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Title: The Daughter of the Commandant

Author: Alexksandr Sergeevich Pushkin

Release Date: September 22, 2004  [eBook #13511]
[Date last updated: September 13, 2006]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


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THE DAUGHTER OF THE COMMANDANT

A Russian Romance

by

ALEXKSANDR POUSHKIN

Translated by Mrs. Milne Home

Authoress of "Mamma's Black Nurse Stories," "West Indian Folklore"







PREFACE.


ALEXKSANDR POUSHKIN, the Poet, was born at Petersburg in 1799 of good
family, and died before he was forty, in the prime of his genius. The
novel here offered to the public is considered by Russians his best
prose work. Others are _Boris Godunof_, a dramatic sketch, but never
intended to be put on the stage, and _The Prisoner of the Caucasus_.
Among his poems are "The Gipsies," "Ruslan and Ludmilla," "The Fountain
of Tears," and "Evgeni Oneghin." The last, if I mistake not, was
translated into English some years ago. Some of Poushkin's writings
having drawn suspicion on him he was banished to a distant part of the
Empire, where he filled sundry administrative posts. The Tzar Nicholai,
on his accession in 1825, recalled him to Petersburg and made him
Historiographer. The works of the poet were much admired in society, but
he was not happy in his domestic life. His outspoken language made him
many enemies, and disgraceful reports were purposely spread abroad
concerning him, which resulted in a duel in which he was mortally
wounded by his brother-in-law, George Danthes. His death was mourned
publicly by all Russia.

M.P.M.H.

April, 1891.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER

I.    Sergeant of the Guards
II.   The Guide
III.  The Little Fort
IV.   The Duel
V.    Love
VI.   Pugatchef
VII.  The Assault
VIII. The Unexpected Visit
IX.   The Parting
X.    The Siege
XI.   The Rebel Camp
XII.  The Orphan
XIII. The Arrest
XIV.  The Trial




CHAPTER I.

SERGEANT OF THE GUARDS.


My father, Andrej Petrovitch Grineff, after serving in his youth under
Count Muenich,[1] had retired in 17--with the rank of senior major. Since
that time he had always lived on his estate in the district of Simbirsk,
where he married Avdotia, the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the
neighbourhood. Of the nine children born of this union I alone survived;
all my brothers and sisters died young. I had been enrolled as sergeant
in the Semenofsky regiment by favour of the major of the Guard, Prince
Banojik, our near relation. I was supposed to be away on leave till my
education was finished. At that time we were brought up in another
manner than is usual now.

From five years old I was given over to the care of the huntsman,
Saveliitch,[2] who from his steadiness and sobriety was considered
worthy of becoming my attendant. Thanks to his care, at twelve years old
I could read and write, and was considered a good judge of the points of
a greyhound. At this time, to complete my education, my father hired a
Frenchman, M. Beaupre, who was imported from Moscow at the same time as
the annual provision of wine and Provence oil. His arrival displeased
Saveliitch very much.

"It seems to me, thank heaven," murmured he, "the child was washed,
combed, and fed. What was the good of spending money and hiring a
'_moussie_,' as if there were not enough servants in the house?"

Beaupre, in his native country, had been a hairdresser, then a soldier
in Prussia, and then had come to Russia to be "_outchitel_," without
very well knowing the meaning of this word.[3] He was a good creature,
but wonderfully absent and hare-brained. His greatest weakness was a
love of the fair sex. Neither, as he said himself, was he averse to the
bottle, that is, as we say in Russia, that his passion was drink. But,
as in our house the wine only appeared at table, and then only in
_liqueur_ glasses, and as on these occasions it somehow never came to
the turn of the "_outchitel_" to be served at all, my Beaupre soon
accustomed himself to the Russian brandy, and ended by even preferring
it to all the wines of his native country as much better for the
stomach. We became great friends, and though, according to the contract,
he had engaged himself to teach me _French, German, and all the
sciences_, he liked better learning of me to chatter Russian
indifferently. Each of us busied himself with our own affairs; our
friendship was firm, and I did not wish for a better mentor. But Fate
soon parted us, and it was through an event which I am going to relate.

The washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox, and the
one-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother with such
stories against the "_moussie_," that she, who did not at all like these
kind of jokes, in her turn complained to my father, who, a man of hasty
temperament, instantly sent for that _rascal of a Frenchman_. He was
answered humbly that the "_moussie_" was giving me a lesson. My father
ran to my room. Beaupre was sleeping on his bed the sleep of the just.
As for me, I was absorbed in a deeply interesting occupation. A map had
been procured for me from Moscow, which hung against the wall without
ever being used, and which had been tempting me for a long time from the
size and strength of its paper. I had at last resolved to make a kite of
it, and, taking advantage of Beaupre's slumbers, I had set to work.

My father came in just at the very moment when I was tying a tail to the
Cape of Good Hope.

At the sight of my geographical studies he boxed my ears sharply, sprang
forward to Beaupre's bed, and, awaking him without any consideration, he
began to assail him with reproaches. In his trouble and confusion
Beaupre vainly strove to rise; the poor "_outchitel_" was dead drunk.
My father pulled him up by the collar of his coat, kicked him out of the
room, and dismissed him the same day, to the inexpressible joy of
Saveliitch.

Thus was my education finished.

I lived like a stay-at-home son (_nedoross'l_),[4] amusing myself by
scaring the pigeons on the roofs, and playing leapfrog with the lads of
the courtyard,[5] till I was past the age of sixteen. But at this age my
life underwent a great change.

One autumn day, my mother was making honey jam in her parlour, while,
licking my lips, I was watching the operations, and occasionally tasting
the boiling liquid. My father, seated by the window, had just opened the
_Court Almanack_, which he received every year. He was very fond of
this book; he never read it except with great attention, and it had the
power of upsetting his temper very much. My mother, who knew all his
whims and habits by heart, generally tried to keep the unlucky book
hidden, so that sometimes whole months passed without the _Court
Almanack_ falling beneath his eye. On the other hand, when he did chance
to find it, he never left it for hours together. He was now reading it,
frequently shrugging his shoulders, and muttering, half aloud--

"General! He was sergeant in my company. Knight of the Orders of Russia!
Was it so long ago that we--"

At last my father threw the _Almanack_ away from him on the sofa, and
remained deep in a brown study, which never betokened anything good.

"Avdotia Vassilieva,"[6] said he, sharply addressing my mother, "how
old is Petrousha?"[7]

"His seventeenth year has just begun," replied my mother. "Petrousha was
born the same year our Aunt Anastasia Garasimofna[8] lost an eye, and
that--"

"All right," resumed my father; "it is time he should serve. 'Tis time
he should cease running in and out of the maids' rooms and climbing into
the dovecote."

The thought of a coming separation made such an impression on my mother
that she dropped her spoon into her saucepan, and her eyes filled with
tears. As for me, it is difficult to express the joy which took
possession of me. The idea of service was mingled in my mind with the
liberty and pleasures offered by the town of Petersburg. I already saw
myself officer of the Guard, which was, in my opinion, the height of
human happiness.

My father neither liked to change his plans, nor to defer the execution
of them. The day of my departure was at once fixed. The evening before
my father told me that he was going to give me a letter for my future
superior officer, and bid me bring him pen and paper.

"Don't forget, Andrej Petrovitch," said my mother, "to remember me to
Prince Banojik; tell him I hope he will do all he can for my Petrousha."

"What nonsense!" cried my father, frowning. "Why do you wish me to write
to Prince Banojik?"

"But you have just told us you are good enough to write to Petrousha's
superior officer."

"Well, what of that?"

"But Prince Banojik is Petrousha's superior officer. You know very well
he is on the roll of the Semenofsky regiment."

"On the roll! What is it to me whether he be on the roll or no?
Petrousha shall not go to Petersburg! What would he learn there? To
spend money and commit follies. No, he shall serve with the army, he
shall smell powder, he shall become a soldier and not an idler of the
Guard, he shall wear out the straps of his knapsack. Where is his
commission? Give it to me."

My mother went to find my commission, which she kept in a box with my
christening clothes, and gave it to my father with, a trembling hand. My
father read it with attention, laid it before him on the table, and
began his letter.

Curiosity pricked me.

"Where shall I be sent," thought I, "if not to Petersburg?"

