No More Learning

SERGEANT OF THE GUARDS.


My father, Andrej Petrovitch Grineff, after serving in his youth under
Count Munich,[1] had retired in 17--with the rank of senior major. Since
that time he had always lived on his estate in the district of Simbirsk,
where he married Avdotia, the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the
neighbourhood. Of the nine children born of this union I alone survived;
all my brothers and sisters died young. I had been enrolled as sergeant
in the Semenofsky regiment by favour of the major of the Guard, Prince
Banojik, our near relation. I was supposed to be away on leave till my
education was finished. At that time we were brought up in another
manner than is usual now.

From five years old I was given over to the care of the huntsman,
Saveliitch,[2] who from his steadiness and sobriety was considered
worthy of becoming my attendant. Thanks to his care, at twelve years old
I could read and write, and was considered a good judge of the points of
a greyhound. At this time, to complete my education, my father hired a
Frenchman, M. Beaupre, who was imported from Moscow at the same time as
the annual provision of wine and Provence oil. His arrival displeased
Saveliitch very much.

"It seems to me, thank heaven," murmured he, "the child was washed,
combed, and fed. What was the good of spending money and hiring a
'_moussie_,' as if there were not enough servants in the house? "

Beaupre, in his native country, had been a hairdresser, then a soldier
in Prussia, and then had come to Russia to be "_outchitel_," without
very well knowing the meaning of this word.
[3] He was a good creature,
but wonderfully absent and hare-brained. His greatest weakness was a
love of the fair sex. Neither, as he said himself, was he averse to the
bottle, that is, as we say in Russia, that his passion was drink. But,
as in our house the wine only appeared at table, and then only in
_liqueur_ glasses, and as on these occasions it somehow never came to
the turn of the "_outchitel_" to be served at all, my Beaupre soon
accustomed himself to the Russian brandy, and ended by even preferring
it to all the wines of his native country as much better for the
stomach. We became great friends, and though, according to the contract,
he had engaged himself to teach me _French, German, and all the
sciences_, he liked better learning of me to chatter Russian
indifferently. Each of us busied himself with our own affairs; our
friendship was firm, and I did not wish for a better mentor. But Fate
soon parted us, and it was through an event which I am going to relate.

The washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox, and the
one-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother with such
stories against the "_moussie_," that she, who did not at all like these
kind of jokes, in her turn complained to my father, who, a man of hasty
temperament, instantly sent for that _rascal of a Frenchman_. He was
answered humbly that the "_moussie_" was giving me a lesson. My father
ran to my room. Beaupre was sleeping on his bed the sleep of the just.
As for me, I was absorbed in a deeply interesting occupation. A map had
been procured for me from Moscow, which hung against the wall without
ever being used, and which had been tempting me for a long time from the
size and strength of its paper. I had at last resolved to make a kite of
it, and, taking advantage of Beaupre's slumbers, I had set to work.

My father came in just at the very moment when I was tying a tail to the
Cape of Good Hope.

At the sight of my geographical studies he boxed my ears sharply, sprang
forward to Beaupre's bed, and, awaking him without any consideration, he
began to assail him with reproaches.