ness. She is enchanting,
but uneducated, wild, and rough. In the long winter evenings he begins
her education. She is clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the
knowledge essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign
languages, read the French masterpieces and understand them: Notre Dame
de Paris, for instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak
French. In a drawing-room she can show more innate dignity than a lady
of the highest society. She can sing, simply, powerfully, and
passionately.... 'Oh, what nonsense!' said he to himself. But here they
reached a post-station and he had to change into another sledge and
give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for the 'nonsense'
he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, glory, and his return
to Russia with an appointment as aide-de-camp and a lovely wife rose
before his imagination. 'But there's no such thing as love,' said he to
himself. 'Fame is all rubbish. But the six hundred and seventy-eight
rubles? ... And the conquered land that will bring me more wealth than
I need for a lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all that
wealth for myself. I shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well,
six hundred and seventy-eight rubles to Cappele and then we'll see.'
... Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanyusha's voice
and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy youthful
slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another sledge at the next
stage and continues his journey.

Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of
post-stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horses' cruppers, the
same short talks with Vanyusha, the same vague dreams and drowsiness,
and the same tired, healthy, youthful sleep at night.

Chapter III

The farther Olenin travelled from Central Russia the farther he left
his memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighter
his heart became. "I'll stay away for good and never return to show
myself in society," was a thought that sometimes occurred to him.
"These people whom I see here are NOT people. None of them know me and
none of them can ever enter the Moscow society I was in or find out
about my past. And no one in that society will ever know what I am
doing, living among these people." And quite a new feeling of freedom
from his whole past came over him among the rough beings he met on the
road whom he did not consider to be PEOPLE i