I never took my eyes off my father's pen as it travelled slowly over the
paper. At last he finished his letter, put it with my commission into
the same cover, took off his spectacles, called me, and said--

"This letter is addressed to Andrej Karlovitch R., my old friend and
comrade. You are to go to Orenburg[9] to serve under him."

All my brilliant expectations and high hopes vanished. Instead of the
gay and lively life of Petersburg, I was doomed to a dull life in a far
and wild country. Military service, which a moment before I thought
would be delightful, now seemed horrible to me. But there was nothing
for it but resignation. On the morning of the following day a travelling
_kibitka_ stood before the hall door. There were packed in it a trunk
and a box containing a tea service, and some napkins tied up full of
rolls and little cakes, the last I should get of home pampering.

My parents gave me their blessing, and my father said to me--

"Good-bye, Petr'; serve faithfully he to whom you have sworn fidelity;
obey your superiors; do not seek for favours; do not struggle after
active service, but do not refuse it either, and remember the proverb,
'Take care of your coat while it is new, and of your honour while it is
young.'"

My mother tearfully begged me not to neglect my health, and bade
Saveliitch take great care of the darling. I was dressed in a short
"_touloup_"[10] of hareskin, and over it a thick pelisse of foxskin. I
seated myself in the _kibitka_ with Saveliitch, and started for my
destination, crying bitterly.

I arrived at Simbirsk during the night, where I was to stay twenty-four
hours, that Saveliitch might do sundry commissions entrusted to him. I
remained at an inn, while Saveliitch went out to get what he wanted.
Tired of looking out at the windows upon a dirty lane, I began wandering
about the rooms of the inn. I went into the billiard room. I found there
a tall gentleman, about forty years of age, with long, black
moustachios, in a dressing-gown, a cue in his hand, and a pipe in his
mouth. He was playing with the marker, who was to have a glass of brandy
if he won, and, if he lost, was to crawl under the table on all fours. I
stayed to watch them; the longer their games lasted, the more frequent
became the all-fours performance, till at last the marker remained
entirely under the table. The gentleman addressed to him some strong
remarks, as a funeral sermon, and proposed that I should play a game
with him. I replied that I did not know how to play billiards. Probably
it seemed to him very odd. He looked at me with a sort of pity.
Nevertheless, he continued talking to me. I learnt that his name was
Ivan Ivanovitch[11] Zourine, that he commanded a troop in the ----th
Hussars, that he was recruiting just now at Simbirsk, and that he had
established himself at the same inn as myself. Zourine asked me to lunch
with him, soldier fashion, and, as we say, on what Heaven provides. I
accepted with pleasure; we sat down to table; Zourine drank a great
deal, and pressed me to drink, telling me I must get accustomed to the
service. He told good stories, which made me roar with laughter, and we
got up from table the best of friends. Then he proposed to teach me
billiards.

"It is," said he, "a necessity for soldiers like us. Suppose, for
instance, you come to a little town; what are you to do? One cannot
always find a Jew to afford one sport. In short, you must go to the inn
and play billiards, and to play you must know how to play."

These reasons completely convinced me, and with great ardour I began
taking my lesson. Zourine encouraged me loudly; he was surprised at my
rapid progress, and after a few lessons he proposed that we should play
for money, were it only for a "_groch_" (two kopeks),[12] not for the
profit, but that we might not play for nothing, which, according to him,
was a very bad habit.

I agreed to this, and Zourine called for punch; then he advised me to
taste it, always repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

"And what," said he, "would the service be without punch?"

I followed his advice. We continued playing, and the more I sipped my
glass, the bolder I became. My balls flew beyond the cushions. I got
angry; I was impertinent to the marker who scored for us. I raised the
stake; in short, I behaved like a little boy just set free from school.
Thus the time passed very quickly. At last Zourine glanced at the clock,
put down his cue, and told me I had lost a hundred roubles.[13] This
disconcerted me very much; my money was in the hands of Saveliitch. I
was beginning to mumble excuses, when Zourine said--

"But don't trouble yourself; I can wait, and now let us go to
Arinushka's."

What could you expect? I finished my day as foolishly as I had begun it.
We supped with this Arinushka. Zourine always filled up my glass,
repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

Upon leaving the table I could scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine took
me back to the inn.

Saveliitch came to meet us at the door.

"What has befallen you?" he said to me in a melancholy voice, when he
saw the undoubted signs of my zeal for the service. "Where did you thus
swill yourself? Oh! good heavens! such a misfortune never happened
before."

"Hold your tongue, old owl," I replied, stammering; "I am sure you are
drunk. Go to bed, ... but first help me to bed."

The next day I awoke with a bad headache. I only remembered confusedly
the occurrences of the past evening. My meditations were broken by
Saveliitch, who came into my room with a cup of tea.

"You begin early making free, Petr' Andrejitch," he said to me, shaking
his head. "Well, where do you get it from? It seems to me that neither
your father nor your grandfather were drunkards. We needn't talk of
your mother; she has never touched a drop of anything since she was
born, except '_kvass_.'[14] So whose fault is it? Whose but the
confounded '_moussie_;' he taught you fine things, that son of a dog,
and well worth the trouble of taking a Pagan for your servant, as if our
master had not had enough servants of his own!"

I was ashamed. I turned round and said to him--

"Go away, Saveliitch; I don't want any tea."

But it was impossible to quiet Saveliitch when once he had begun to
sermonize.

"Do you see now, Petr' Andrejitch," said he, "what it is to commit
follies? You have a headache; you won't take anything. A man who gets
drunk is good for nothing. Do take a little pickled cucumber with honey
or half a glass of brandy to sober you. What do you think?"

At this moment a little boy came in, who brought me a note from Zourine.
I unfolded it and read as follows:--

"DEAR PETR' ANDREJITCH,

"Oblige me by sending by bearer the hundred roubles you lost to me
yesterday. I want money dreadfully.

"Your devoted

"IVAN ZOURINE."

There was nothing for it. I assumed a look of indifference, and,
addressing myself to Saveliitch, I bid him hand over a hundred roubles
to the little boy.

"What--why?" he asked me in great surprise.

"I owe them to him," I answered as coldly as possible.

"You owe them to him!" retorted Saveliitch, whose surprise became
greater. "When had you the time to run up such a debt? It is
impossible. Do what you please, excellency, but I will not give this
money."

I then considered that, if in this decisive moment I did not oblige this
obstinate old man to obey me, it would be difficult for me in future to
free myself from his tutelage. Glancing at him haughtily, I said to
him--

"I am your master; you are my servant. The money is mine; I lost it
because I chose to lose it. I advise you not to be headstrong, and to
obey your orders."

My words made such an impression on Saveliitch that he clasped his hands
and remained dumb and motionless.

"What are you standing there for like a stock?" I exclaimed, angrily.

Saveliitch began to weep.

"Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch," sobbed he, in a trembling voice; "do
not make me die of sorrow. Oh! my light, hearken to me who am old;
write to this robber that you were only joking, that we never had so
much money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him your parents have
strictly forbidden you to play for anything but nuts."

"Will you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting him. "Hand
over the money, or I will kick you out of the place."

Saveliitch looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and went to
fetch my money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I wished to assert
myself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine got his hundred
roubles.

Saveliitch was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn; he came in
telling me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk with an uneasy
conscience, and with some silent remorse, without taking leave of my
instructor, whom I little thought I should ever see again.




CHAPTER II.

THE GUIDE.


My reflections during the journey were not very pleasant. According to
the value of money at that time, my loss was of some importance. I could
not but confess to myself that my conduct at the Simbirsk Inn had been
most foolish, and I felt guilty toward Saveliitch. All this worried me.
The old man sat, in sulky silence, in the forepart of the sledge, with
his face averted, every now and then giving a cross little cough. I had
firmly resolved to make peace with him, but I did not know how to begin.
At last I said to him--

"Look here, Saveliitch, let us have done with all this; let us make
peace."

"Oh! my little father, Petr' Andrejitch," he replied, with a deep sigh,
"I am angry with myself; it is I who am to blame for everything. What
possessed me to leave you alone in the inn? But what could I do; the
devil would have it so, else why did it occur to me to go and see my
gossip the deacon's wife, and thus it happened, as the proverb says, 'I
left the house and was taken to prison.' What ill-luck! What ill-luck!
How shall I appear again before my master and mistress? What will they
say when they hear that their child is a drunkard and a gamester?"

