“What does that mean?” said he, “that must be a Russian proverb.”
“It means,” said I, with an air of innocence, “to treat a person mildly, to give one liberty.”
“Hum!” said he, reading, “‘and give him no liberty.’ No,” he continued, “your proverb does not mean liberty. Well, my son,” said he, having finished the letter, “every thing shall be done for you. You shall be an officer in the —— regiment, and not to lose time, go tomorrow to the fort of Belogorsk, where you will serve under Captain Mironoff, a brave and honest man. There you will see service and learn discipline. You have nothing to do here at Orenbourg, and amusements are dangerous to a young man. Today I invite you to dine with me.”
From bad to worse, thought I. What was the use of being a Sergeant in the Guards almost from my mother’s womb? To what has it led? To the regiment of ——, and an abandoned fortress on the frontier of the steppes!
I dined at the General’s in company with his old Aid-de-camp. Severe German economy reigned at table, and I think the fear of having an occasional guest the more had something to do with sending me to a distant garrison.
The next day I took my leave of the General and set out for Belogorsk.
III. THE FORTRESS.
The fortress of Belogorsk is situated forty versts from Orenbourg. The route from this city is along the high banks of the river Iaik. The stream was not yet frozen, and its lead-colored waters took a black tint between banks whitened by the snow. Before me lay the Kirghis steppes. I fell into a moody train of thought, for to me garrison life offered few attractions. I tried to picture my future chief, Captain Mironoff. I imagined a severe, morose old man, knowing nothing outside of the service, ready to arrest me for the least slip. Dusk was falling; we were advancing rapidly.
“How far is it from here to the fortress?” said I to the coachman.