.  “It does not seem to me that he has given much proof of ambition in entering my service; for after his achievements in the last campaign he might easily have aspired to the honour of a place in the emperor’s household.”

“Oh yes, he is ambitious,” said Gregory, smiling.  “One man’s ambition is for high position, another’s an illustrious alliance:  the former will owe everything to himself, the latter will make a stepping-stone of his wife, then they raise their eyes higher than they should.”

“What do you mean to suggest?” said the general, beginning to see what Gregory was aiming at.

“I mean, your excellency,” replied Gregory, “there are many men who, owing to the kindness shown them by others, forget their position and aspire to a more exalted one; having already been placed so high, their heads are turned.”

“Gregory,” cried the general, “believe me, you are getting into a scrape; for you are making an accusation, and if I take any notice of it, you will have to prove your words.”