To comfort poor Saveliitch, I gave him my word of honour that in future
I would not spend a single kopek without his consent. Gradually he
calmed down, though he still grumbled from time to time, shaking his
head--

"A hundred roubles, it is easy to talk!"

I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched a wild and dreary
desert, intersected by little hills and deep ravines. All was covered
with snow. The sun was setting. My _kibitka_ was following the narrow
road, or rather the track, left by the sledges of the peasants. All at
once my driver looked round, and addressing himself to me--

"Sir," said he, taking off his cap, "will you not order me to turn
back?"

"Why?"

"The weather is uncertain. There is already a little wind. Do you not
see how it is blowing about the surface snow."

"Well, what does that matter?"

"And do you see what there is yonder?"

The driver pointed east with his whip.

"I see nothing more than the white steppe and the clear sky."

"There, there; look, that little cloud!"

I did, in fact, perceive on the horizon a little white cloud which I
had at first taken for a distant hill. My driver explained to me that
this little cloud portended a "_bourane_."[15] I had heard of the
snowstorms peculiar to these regions, and I knew of whole caravans
having been sometimes buried in the tremendous drifts of snow.
Saveliitch was of the same opinion as the driver, and advised me to turn
back, but the wind did not seem to me very violent, and hoping to reach
in time the next posting station, I bid him try and get on quickly. He
put his horses to a gallop, continually looking, however, towards the
east. But the wind increased in force, the little cloud rose rapidly,
became larger and thicker, at last covering the whole sky. The snow
began to fall lightly at first, but soon in large flakes. The wind
whistled and howled; in a moment the grey sky was lost in the whirlwind
of snow which the wind raised from the earth, hiding everything around
us.

"How unlucky we are, excellency," cried the driver; "it is the
_bourane_."

I put my head out of the _kibitka_; all was darkness and confusion. The
wind blew with such ferocity that it was difficult not to think it an
animated being.

The snow drifted round and covered us. The horses went at a walk, and
soon stopped altogether.

"Why don't you go on?" I said, impatiently, to the driver.

"But where to?" he replied, getting out of the sledge. "Heaven only
knows where we are now. There is no longer any road, and it is all
dark."

I began to scold him, but Saveliitch took his part.

"Why did you not listen to him?" he said to me, angrily. "You would have
gone back to the post-house; you would have had some tea; you could
have slept till morning; the storm would have blown over, and we should
have started. And why such haste? Had it been to get married, now!"

Saveliitch was right. What was there to do? The snow continued to
fall--a heap was rising around the _kibitka_. The horses stood
motionless, hanging their heads and shivering from time to time.

The driver walked round them, settling their harness, as if he had
nothing else to do. Saveliitch grumbled. I was looking all round in
hopes of perceiving some indication of a house or a road; but I could
not see anything but the confused whirling of the snowstorm.

All at once I thought I distinguished something black.

"Hullo, driver!" I exclaimed, "what is that black thing over there?"

The driver looked attentively in the direction I was pointing out.

"Heaven only knows, excellency," replied he, resuming his seat.

"It is not a sledge, it is not a tree, and it seems to me that it moves.
It must be a wolf or a man."

I ordered him to move towards the unknown object, which came also to
meet us. In two minutes I saw it was a man, and we met.

"Hey, there, good man," the driver hailed him, "tell us, do you happen
to know the road?"

"This is the road," replied the traveller. "I am on firm ground; but
what the devil good does that do you?"

"Listen, my little peasant," said I to him, "do you know this part of
the country? Can you guide us to some place where we may pass the
night?"

"Do I know this country? Thank heaven," rejoined the stranger, "I have
travelled here, on horse and afoot, far and wide. But just look at this
weather! One cannot keep the road. Better stay here and wait; perhaps
the hurricane will cease and the sky will clear, and we shall find the
road by starlight."

His coolness gave me courage, and I resigned myself to pass the night on
the steppe, commending myself to the care of Providence, when suddenly
the stranger, seating himself on the driver's seat, said--

"Grace be to God, there _is_ a house not far off. Turn to the right, and
go on."

"Why should I go to the right?" retorted my driver, ill-humouredly.

"How do you know where the road is that you are so ready to say, 'Other
people's horses, other people's harness--whip away!'"

It seemed to me the driver was right.

"Why," said I to the stranger, "do you think a house is not far off?"

"The wind blew from that direction," replied he, "and I smelt smoke, a
sure sign that a house is near."

His cleverness and the acuteness of his sense of smell alike astonished
me. I bid the driver go where the other wished. The horses ploughed
their way through the deep snow. The _kibitka_ advanced slowly,
sometimes upraised on a drift, sometimes precipitated into a ditch, and
swinging from side to side. It was very like a boat on a stormy sea.

Saveliitch groaned deeply as every moment he fell upon me. I lowered the
_tsinofka_,[16] I rolled myself up in my cloak and I went to sleep,
rocked by the whistle of the storm and the lurching of the sledge. I had
then a dream that I have never forgotten, and in which I still see
something prophetic, as I recall the strange events of my life. The
reader will forgive me if I relate it to him, as he knows, no doubt, by
experience how natural it is for man to retain a vestige of superstition
in spite of all the scorn for it he may think proper to assume.

I had reached the stage when the real and unreal begin to blend into the
first vague visions of drowsiness. It seemed to me that the snowstorm
continued, and that we were wandering in the snowy desert. All at once I
thought I saw a great gate, and we entered the courtyard of our house.
My first thought was a fear that my father would be angry at my
involuntary return to the paternal roof, and would attribute it to a
premeditated disobedience. Uneasy, I got out of my _kibitka_, and I saw
my mother come to meet me, looking very sad.

"Don't make a noise," she said to me. "Your father is on his death-bed,
and wishes to bid you farewell."

Struck with horror, I followed her into the bedroom. I look round; the
room is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking sad
and cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the curtain, and
said--

"Andrej Petrovitch, Petrousha has come back; he came back having heard
of your illness. Give him your blessing."

I knelt down. But to my astonishment instead of my father I saw in the
bed a black-bearded peasant, who regarded me with a merry look. Full of
surprise, I turned towards my mother.

"What does this mean?" I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing?"

"It is the same thing, Petrousha," replied my mother. "That person is
your _godfather_.[17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you."

I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the bed,
quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood. The terrible peasant called me gently, saying to me--

"Fear nothing, come near; come and let me bless you."

Fear had stupified me....

At this moment I awoke. The horses had stopped; Saveliitch had hold of
my hand.

"Get out, excellency," said he to me; "here we are."

"Where?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"At our night's lodging. Heaven has helped us; we came by chance right
upon the hedge by the house. Get out, excellency, as quick as you can,
and let us see you get warm."

I got out of the _kibitka_. The snowstorm still raged, but less
violently. It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been
blind. The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath
the skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily
clean, lit by a _loutchina_.[18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a
high Cossack cap.

Our host, a Cossack of the Yaik,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still
fresh and hale. Saveliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a
fire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I
never had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.

"What has become of our guide? Where is he?" I asked Saveliitch.

"Here, your excellency," replied a voice from above.

I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard
and two sparkling eyes.

"Well, are you cold?"

"How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? I
had a _touloup_, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in
pawn at the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen."

At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling _samovar_.[20] I
offered our guide a cup of tea. He at once jumped down.

I was struck by his appearance. He was a man about forty, middle height,
thin, but broad-shouldered. His black beard was beginning to turn grey;
his large quick eyes roved incessantly around. In his face there was an
expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His hair was cut
short. He wore a little torn _armak_,[21] and wide Tartar trousers.

I offered him a cup of tea; he tasted it, and made a wry face.

"Do me the favour, your excellency," said he to me, "to give me a glass
of brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea."

I willingly acceded to his desire. The host took from one of the shelves
of the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked him
well in the face--

"Well, well," said he, "so here you are again in our part of the world.
Where, in heaven's name, do you come from now?"

My guide winked in a meaning manner, and replied by the well-known
saying--

"The sparrow was flying about in the orchard; he was eating hempseed;
the grandmother threw a stone at him, and missed him. And you, how are
you all getting on?"

