tion,
that brings to pass a man's moral downfall? It is horrible to admit
such a thing as possible, is it not? And yet, the same man who may be
capable of one sudden immense act of heroism, may be quite incapable
of keeping up the prolonged, daily, yearly struggle with adversity
which that act may entail upon him.

'It was so with Kasghine. It was a very noble action which drove him,
an exile, from his country. Thrown upon the streets of Paris, without
friends, without money, he had not the stuff in him to stand up
against the forces that were in operation to drag him down. Which of
us can be sure that he would have that stuff? From begging for work
whereby to earn money, Kasghine fell to begging for money itself. His
pride receiving a thousand wounds, instead of being strengthened by
them, was killed. Cleanliness is a luxury, a labour; he began to
neglect his person; and, in the case of a gentleman, neglect of the
person is generally the first step towards neglect of the spirit.
Little by little he lost his civilised character, and reverted to the
primitive beast. He was feral.

'But thirty, thirty-five years ago, there were few young men in St.
Petersburg with better positions, brighter prospects, than Kasghine's.
He belonged to an excellent family; he was intelligent, good-looking,
popular; he was a Captain in a good regiment. One of his uncles had
been minister of war, and stood high in the favour of the Tsar.

'In the spring of 1847, Kasghine's regiment was ordered to Warsaw, and
garrisoned in the fortress there. Twenty Polish patriots were confined
in the casemates, awaiting execution; men of education, honourable
men, men with wives and children, condemned to be hanged because they
had conspired together--a foolish, ineffectual conspiracy--against
what they regarded as the tyranny of Russia, for the liberty of their
country. They had struck no blow, but they had written and talked; and
they were to be hanged.

'The fate of these men seemed to Kasghine very unjust, very inhuman.
It preyed upon his mind. He took it into his head to rescue them, to
contrive their escape. I do not say that this was wise or right; but
it was certainly generous. No doubt he had a period of hesitation. On
the one hand was his _consigne_ as a Russian soldier; on the other,
what he conceived to be his duty as a man. He knew that the act he
contemplated spelt ruin for himself, that it spelt death; and he had
every reason to hold life