The retired Captain Ignat Lebyadkin, at the service of the world and his friends...

if they're true ones, if they're true ones, the scoundrels." Captain Lebyadkin, a stout, fleshy man over six feet in height, with curly hair and a red face, was so extremely drunk that he could scarcely stand up before me, and articulated with difficulty.

I had seen him before, however, in the distance.
"And this one!" he roared again, noticing Kirillov, who was still standing with the lantern; he raised his fist, but let it fall again at once.
"I forgive you for your learning! Ignat Lebyadkin--high-ly ed-u-cated....
'A bomb of love with stinging smart Exploded in Ignaty's heart.
In anguish dire I weep again The arm that at Sevastopol I lost in bitter pain!' Not that I ever was at Sevastopol, or ever lost my arm, but you know what rhyme is." He pushed up to me with his ugly, tipsy face.
"He is in a hurry, he is going home!" Liputin tried to persuade him.
"He'll tell Lizaveta Nikolaevna to-morrow." "Lizaveta!" he yelled again.

"Stay, don't go! A variation: 'Among the Amazons a star, Upon her steed she flashes by, And smiles upon me from afar, The child of aris-to-cra-cy! To a Starry Amazon.' You know that's a hymn.

It's a hymn, if you're not an ass! The duffers, they don't understand! Stay!" He caught hold of my coat, though I pulled myself away with all my might.
"Tell her I'm a knight and the soul of honour, and as for that Dasha...
I'd pick her up and chuck her out....