"How are we all getting on?" rejoined the host, still speaking in
proverbs.

"Vespers were beginning to ring, but the wife of the _pope_[22] forbid
it; the pope went away on a visit, and the devils are abroad in the
churchyard."

"Shut up, uncle," retorted the vagabond. "When it rains there will be
mushrooms, and when you find mushrooms you will find a basket to put
them in. But now" (he winked a second time) "put your axe behind your
back,[23] the gamekeeper is abroad. To the health of your excellency."

So saying he took the glass, made the sign of the cross, and swallowed
his brandy at one gulp, then, bowing to me, returned to his lair above
the stove.

I could not then understand a single word of the thieves' slang they
employed. It was only later on that I understood that they were talking
about the army of the Yaik, which had only just been reduced to
submission after the revolt of 1772.[24]

Saveliitch listened to them talking with a very discontented manner, and
cast suspicious glances, sometimes on the host and sometimes on the
guide.

The kind of inn where we had sought shelter stood in the very middle of
the steppe, far from the road and from any dwelling, and certainly was
by no means unlikely to be a robber resort. But what could we do? We
could not dream of resuming our journey. Saveliitch's uneasiness amused
me very much. I stretched myself on a bench. My old retainer at last
decided to get up on the top of the stove,[25] while the host lay down
on the floor. They all soon began to snore, and I myself soon fell dead
asleep.

When I awoke, somewhat late, on the morrow I saw that the storm was
over. The sun shone brightly; the snow stretched afar like a dazzling
sheet. The horses were already harnessed. I paid the host, who named
such a mere trifle as my reckoning that Saveliitch did not bargain as he
usually did. His suspicions of the evening before were quite gone. I
called the guide to thank him for what he had done for us, and I told
Saveliitch to give him half a rouble as a reward.

Saveliitch frowned.

"Half a rouble!" cried he. "Why? Because you were good enough to bring
him yourself to the inn? I will obey you, excellency, but we have no
half roubles to spare. If we take to giving gratuities to everybody we
shall end by dying of hunger."

I could not dispute the point with Saveliitch; my money, according to my
solemn promise, was entirely at his disposal. Nevertheless, I was
annoyed that I was not able to reward a man who, if he had not brought
me out of fatal danger, had, at least, extricated me from an awkward
dilemma.

"Well," I said, coolly, to Saveliitch, "if you do not wish to give him
half a rouble give him one of my old coats; he is too thinly clad. Give
him my hareskin _touloup_."

"Have mercy on me, my father, Petr' Andrejitch!" exclaimed Saveliitch.
"What need has he of your _touloup_? He will pawn it for drink, the
dog, in the first tavern he comes across."

"That, my dear old fellow, is no longer your affair," said the vagabond,
"whether I drink it or whether I do not. His excellency honours me with
a coat off his own back.[26] It is his excellency's will, and it is your
duty as a serf not to kick against it, but to obey."

"You don't fear heaven, robber that you are," said Saveliitch, angrily.
"You see the child is still young and foolish, and you are quite ready
to plunder him, thanks to his kind heart. What do you want with a
gentleman's _touloup_? You could not even put it across your cursed
broad shoulders."

"I beg you will not play the wit," I said to my follower. "Get the cloak
quickly."

"Oh! good heavens!" exclaimed Saveliitch, bemoaning himself. "A
_touloup_ of hareskin, and still quite new! And to whom is it
given?--to a drunkard in rags."

However, the _touloup_ was brought. The vagabond began trying it on
directly. The _touloup_, which had already become somewhat too small for
me, was really too tight for him. Still, with some trouble, he succeeded
in getting it on, though he cracked all the seams. Saveliitch gave, as
it were, a subdued howl when he heard the threads snapping.

As to the vagabond, he was very pleased with my present. He ushered me
to my _kibitka_, and saying, with a low bow, "Thanks, your excellency;
may Heaven reward you for your goodness; I shall never forget, as long
as I live, your kindnesses," went his way, and I went mine, without
paying any attention to Saveliitch's sulkiness.

I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hareskin _touloup_.

Upon arrival at Orenburg I immediately waited on the General. I found a
tall man, already bent by age. His long hair was quite white; his old
uniform reminded one of a soldier of Tzarina Anne's[27] time, and he
spoke with a strongly-marked German accent. I gave him my father's
letter. Upon reading his name he cast a quick glance at me.

"Ah," said he, "it was but a short time Andrej Petrovitch was your age,
and now he has got a fine fellow of a son. Well, well--time, time."

He opened the letter, and began reading it half aloud, with a running
fire of remarks--

"'Sir, I hope your excellency'--What's all this ceremony? For shame! I
wonder he's not ashamed of himself! Of course, discipline before
everything; but is it thus one writes to an old comrade? 'Your
excellency will not have forgotten'--Humph! 'And when under the late
Field Marshal Muenich during the campaign, as well as little
Caroline'--Eh! eh! _bruder_! So he still remembers our old pranks? 'Now
for business. I send you my rogue'--Hum! 'Hold him with gloves of
porcupine-skin'--What does that mean--'gloves of porcupine-skin?' It
must be a Russian proverb.

"What does it mean, 'hold with gloves of porcupine-skin?'" resumed he,
turning to me.

"It means," I answered him, with the most innocent face in the world,
"to treat someone kindly, not too strictly, to leave him plenty of
liberty; that is what holding with gloves of porcupine-skin means."

"Humph! I understand."

"'And not give him any liberty'--No; it seems that porcupine-skin gloves
means something quite different.' Enclosed is his commission'--Where is
it then? Ah! here it is!--'in the roll of the Semenofsky Regiment'--All
right; everything necessary shall be done. 'Allow me to salute you
without ceremony, and like an old friend and comrade'--Ah! he has at
last remembered it all," etc., etc.

"Well, my little father," said he, after he had finished the letter and
put my commission aside, "all shall be done; you shall be an officer in
the ----th Regiment, and you shall go to-morrow to Fort Belogorsk, where
you will serve under the orders of Commandant Mironoff, a brave and
worthy man. There you will really serve and learn discipline. There is
nothing for you to do at Orenburg; amusement is bad for a young man.
To-day I invite you to dine with me."

"Worse and worse," thought I to myself. "What good has it done me to
have been a sergeant in the Guard from my cradle? Where has it brought
me? To the ----th Regiment, and to a fort stranded on the frontier of
the Kirghiz-Kaisak Steppes!"

I dined at Andrej Karlovitch's, in the company of his old aide de camp.
Strict German economy was the rule at his table, and I think that the
dread of a frequent guest at his bachelor's table contributed not a
little to my being so promptly sent away to a distant garrison.

The next day I took leave of the General, and started for my
destination.




CHAPTER III.

THE LITTLE POET.


The little fort of Belogorsk lay about forty versts[28] from Orenburg.
From this town the road followed along by the rugged banks of the R.
Yaik. The river was not yet frozen, and its lead-coloured waves looked
almost black contrasted with its banks white with snow. Before me
stretched the Kirghiz Steppes. I was lost in thought, and my reverie was
tinged with melancholy. Garrison life did not offer me much attraction.
I tried to imagine what my future chief, Commandant Mironoff, would be
like. I saw in my mind's eye a strict, morose old man, with no ideas
beyond the service, and prepared to put me under arrest for the smallest
trifle.

Twilight was coming on; we were driving rather quickly.

"Is it far from here to the fort?" I asked the driver.

"Why, you can see it from here," replied he.

I began looking all round, expecting to see high bastions, a wall, and a
ditch. I saw nothing but a little village, surrounded by a wooden
palisade. On one side three or four haystacks, half covered with snow;
on another a tumble-down windmill, whose sails, made of coarse limetree
bark, hung idly down.

"But where is the fort?" I asked, in surprise.

"There it is yonder, to be sure," rejoined the driver, pointing out to
me the village which we had just reached.

I noticed near the gateway an old iron cannon. The streets were narrow
and crooked, nearly all the _izbas_[29] were thatched. I ordered him to
take me to the Commandant, and almost directly my _kibitka_ stopped
before a wooden house, built on a knoll near the church, which was also
in wood.

No one came to meet me. From the steps I entered the ante-room. An old
pensioner, seated on a table, was busy sewing a blue patch on the elbow
of a green uniform. I begged him to announce me.

