abolition of this barbarous custom.

But in those days no one ever doubted of the necessity for torture,
neither the judges nor the accused themselves. That is why the
Commandant's order did not arouse any surprise or emotion among us. Iwán
Ignatiitch went off to seek the Bashkir, who was under lock and key in
the Commandant's barn, and a few minutes later he was brought into the
ante-room. The Commandant ordered him to be brought before him.

The Bashkir crossed the sill with difficulty, owing to the wooden
shackles he had on his feet. I glanced at him and involuntarily
shuddered.

He lifted his high cap and remained near the door. I shall never forget
that man; he seemed to be at least seventy years old, and he had neither
nose nor ears. His head was shaven, and his beard consisted of a few
grey hairs. He was little of stature, thin and bent; but his Tartar eyes
still sparkled.

"Eh! eh!" said the Commandant, who recognized by these terrible marks
one of the rebels punished in 1741, "you are an old wolf, by what I see.
You have already been caught in our traps. 'Tis not the first time you
have rebelled, since you have been so well cropped. Come near and tell
me who sent you."

The old Bashkir remained silent, and looked at the Commandant with a
look of complete idiocy.

"Well, why don't you speak?" continued Iván Kouzmitch. "Don't you
understand Russ? Joulaï, ask him in your language who sent him to our