His long white face was always a dirty shade of grey and his jacket was stained with reminiscences of his meals.

His habits at table were terrible; he was always so deeply interested in what he was saying that he had not time to close his mouth whilst he was eating, to ask people to pass him food (he stretched his long dirty hand across the table) or to pass food to others.

He shouted a great deal and was in a furious passion every five minutes.

I also just at this time found the boy Goga tiresome; the boy had not been taught by his parents the duty that children owe to their elders and I am inclined to believe that this duty is almost universally untaught in Russia.

To Goga a General was as nothing, he would contradict our old white-haired General T----, when he came to dine with us, would patronise the Colonel and assure the General's aide-de-camp that he knew better.