The manifesto was written in crude but forceful language, and must have produced a strong impression upon the minds of simple people.

“The rascal!” cried Vasilisa Yegorovna. “To think of his daring to make us such offers! We are to go and meet him and lay the banners at his feet! Ah, the dog! Doesn’t he know that we’ve been forty years in the army and have seen a thing or two? Surely no commanders have listened to the brigand?”

“I should not have thought so,” Ivan Kuzmich answered, “but it appears the villain has already taken many fortresses.”

“He must really be strong, then,” Shvabrin remarked.

“We are just going to find out his real strength,” said the Commandant. “Vasilisa Yegorovna, give me the key of the storehouse. Ivan Ignatyich, bring the Bashkir and tell Yulay to bring the whip.”

“Wait, Ivan Kuzmich,” said the Commandant’s wife, getting up. “Let me take Masha out of the house; she will be terrified if she hears the screams. And, to tell the truth, I don’t care for the business myself. Good luck to you.”

In the old days torture formed so integral a part of judicial procedure that the beneficent law which abolished it long remained a dead letter. It used to be thought that the criminal’s own confession was necessary for convicting him, which is both groundless and wholly opposed to judicial good sense; for if the accused person’s denial of the charge is not considered a proof of his innocence, there is still less reason to regard his confession a proof of his guilt. Even now I sometimes hear old judges regretting the abolition of the barbarous custom. But in those days no one doubted the necessity of torture—neither the judges nor the accused. And so the Commandant’s order did not surprise or alarm us. Ivan Ignatyich went to fetch the Bashkir, who was locked up in Vasilisa Yegorovna’s storehouse, and a few minutes later the prisoner was led into the entry. The Commandant gave word for him to be brought into the room.

The Bashkir crossed the threshold with difficulty (he was wearing fetters) and, taking off his tall cap, stood by the door. I glanced at him and shuddered. I shall never forget that man. He seemed to be over seventy. He had neither nose nor ears. His head was shaven; instead of a beard, a few gray hairs stuck out; he was small, thin and bent, but his narrow eyes still had a gleam in them.

“Aha!” said the Commandant, recognizing by the terrible marks one of the rebels punished in 1741. “I see you are an old wolf and have been in our snares. Rebelling must be an old game to you, to judge by the look of your head. Come nearer; tell me, who sent you?”

The old Bashkir was silent and gazed at the Commandant with an utterly senseless expression.

“Why don’t you speak?” Ivan Kuzmich continued. “Don’t you understand Russian? Yulay, ask him in your language who sent him to our fortress?”

Yulay repeated Ivan Kuzmich’s question in Tatar. But the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression and did not answer a word.

“Very well!” the Commandant said. “I will make you speak! Lads, take off his stupid striped gown and streak his back. Mind you do it thoroughly, Yulay!”

Two veterans began undressing the Bashkir. The unfortunate man’s face expressed anxiety. He looked about him like some wild creature caught by children. But when the old man was made to put his hands round the veteran’s neck and was lifted off the ground and Yulay brandished the whip, the Bashkir groaned in a weak, imploring voice, and, nodding his head, opened his mouth in which a short stump could be seen instead of a tongue.

When I recall that this happened in my lifetime and that now I have lived to see the gentle reign of the Emperor Alexander, I cannot but marvel at the rapid progress of enlightenment and the diffusion of humane principles. Young man! If my notes ever fall into your hands, remember that the best and most permanent changes are those due to the softening of manners and morals and not to any violent upheavals.

It was a shock to all of us.

“Well,” said the Commandant, “we evidently cannot learn much from him. Yulay, take the Bashkir back to the storehouse.