Three circumstances had won me this young girl's furious affection. In
the first place I often took her to see her family, with whom I always
left a rouble; in the second I made her eat with me; and in the third I
had beaten her three or four times when she had tried to prevent me going
out.

In Russia beating is a matter of necessity, for words have no force
whatever. A servant, mistress, or courtezan understands nothing but the
lash. Words are altogether thrown away, but a few good strokes are
entirely efficacious. The servant, whose soul is still more enslaved than
his body, reasons somewhat as follows, after he has had a beating:

"My master has not sent me away, but beaten me; therefore he loves me,
and I ought to be attached to him."

It is the same with the Russian soldier, and in fact with everybody.
Honour stands for nothing, but with the knout and brandy one can get
anything from them except heroical enthusiasm.

Papanelopulo laughed at me when I said that as I liked my Cossack I
should endeavour to correct him with words only when he took too much
brandy.

"If you do not beat him," he said, "he will end by beating you;" and he
spoke the truth.

One day, when he was so drunk as to be unable to attend on me, I began to
scold him, and threatened him with the stick if he did not mend his ways.
As soon as he saw my cane lifted, he ran at me and got hold of it; and if