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When he heard this the Major rose and exploded with wrath:-

"Are you mad, Rykov? This is the Imperial service, and service is

not friendship, you idiotic old Rykov! Are you mad? Shall I

discharge rebels! In these warlike times! Ha, my Polish friends,

I'll teach you rebellion! Ha, you rascally Dobrzynski gentlemen;

O, I know you-let the rascals soak!" (And he guffawed, as he

looked out of the window.) "Why, that same Dobrzynski who is

sitting with his coat on-hey, take off his coat!-last year at the

masked ball started that squabble with me. Who began it? He-not

I. I was dancing, and he yelled, 'Turn the scoundrel out!' Since

I was just then under investigation for stealing from the

regimental treasury, I was much embarrassed; but what business

was it of his? I was dancing the mazurka, and he shouted from

behind, 'Scoundrel!' The gentry after him cried 'Hurrah!' They

insulted me. Well? The beggarly gentleman has fallen into my

claws.