Italy.'
' It was a crime to do so! '
•· I was searched : had my papers been seized, I should have been condemned to the knout, and sent to finish my life in Siberia, where my misfortune would have no better served the cause of humanity than my silence serves it here.'
' I cannot forgive you for this resignation.'
' You forget that it has saved my life, and that my dying would have done good to nobody.'
' But you might, since your return, have again written out your narrative.'
' I could not have done it with the same exactitude : I no longer believe in my own recollections.'
' Where did you pass your two years of captivity ? '
' As soon as I reached a town where there was a superior officer, I asked permission to serve in the Russian army; this was to avoid the journey to Siberia. My request was noticed;
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and, after some delay, I was sent to Toula, where I obtained the situation of tutor in the family of the governor. I passed two years under his roof.'
' How did you live during that time ? '
' My pupil was a boy of twelve years, whom I loved, and who also became very fond of me. He told me that his father was a widower, and that he had bought, at Moscow, a female peasant, whom he had made his concubine; and that this woman rendered their household very uncomfortable.'
' What kind of man was this governor ? '
' A tyrant of the melo-dramatic order. He made dignity consist in silence. During the two y%ars that I dined at his table we never once talked together. He had a blind man for a fool, whom he caused to sing during the whole repast, and encouraged to talk before me against the French, the army, and the prisoners. I knew enough Russian to understand some of these brutal and indecent jests., of which my pupil explained to me the rest when we returned to our chamber.'
' What a want of delicacy !— and yet they praise Russian hospitality. You just spoke of cruel noblemen who aggravated the fate of the prisoners : did you fall in with any ? '
' Before reaching Toula, I made one of a small party of prisoners confided to a serjeant, an old soldier, who bebaved well to us. One evening we halted on the domains of a baron dreaded all around for his cruelty. This ruffian wished to kill ns with his own hand ; and the serjeant had difficulty in defending our lives against the patriotic rage of the old boyard.'
u These men are, indeed, sons of the servants of Ivan IV.! Am I wrong in exclaiming against their inhumanity ? Did the father of your pupil give you much money
' When I arrived under his roof, I was stript of everything : to clothe me, he generously ordered his tailor to return one of his old coats : he was not ashamed to dress the preceptor of his son in a garment which an Italian lacquey would not have put on.'
' And yet the Russians are said to be munificent.'
' Yes ; but they are shabby in the extreme in their private family arrangements. An Englishman once came to Toula. on which occasion everything was turned upside-down in the
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houses he was to visit; people were busy with their dresse= rooms were scoured, wax-lights substituted for the candles; in short, all the habits of life were changed.''
' Everything that you tell me only too well justifies my opinion: I see, sir, that, at the bottom, you think as I do: we only differ in language.'
' It must be confessed that a man becomes very indifferent after having passed two years of his life in Russia.'
' Yes, you give me a proof of it. Is this disposition general ? '
' Nearly so : one feels that tyranny is more powerful than words, and that publicity can do nothing against such facts.'
' It must still have soiA efficacy, or the Russians would not so greatly dread it. It is your culpable inertia — permit me to say so — and that of persons who think as you do, which perpetuates the blindness of Europe and the world, and leaves the field free for oppression.'
' It would be so in spite of all our books and all our exclamations. To show you that I am not alone in my opinion, I will relate to you the story of one of my companions in misfortune : he was a Frenchman. One evening, this young man reached the bivouac indisposed; he fell into a lethargy during the night, and was dragged in the morning to the pile with the other corpses. The soldiers left him for a moment to fetch some more dead, so as to place them all on the fire together. He had been thrown, clothed as he was, upon his back, his face turned towards the sky; while thus lying, he breathed, and even understood what passed around him, for consciousness had returned, but he still could not give any signs of life. A young woman, struck with the beautiful features and the touching expression of the supposed dead man's face, approached him, and discovered that he yet lived; she sought help, had him removed, nursed and finally restored the stranger. He returned to France several years after his captivity ; but he also has not written his memoirs.'
'But you, sir, an educated and independent man — why do not you write yours ? Facts of this character, well vouched, would have interested the whole world.'
;' I doubt it: the world is composed of men so occupied with themselves, that the sufferings of unknown parties little move them. Besides, I have a family, and a situation; I depend upon
