“Two months I remained under arrest,” he continued, “absolutely alone; and what thoughts did I not have during that time?  But, you know, when it was all over, as though every tie had been broken with the past, then it became easier for me.  Mon pere,—­you have heard tell of him, of course, a man of iron will and strong convictions,—­il m’a desherite, and broken off all intercourse with me.  According to his convictions he had to do as he did, and I don’t blame him at all.  He was consistent.  Consequently, I have not taken a step to induce him to change his mind.  My sister was abroad.  Madame D. is the only one who wrote to me when I was released, and she sent me assistance; but you understand that I could not accept it, so that I had none of those little things which make one’s position a little easier, you know,—­books, linen, food, nothing at all.  At this time I thought things over and over, and began to look at life with different eyes.  For instance, this noise, this society gossip about me in Petersburg, did not interest me, did not flatter me; it all seemed to me ridiculous.  I felt that I myself had been to blame; I was young and indiscreet; I had spoiled my career, and I only thought how I might get into the right track again.  And I felt that I had strength and energy enough for it.  After my arrest, as I told you, I was sent here to the Caucasus to the N. regiment.

“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. [Footnote:  On me verra au feu.] 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 desenchantement!  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.