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In the regiment in which I had spent my military time, there was also a lieutenant named Joseph Burda. Considering his rank, he no longer seemed too young; he might already be approaching his thirties. This circumstance in itself would have been enough to give him a certain prestige among his immediate comrades, who were almost all fluffy yellowbeaks; but he possessed other qualities that particularly distinguished him. For he was not only a very efficient, useful officer, he had also acquired a kind of higher education through all kinds of reading, which he knew how to combine very advantageously with fine, worldly manners. As a superior, he was considered strict but fair; towards his superiors, he displayed a modest, but thoroughly confident attitude; in social intercourse, he showed a somewhat measured and reserved demeanour, but was always ready to faithfully assist each individual in word and deed. No one watched over the so-called esprit de corps more strictly than he, and in everything that concerned the point of honour he proved to be of the most scrupulous sensitivity, so much so that in this respect he had more than once got into serious conflicts without being the least bit of a quarrel seeker, and had had to settle them with a sabre in his fist. As a result, he was a little feared, but also all the more respected, without becoming pretentious or haughty, although it did help to enhance the somewhat melancholy dignity of his nature.