for the regulation work, of course). He knew no sort of trade and he scarcely ever had any money. But he did not grieve much over the lack of it. And what did he talk to me about? His conversation was as strange as himself. He would see, for instance, that I was walking alone behind the prison and would turn abruptly in my direction. He always walked quickly and turned abruptly.
He walked up, yet it seemed he must have been running.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“I am not interrupting you?”
“No.”
“I wanted to ask you about Napoleon. He is a relation of the one who was here in 1812, isn’t he?” (Petrov was a kantonist and could read and write.)
“Yes.”
“He is some sort of president, they say, isn’t he?”
He always asked rapid, abrupt questions, as though he were in a hurry to learn something. It seemed as though he were investigating some matter of great importance which would not admit of any delay.
I explained how he was a president and added that he might soon be an emperor.
“How is that?”
I explained that too, as far as I could. Petrov listened attentively, understanding perfectly and reflecting rapidly, even turning his ear towards me.
“H’m . . . I wanted to ask you, Alexandr Petrovitch: is it true, as they say, that there are monkeys with arms down to their heels and as big as a tall man?”
“Yes, there are.”
“What are they like?”
That, too, I explained as far as I was able.
“And where do they live?”
“In hot countries. There are some in the island of Sumatra.”
“That’s in America, isn’t it? Don’t they say that the people in those parts walk on their heads?”
“Not on their heads. You mean the Antipodes.”
I explained what America was like and what was meant by the Antipodes. He listened as attentively as though he had come simply to hear about the Antipodes.
“A-ah! Last year I read about the Countess La Vallière.
