Imagine my position! There was General Polinoff and the whole Staff....

What to do?
Only three versts from the position too and already six o'clock...." Or there was another serious gentleman, whose mind was continually occupied with Russia: "It may be difficult for you, Ivan Andreievitch, to see with our eyes, but for those of us who have Russia in our hearts ...

what rest or peace can there be?
I can assure you...." He wore pince-nez and with his long pear-shaped head, shaven to the skin, his white cheeks, protruding chin and long heavy white hands he resembled nothing so much as a large fish hanging on a nail at a fishmonger's.

He worked always in a kind of cold desperate despair, his pince-nez slipping off his shiny nose, his mouth set grimly.

"What is the use ?" he seemed to say, "of helping these poor wounded soldiers when Russia is in such a desperate condition?
Tell me that!" Or there was a wild rough fellow from some town in Little Russia, a boy of the most primitive character, no manners at all and a heart of shining gold.