"Come in, my little father," he said to me; "we are all at home."

I went into a room, very clean, but furnished in a very homely manner.
In one corner there stood a dresser with crockery on it. Against the
wall hung, framed and glazed, an officer's commission. Around this were
arranged some bark pictures,[30] representing the "Taking of Kustrin"
and of "Otchakof,"[31] "The Choice of the Betrothed," and the "Burial of
the Cat by the Mice." Near the window sat an old woman wrapped in a
shawl, her head tied up in a handkerchief. She was busy winding thread,
which a little, old, one-eyed man in an officer's uniform was holding on
his outstretched hands.

"What do you want, my little father?" she said to me, continuing her
employment.

I answered that I had been ordered to join the service here, and that,
therefore, I had hastened to report myself to the Commandant. With these
words I turned towards the little, old, one-eyed man, whom I had taken
for the Commandant. But the good lady interrupted the speech with which
I had prepared myself.

"Ivan Kouzmitch[32] is not at home," said she. "He is gone to see Father
Garassim. But it's all the same, I am his wife. Be so good as to love us
and take us into favour.[33] Sit down, my little father."

She called a servant, and bid her tell the "_ouriadnik_"[34] to come.
The little, old man was looking curiously at me with his one eye.

"Might I presume to ask you," said he to me, "in what regiment you have
deigned to serve?"

I satisfied his curiosity.

"And might I ask you," continued he, "why you have condescended to
exchange from the Guard into our garrison?"

I replied that it was by order of the authorities.

"Probably for conduct unbecoming an officer of the Guard?" rejoined my
indefatigable questioner.

"Will you be good enough to stop talking nonsense?" the wife of the
Commandant now said to him. "You can see very well that this young man
is tired with his journey. He has something else to do than to answer
your questions. Hold your hands better. And you, my little father," she
continued, turning to me, "do not bemoan yourself too much because you
have been shoved into our little hole of a place; you are not the first,
and you will not be the last. One may suffer, but one gets accustomed to
it. For instance, Chvabrine, Alexey Ivanytch,[35] was transferred to us
four years ago on account of a murder. Heaven knows what ill-luck befel
him. It happened one day he went out of the town with a lieutenant, and
they had taken swords, and they set to pinking one another, and Alexey
Ivanytch killed the lieutenant, and before a couple of witnesses. Well,
well, there's no heading ill-luck!"

At this moment the "_ouriadnik_," a young and handsome Cossack, came in.

"Maximitch," the Commandant's wife said to him, "find a quarter for this
officer, and a clean one."

"I obey, Vassilissa Igorofna,"[36] replied the "_ouriadnik_." "Ought not
his excellency to go to Iwan Polejaieff?"

"You are doting, Maximitch," retorted the Commandant's wife; "Polejaieff
has already little enough room; and, besides, he is my gossip; and then
he does not forget that we are his superiors. Take the gentleman--What
is your name, my little father?"

"Petr' Andrejitch."

"Take Petr' Andrejitch to Semeon Kouzoff's. The rascal let his horse get
into my kitchen garden. Is everything in order, Maximitch?"

"Thank heaven! all is quiet," replied the Cossack. "Only Corporal
Prokoroff has been fighting in the bathhouse with the woman Oustinia
Pegoulina for a pail of hot water."

"Iwan Ignatiitch,"[37] said the Commandant's wife to the little one-eyed
man, "you must decide between Prokoroff and Oustinia which is to blame,
and punish both of them; and you, Maximitch, go, in heaven's name! Petr'
Andrejitch, Maximitch will take you to your lodging."

I took leave. The "_ouriadnik"_ led me to an _izba_, which stood on the
steep bank of the river, quite at the far end of the little fort. Half
the _izba_ was occupied by the family of Semeon Kouzoff, the other half
was given over to me. This half consisted of a tolerably clean room,
divided into two by a partition.

Saveliitch began to unpack, and I looked out of the narrow window. I saw
stretching out before me a bare and dull steppe; on one side there stood
some huts. Some fowls were wandering down the street. An old woman,
standing on a doorstep, holding in her hand a trough, was calling to
some pigs, the pigs replying by amicable grunts.

And it was in such a country as this I was condemned to pass my youth!

Overcome by bitter grief, I left the window, and went to bed supperless,
in spite of Saveliitch's remonstrances, who continued to repeat, in a
miserable tone--

"Oh, good heavens! he does not deign to eat anything. What would my
mistress say if the child should fall ill?"

On the morrow, I had scarcely begun to dress before the door of my room
opened, and a young officer came in. He was undersized, but, in spite of
irregular features, his bronzed face had a remarkably gay and lively
expression.

"I beg your pardon," said he to me in French,[38] "for coming thus
unceremoniously to make your acquaintance. I heard of your arrival
yesterday, and the wish to see at last a human being took such
possession of me that I could not resist any longer. You will understand
that when you have been here some time!"

I easily guessed that this was the officer sent away from the Guard in
consequence of the duel.

We made acquaintance. Chvabrine was very witty. His conversation was
lively and interesting. He described to me, with, much raciness and
gaiety, the Commandant's family, the society of the fort, and, in short,
all the country where my fate had led me.

I was laughing heartily when the same pensioner whom I had seen patching
his uniform in the Commandant's ante-room, came in with an invitation to
dinner for me from Vassilissa Igorofna.

Chvabrine said he should accompany me.

As we drew near the Commandant's house we saw in the square about twenty
little old pensioners, with long pigtails and three-cornered hats. They
were drawn up in line. Before them stood the Commandant, a tall, old
man, still hale, in a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap.

As soon as he perceived us he came up, said a few pleasant words to me,
and went back to the drill. We were going to stop and see the
manoeuvres, but he begged us to go at once to Vassilissa Igorofna's,
promising to follow us directly. "Here," said he, "there's really
nothing to see."

Vassilissa Igorofna received us with simplicity and kindness, and
treated me as if she had known me a long time. The pensioner and
Palashka were laying the cloth.

"What possesses my Ivan Kouzmitch to-day to drill his troops so long?"
remarked the Commandant's wife. "Palashka, go and fetch him for dinner.
And what can have become of Masha?"[39]

Hardly had she said the name than a young girl of sixteen came into the
room. She had a fresh, round face, and her hair was smoothly put back
behind her ears, which were red with shyness and modesty. She did not
please me very much at first sight; I looked at her with prejudice.
Chvabrine had described Marya, the Commandant's daughter, to me as being
rather silly. She went and sat down in a corner, and began to sew. Still
the "_chtchi_"[40] had been brought in. Vassilissa Igorofna, not seeing
her husband come back, sent Palashka for the second time to call him.

"Tell the master that the visitors are waiting, and the soup is getting
cold. Thank heaven, the drill will not run away. He will have plenty of
time to shout as much as he likes."

The Commandant soon appeared, accompanied by the little old one-eyed
man.

"What does all this mean, my little father?" said his wife to him.
"Dinner has been ready a long time, and we cannot make you come."

"But don't you see, Vassilissa Igorofna," replied Ivan Kouzmitch, "I
was very busy drilling my little soldiers."

"Nonsense," replied she, "that's only a boast; they are past service,
and you don't know much about it. You should have stayed at home, and
said your prayers; that would have been much better for you. My dear
guests, pray sit down to table."

We took our places. Vassilissa Igorofna never ceased talking for a
moment, and overwhelmed me with questions. Who were my parents, were
they alive, where did they live, and what was their income? When she
learnt that my father had three hundred serfs--

"Well!" she exclaimed, "there are rich people in this world! And as to
us, my little father, we have as to souls[41] only the servant girl,
Palashka. Well, thank heaven, we get along little by little. We have
only one care on our minds--Masha, a girl who must be married. And what
dowry has she got? A comb and two-pence to pay for a bath twice a year.
If only she could light on some honest man! If not she must remain an
old maid!"

I glanced at Marya Ivanofna.[42] She had become quite red, and tears
were rolling down, even into her plate. I was sorry for her, and I
hastened to change the conversation.

"I have heard," I exclaimed (very much to the point), "that the Bashkirs
intend to attack your fort."

"Who told you that, my little father?" replied Ivan Kouzmitch.

