"H'm! And did he write your petition, too? I suppose it was he
who discovered the flaws in the building. The beams were not
rightly put in?"

"He did! I know it for a fact! The dog! He read it aloud in
here and boasted, 'Now I have caused Petunikoff some loss!'"

"Ye--es. . . Well, then, do you want to be reconciled?"

"To be reconciled?" The soldier lowered his head and thought.
"Ah! This is a hard life!" said he, in a querulous voice,
scratching his head.

"One must learn by experience," Petunikoff reassured him,
lighting a cigarette.

"Learn . . . It is not that, my dear sir; but don't you see
there is no freedom? Don't you see what a life I lead? I live
in fear and trembling . . . I am refused the freedom so
desirable to me in my movements, and I fear this ghost of a
teacher will write about me in the papers. Sanitary inspectors
will be called for . . . fines will have to be paid . . . or else
your lodgers will set fire to the place or rob and kill me . . .
I am powerless against them. They are not the least afraid of
the police, and they like going to prison, because they get their
food for nothing there."

"But then we will have them turned out if we come to terms with
you," promised Petunikoff.