commanding officer, was a brutal fellow, uniting the vices of a barbarian with those of an upstart. A peasant by birth, he had risen to the rank of Praporszczyk, or ensign, by an advantageous marriage which he had made with the coachman's daughter of the Procurator-General. The good fortune of being a Praporszczyk seemed to him so unexpected, so inconceivable, so much above all his expectations, that to convince himself that it was not an illusion or a dream, he exercised continually the privileges of his rank, which consisted in having the power to flog his poor soldiers at his pleasure. Hardly a single day elapsed without my seeing these horrible punishments; they took place before the casemates, opposite my window: they stripped the poor fellow of his uniform, and whilst the Praporszczyk held his watch in his hand, a serjeant and a corporal struck him in turn, with sticks as thick as a man's finger. Often the shirt of the unfortunate delinquent was saturated with blood. Oppressed with grief, I turned my eyes and left the window,