"I heard it said at Orenburg," replied I.

"That's all rubbish," said the Commandant. "We have not heard a word of
it for ever so long. The Bashkir people have been thoroughly awed, and
the Kirghiz, too, have had some good lessons. They won't dare to attack
us, and if they venture to do so I'll give them such a fright that they
won't stir for ten years at least."

"And you are not afraid," I continued, addressing the Commandant's wife,
"to stay in a fort liable to such dangers?"

"It's all a question of custom, my little father," answered she. "It's
twenty years ago now since we were transferred from the regiment here.
You would never believe how frightened I used to be of those confounded
Pagans. If ever I chanced to see their hairy caps, or hear their howls,
believe me, my little father, I nearly died of it. And now I am so
accustomed to it that I should not budge an inch if I was told that the
rascals were prowling all around the fort."

"Vassilissa Igorofna is a very brave lady," remarked Chvabrine, gravely.
"Ivan Kouzmitch knows something of that."

"Oh! yes, indeed," said Ivan Kouzmitch, "she's no coward."

"And Marya Ivanofna," I asked her mother, "is she as bold as you?"

"Masha!" replied the lady; "no, Masha is a coward. Till now she has
never been able to hear a gun fired without trembling all over. It is
two years ago now since Ivan Kouzmitch took it into his head to fire his
cannon on my birthday; she was so frightened, the poor little dove, she
nearly ran away into the other world. Since that day we have never fired
that confounded cannon any more."

We got up from table; the Commandant and his wife went to take their
siesta, and I went to Chvabrine's quarters, where we passed the evening
together.




CHAPTER IV.

THE DUEL.


Several weeks passed, during which my life in Fort Belogorsk became not
merely endurable, but even pleasant. I was received like one of the
family in the household of the Commandant. The husband and wife were
excellent people. Ivan Kouzmitch, who had been a child of the regiment,
had become an officer, and was a simple, uneducated man, but good and
true. His wife led him completely, which, by the way, very well suited
his natural laziness.

It was Vassilissa Igorofna who directed all military business as she
did that of her household, and commanded in the little fort as she did
in her house. Marya Ivanofna soon ceased being shy, and we became better
acquainted. I found her a warm-hearted and sensible girl. By degrees I
became attached to this honest family, even to Iwan Ignatiitch, the
one-eyed lieutenant, whom Chvabrine accused of secret intrigue with
Vassilissa Igorofna, an accusation which had not even a shadow of
probability. But that did not matter to Chvabrine.

I became an officer. My work did not weigh heavily upon me. In this
heaven-blest fort there was no drill to do, no guard to mount, nor
review to pass. Sometimes the Commandant instructed his soldiers for his
own pleasure. But he had not yet succeeded in teaching them to know
their right hand from their left. Chvabrine had some French books; I
took to reading, and I acquired a taste for literature. In the morning I
used to read, and I tried my hand at translations, sometimes even at
compositions in verse. Nearly every day I dined at the Commandant's,
where I usually passed the rest of the day. In the evening, Father
Garasim used to drop in, accompanied by his wife, Akoulina, who was the
sturdiest gossip of the neighbourhood. It is scarcely necessary to say
that every day we met, Chvabrine and I. Still hour by hour his
conversation pleased me less. His everlasting jokes about the
Commandant's family, and, above all, his witty remarks upon Marya
Ivanofna, displeased me very much. I had no other society but that of
this family within the little fort, but I did not want any other.

In spite of all the prophecies, the Bashkirs did not revolt. Peace
reigned around our little fort. But this peace was suddenly troubled by
war within.

I have already said I dabbled a little in literature. My attempts were
tolerable for the time, and Soumarokoff[43] himself did justice to them
many years later. One day I happened to write a little song which
pleased me. It is well-known that under colour of asking advice, authors
willingly seek a benevolent listener; I copied out my little song, and
took it to Chvabrine, the only person in the fort who could appreciate a
poetical work.

After a short preface, I drew my manuscript from my pocket, and read to
him the following verses:[44]

  "By waging war with thoughts of love
  I try to forget my beauty;
  Alas! by flight from Masha,
  I hope my freedom to regain!

  "But the eyes which enslaved me are ever before me.
  My soul have they troubled and ruined my rest.

    "Oh! Masha, who knowest my sorrows,
    Seeing me in this miserable plight,
    Take pity on thy captive."

"What do you think of that?" I said to Chvabrine, expecting praise as a
tribute due to me. But to my great displeasure Chvabrine, who usually
showed kindness, told me flatly my song was worth nothing.

"Why?" I asked, trying to hide my vexation.

"Because such verses," replied he, "are only worthy of my master
Trediakofski,[45] and, indeed, remind me very much of his little erotic
couplets."

He took the MSS. from my hand and began unmercifully criticizing each
verse, each word, cutting me up in the most spiteful way. That was too
much for me; I snatched the MSS. out of his hands, and declared that
never, no never, would I ever again show him one of my compositions.
Chvabrine did not laugh the less at this threat.



"Let us see," said he, "if you will be able to keep your word; poets
have as much need of an audience as Ivan Kouzmitch has need of his
'_petit verre_' before dinner. And who is this Masha to whom you declare
your tender sentiments and your ardent flame? Surely it must be Marya
Ivanofna?"

"That does not concern you," replied I, frowning; "I don't ask for your
advice nor your suppositions."

"Oh! oh! a vain poet and a discreet lover," continued Chvabrine,
irritating me more and more. "Listen to a little friendly advice: if you
wish to succeed, I advise you not to stick at songs."

"What do you mean, sir?" I exclaimed; "explain yourself if you please."

"With pleasure," rejoined he. "I mean that if you want to be well with
Masha Mironoff, you need only make her a present of a pair of earrings
instead of your languishing verses."

My blood boiled.

"Why have you such an opinion of her?" I asked him, restraining with
difficulty my indignation.

"Because," replied he, with a satanic smile, "because I know by
experience her views and habits."

"You lie, you rascal!" I shouted at him, in fury. "You are a shameless
liar."

Chvabrine's face changed.

"This I cannot overlook," he said; "you shall give me satisfaction."

"Certainly, whenever you like," replied I, joyfully; for at that moment
I was ready to tear him in pieces.

I rushed at once to Iwan Ignatiitch, whom I found with a needle in his
hand. In obedience to the order of the Commandant's wife, he was
threading mushrooms to be dried for the winter.

"Ah! Petr' Andrejitch," said he, when he saw me; "you are welcome. On
what errand does heaven send you, if I may presume to ask?"

I told him in a few words that I had quarrelled with Alexey Ivanytch,
and that I begged him, Iwan Ignatiitch, to be my second. Iwan Ignatiitch
heard me till I had done with great attention, opening wide his single
eye.

"You deign to tell me," said he, "that you wish to kill Alexey Ivanytch,
and that I am to be witness? Is not that what you mean, if I may presume
to ask you?"

"Exactly."

"But, good heavens, Petr' Andrejitch, what folly have you got in your
head? You and Alexey Ivanytch have insulted one another; well, a fine
affair! You needn't wear an insult hung round your neck. He has said
silly things to you, give him some impertinence; he in return will give
you a blow, give him in return a box on the ear; he another, you
another, and then you part. And presently we oblige you to make peace.
Whereas now--is it a good thing to kill your neighbour, if I may presume
to ask you? Even if it were _you_ who should kill _him_! May heaven be
with him, for I do not love him. But if it be he who is to run you
through, you will have made a nice business of it. Who will pay for the
broken pots, allow me to ask?"

The arguments of the prudent officer did not deter me. My resolution
remained firm.

"As you like," said Iwan Ignatiitch, "do as you please; but what good
should I do as witness? People fight; what is there extraordinary in
that, allow me to ask? Thank heaven I have seen the Swedes and the
Turks at close quarters, and I have seen a little of everything."

I endeavoured to explain to him as best I could the duty of a second,
but I found Iwan Ignatiitch quite unmanageable.

"Do as you like," said he; "if I meddled in the matter, it would be to
go and tell Ivan Kouzmitch, according to the rules of the service, that
a criminal deed is being plotted in the fort, in opposition to the
interests of the crown, and remark to the Commandant how advisable it
would be that he should think of taking the necessary measures."

