The Death of Ivan Ilyich and Other Stories

by Leo Tolstoy

"And what have you to see there?" said the captain, still trying to dissuade me. "If you want to learn how battles are fought, read Mikhailovski Danilevski's 'Description of War,' a charming book; there it's all admirably described,—where every corps stands, and how battles are fought." "On the contrary, that does not interest me," I replied. "Well, now, how is this? It simply means that you want to see how men kill each other, doesn't it? . . . Here in 1832 there was a man like yourself, not in the regular service,—a Spaniard, I think he was. He went on two expeditions with us, . . . in a blue mantle or something of the sort, and so the young fellow was killed. Here, bátiushka, one is not surprised at any thing." Ashamed as I was at the captain's manifest disapprobation of my project, I did not attempt to argue him down. "Well, he was brave, wasn't he?" "God knows as to that. He always used to ride at the front. Wherever there was firing, there he was." "So he must have been brave, then," said I. "No, that doesn't signify bravery,—his putting himself where he wasn't called." "What do you call bravery, then?" "Bravery, bravery?" repeated the captain with the expression of a man to whom such a question presents itself for the first time. "A brave man is one who conducts himself as he ought," said he after a brief consideration.