ture. No man knows so well
how to distinguish merit by a single glance, a single smile--to
reward gallantry with a word, coming _from_, and going _to_, the
heart. God grant us many years to serve with such a commander!

[Footnote 28: Literally, a person possessing rank, used here to
signify an _employe_ of Government in a civil capacity--all of whom
possess some definite precedence or class (tchin) in the state. ]

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 necessar