I was frightened, and I begged Iwan Ignatiitch not to say anything to
the Commandant. With great difficulty I managed to quiet him, and at
last made him promise to hold his tongue, when I left him in peace.

As usual I passed the evening at the Commandant's. I tried to appear
lively and unconcerned in order not to awaken any suspicions, and avoid
any too curious questions. But I confess I had none of the coolness of
which people boast who have found themselves in the same position. All
that evening I felt inclined to be soft-hearted and sentimental.

Marya Ivanofna pleased me more than usual. The thought that perhaps I
was seeing her for the last time gave her, in my eyes, a touching grace.

Chvabrine came in. I took him aside and told him about my interview with
Iwan Ignatiitch.

"Why any seconds?" he said to me, dryly. "We shall do very well without
them."

We decided to fight on the morrow behind the haystacks, at six o'clock
in the morning.

Seeing us talking in such a friendly manner, Iwan Ignatiitch, full of
joy, nearly betrayed us.

"You should have done that long ago," he said to me, with a face of
satisfaction. "Better a hollow peace than an open quarrel."

"What is that you say, Iwan Ignatiitch?" said the Commandant's wife, who
was playing patience in a corner. "I did not exactly catch what you
said."

Iwan Ignatiitch, who saw my face darken, recollected his promise, became
confused, and did not know what to say. Chvabrine came to the rescue.

"Iwan Ignatiitch," said he, "approves of the compact we have made."

"And with whom, my little father, did you quarrel?"

"Why, with Petr' Andrejitch, to be sure, and we even got to high words."

"What for?"

"About a mere trifle, over a little song."

"Fine thing to quarrel over--a little song! How did it happen?"

"Thus. Petr' Andrejitch lately composed a song, and he began singing it
to me this morning. So I--I struck up mine, 'Captain's daughter, don't
go abroad at dead of night!' As we did not sing in the same key, Petr'
Andrejitch became angry. But afterwards he reflected that 'every one is
free to sing what he pleases,' and that's all."

Chvabrine's insolence made me furious, but no one else, except myself,
understood his coarse allusions. Nobody, at least, took up the subject.
From poetry the conversation passed to poets in general, and the
Commandant made the remark that they were all rakes and confirmed
drunkards; he advised me as a friend to give up poetry as a thing
opposed to the service, and leading to no good.

Chvabrine's presence was to me unbearable. I hastened to take leave of
the Commandant and his family. After coming home I looked at my sword; I
tried its point, and I went to bed after ordering Saveliitch to wake me
on the morrow at six o'clock.

On the following day, at the appointed hour, I was already behind the
haystacks, waiting for my foeman. It was not long before he appeared.

"We may be surprised," he said to me; "we must make haste."

We laid aside our uniforms, and in our waistcoats we drew our swords
from the scabbard.

At this moment Iwan Ignatiitch, followed by five pensioners, came out
from behind a heap of hay. He gave us an order to go at once before the
Commandant. We sulkily obeyed. The soldiers surrounded us, and we
followed Iwan Ignatiitch who brought us along in triumph, walking with
a military step, with majestic gravity.

We entered the Commandant's house. Iwan Ignatiitch threw the door wide
open, and exclaimed, emphatically--

"They are taken!"

Vassilissa Igorofna ran to meet us.

"What does all this mean? Plotting assassination in our very fort! Ivan
Kouzmitch, put them under arrest at once. Petr' Andrejitch, Alexey
Ivanytch, give up your swords, give them up--give them up. Palashka,
take away the swords to the garret. Petr' Andrejitch, I did not expect
this of you; aren't you ashamed of yourself? As to Alexey Ivanytch, it's
different; he was transferred from the Guard for sending a soul into the
other world. He does not believe in our Lord! But do you wish to do
likewise?"

Ivan Kouzmitch approved of all his wife said, repeating--

"Look there, now, Vassilissa Igorofna is quite right--duels are
formally forbidden by martial law."

Palashka had taken away our swords, and had carried them to the garret.
I could not help laughing. Chvabrine looked grave.

"In spite of all the respect I have for you," he said, coolly, to the
Commandant's wife, "I cannot help remarking that you are giving yourself
useless trouble by trying us at your tribunal. Leave this cure do Ivan
Kouzmitch--it is his business."

"What! what! my little father!" retorted the Commandant's wife, "are not
husband and wife the same flesh and spirit? Ivan Kouzmitch, are you
trifling? Lock them up separately, and keep them on broad and water till
this ridiculous idea goes out of their heads. And Father Garasim shall
make them do penance that they may ask pardon of heaven and of men."

Ivan Kouzmitch did not know what to do. Marya Ivanofna was very pale.
Little by little the storm sank. The Commandant's wife became more easy
to deal with. She ordered us to make friends. Palashka brought us back
our swords. We left the house apparently reconciled. Ivan Ignatiitch
accompanied us.

"Weren't you ashamed," I said to him, angrily, "thus to denounce us to
the Commandant after giving me your solemn word not to do so?"

"As God is holy," replied he, "I said nothing to Ivan Kouzmitch; it was
Vassilissa Igorofna who wormed it all out of me. It was she who took all
the necessary measures unknown to the Commandant. As it is, heaven be
praised that it has all ended in this way."

After this reply he returned to his quarters, and I remained alone with
Chvabrine.

"Our affair can't end thus," I said to him.

"Certainly not," rejoined Chvabrine. "You shall wash out your insolence
in blood. But they will watch us; we must pretend to be friends for a
few days. Good-bye."

And we parted as if nothing had happened.

Upon my return to the Commandant's, I sat down according to my custom by
Marya Ivanofna; her father was not at home, and her mother was engaged
with household cares. We spoke in a low voice Marya Ivanofna reproached
me tenderly for the anxiety my quarrel with Chvabrine had occasioned
her.

"My heart failed me," said she, "when they came to tell us that you were
going to draw swords on each other. How strange men are! For a word
forgotten the next week they are ready to cut each other's throats, and
to sacrifice not only their life, but their honour, and the happiness of
those who--But I am sure it was not you who began the quarrel; it was
Alexey Ivanytch who was the aggressor."

"What makes you think so, Marya?"

"Why, because--because he is so sneering. I do not like Alexey Ivanytch;
I even dislike him. Yet, all the same, I should not have liked him to
dislike me; it would have made me very uneasy."

"And what do you think, Marya Ivanofna, does he dislike you or no?"

Marya Ivanofna looked disturbed, and grew very red.

"I think," she said, at last, "I think he likes me."

"Why?"

"Because he proposed to me."

"Proposed to you! When?"

"Last year, two months before you came."

"And you did not consent?"

"As you see, Alexey Ivanytch is a man of wit, and of good family, to be
sure, well off, too; but only to think of being obliged to kiss him
before everybody under the marriage crown! No, no; nothing in the world
would induce me."

The words of Marya Ivanofna enlightened me, and made many things clear
to me. I understood now why Chvabrine so persistently followed her up.
He had probably observed our mutual attraction, and was trying to detach
us one from another.

The words which had provoked our quarrel seemed to me the more infamous
when, instead of a rude and coarse joke, I saw in them a premeditated
calumny.

The wish to punish the barefaced liar took more entire possession of me,
and I awaited impatiently a favourable moment. I had not to wait long.
On the morrow, just as I was busy composing an elegy, and I was biting
my pen as I searched for a rhyme, Chvabrine tapped at my window. I laid
down the pen, and I took up my sword and left the house.

"Why delay any longer?" said Chvabrine. "They are not watching us any
more. Let us go to the river-bank; there nobody will interrupt us."

We started in silence, and after having gone down a rugged path we
halted at the water's edge and crossed swords.

Chvabrine was a better swordsman than I was, but I was stronger and
bolder, and M. Beaupre, who had, among other things, been a soldier, had
given me some lessons in fencing, by which I had profited.

Chvabrine did not in the least expect to find in me such a dangerous
foeman. For a long while we could neither of us do the other any harm,
but at last, noticing that Chvabrine was getting tired, I vigorously
attacked him, and almost forced him backwards into the river.

Suddenly I heard my own name called in a loud voice. I quickly turned my
head, and saw Saveliitch running towards me down the path. At this
moment I felt a sharp prick in the chest, under the right shoulder, and
I fell senseless.




CHAPTER V.

LOVE.


When I came to myself I remained some time without understanding what
had befallen me, nor where I chanced to be. I was in bed in an
unfamiliar room, and I felt very weak indeed. Saveliitch was standing by
me, a light in his hand. Someone was unrolling with care the bandages
round my shoulder and chest. Little by little my ideas grew clearer. I
recollected my duel and guessed without any difficulty that I had been
wounded. At this moment the door creaked slightly on its hinges.

"Well, how is he getting on?" whispered a voice which thrilled through
me.

"Always the same still," replied Saveliitch, sighing; "always
unconscious, as he has now been these four days."

I wished to turn, but I had not strength to do so.

"Where am I? Who is there?" I said, with difficulty. Marya Ivanofna came
near to my bed and leaned gently over me.

"How do you feel?" she said to me.

"All right, thank God!" I replied in a weak voice. "It is you, Marya
Ivanofna; tell me--"

I could not finish. Saveliitch exclaimed, joy painted on his face--

"He is coming to himself!--he is coming to himself! Oh! thanks be to
heaven! My father Petr' Andrejitch, have you frightened me enough? Four
days! That seems little enough to say, but--"

Marya Ivanofna interrupted him.

"Do not talk to him too much, Saveliitch; he is still very weak."

She went away, shutting the door carefully.

I felt myself disturbed with confused thoughts. I was evidently in the
house of the Commandant, as Marya Ivanofna could thus come and see me! I
wished to question Saveliitch; but the old man shook his head and turned
a deaf ear. I shut my eyes in displeasure, and soon fell asleep. Upon
waking I called Saveliitch, but in his stead I saw before me Marya
Ivanofna, who greeted me in her soft voice. I cannot describe the
delicious feeling which thrilled through me at this moment, I seized her
hand and pressed it in a transport of delight, while bedewing it with my
tears. Marya did not withdraw it, and all of a sudden I felt upon my
cheek the moist and burning imprint of her lips. A wild flame of love
thrilled through my whole being.

"Dear, good Marya Ivanofna," I said to her, "be my wife. Consent to give
me happiness."

She became reasonable again.

"For heaven's sake, calm yourself," she said, withdrawing her hand. "You
are still in danger; your wound may reopen; be careful of yourself--were
it only for my sake."

After these words she went away, leaving me at the height of happiness.
I felt that life was given back to me.

"She will be mine! She loves me!"

This thought filled all my being.

From this moment I hourly got better. It was the barber of the regiment
who dressed my wound, for there was no other doctor in all the fort,
and, thank God, he did not attempt any doctoring. Youth and nature
hastened my recovery. All the Commandant's family took the greatest
care of me. Marya Ivanofna scarcely ever left me. It is unnecessary to
say that I seized the first favourable opportunity to resume my
interrupted proposal, and this time Marya heard me more patiently. She
naively avowed to me her love, and added that her parents would, in all
probability, rejoice in her happiness.

"But think well about it," she used to say to me. "Will there be no
objections on the part of your family?"

These words made me reflect. I had no doubt of my mother's tenderness;
but knowing the character and way of thinking of my father, I foresaw
that my love would not touch him very much, and that he would call it
youthful folly. I frankly confessed this to Marya Ivanofna, but in spite
of this I resolved to write to my father as eloquently as possible to
ask his blessing. I showed my letter to Marya Ivanofna, who found it so
convincing and touching that she had no doubt of success, and gave
herself up to the feelings of her heart with all the confidence of youth
and love.

I made peace with Chvabrine during the early days of my convalescence.
Ivan Kouzmitch said to me, reproaching me for the duel--

"You know, Petr' Andrejitch, properly speaking, I ought to put you under
arrest; but you are already sufficiently punished without that. As to
Alexey Ivanytch, he is confined by my order, and under strict guard, in
the corn magazine, and Vassilissa Igorofna has his sword under lock and
key. He will have time to reflect and repent at his ease."

I was too happy to cherish the least rancour. I began to intercede for
Chvabrine, and the good Commandant, with his wife's leave, agreed to set
him at liberty. Chvabrine came to see me. He expressed deep regret for
all that had occurred, declared it was all his fault, and begged me to
forget the past. Not being of a rancorous disposition, I heartily
forgave him both our quarrel and my wound. I saw in his slander the
irritation of wounded vanity and rejected love, so I generously forgave
my unhappy rival.

I was soon completely recovered, and was able to go back to my quarters.
I impatiently awaited the answer to my letter, not daring to hope, but
trying to stifle sad forebodings that would arise. I had not yet
attempted any explanation as regarded Vassilissa Igorofna and her
husband. But my courtship could be no surprise to them, as neither Marya
nor myself made any secret of our feelings before them, and we were sure
beforehand of their consent.

At last, one fine day, Saveliitch came into my room with a letter in his
hand.

I took it trembling. The address was written in my father's hand.

This prepared me for something serious, since it was usually my mother
who wrote, and he only added a few lines at the end. For a long time I
could not make up my mind to break the seal. I read over the solemn
address:--

"To my son, Petr' Andrejitch Grineff, District of Orenburg, Fort
Belogorsk."

I tried to guess from my father's handwriting in what mood he had
written the letter. At last I resolved to open it, and I did not need to
read more than the first few lines to see that the whole affair was at
the devil. Here are the contents of this letter:--

"My Son Petr',--

"We received the 15th of this month the letter in which you ask our
parental blessing and our consent to your marriage with Marya Ivanofna,
the Mironoff daughter.[46] And not only have I no intention of giving
you either my blessing or my consent, but I intend to come and punish
you well for your follies, like a little boy, in spite of your officer's
rank, because you have shown me that you are not fit to wear the sword
entrusted to you for the defence of your country, and not for fighting
duels with fools like yourself. I shall write immediately to Andrej
Karlovitch to beg him to send you away from Fort Belogorsk to some place
still further removed, so that you may get over this folly.

"Upon hearing of your duel and wound your mother fell ill with sorrow,
and she is still confined to her bed.

"What will become of you? I pray God may correct you, though I scarcely
dare trust in His goodness.

"Your father,

"A.G."

The perusal of this letter aroused in me a medley of feelings. The
harsh expressions which my father had not scrupled to make use of hurt
me deeply; the contempt which he cast on Marya Ivanofna appeared to me
as unjust as it was unseemly; while, finally, the idea of being sent
away from Fort Belogorsk dismayed me. But I was, above all, grieved at
my mother's illness.

I was disgusted with Saveliitch, never doubting that it was he who had
made known my duel to my parents. After walking up and down awhile in my
little room, I suddenly stopped short before him, and said to him,
angrily--

"It seems that it did not satisfy you that, thanks to you, I've been
wounded and at death's door, but that you must also want to kill my
mother as well."

Saveliitch remained motionless, as it struck by a thunderbolt.

"Have pity on me, sir," he exclaimed, almost sobbing. "What is it you
deign to tell me--that I am the cause of your wound? But God knows I was
only running to stand between you and Alexey Ivanytch's sword. Accursed
old age alone prevented me. What have I now done to your mother?"

"What did you do?" I retorted. "Who told you to write and denounce me?
Were you put in my service to be a spy upon me?"

"I denounce you!" replied Saveliitch, in tears. "Oh, good heavens! Here,
be so good as to read what master has written to me, and see if it was I
who denounced you."

With this he drew from his pocket a letter, which he offered to me, and
I read as follows:--

"Shame on you, you old dog, for never writing and telling me anything
about my son, Petr' Andrejitch, in spite of my strict orders, and that
it should be from strangers that I learn his follies! Is it thus you do
your duty and act up to your master's wishes? I shall send you to keep
the pigs, old rascal, for having hid from me the truth, and for your
weak compliance with the lad's whims. On receipt of this letter, I order
you to let me know directly the state of his health, which, judging by
what I hear, is improving, and to tell me exactly the place where he was
hit, and if the wound be well healed."

Evidently Saveliitch had not been the least to blame, and it was I who
had insulted him by my suspicions and reproaches. I begged his pardon,
but the old man was inconsolable.

"That I should have lived to see it!" repeated he. "These be the thanks
that I have deserved of my masters for all my long service. I am an old
dog. I'm only fit, to keep pigs, and in addition to all this I am the
cause of your wound. No, my father, Petr' Andrejitch, 'tis not I who am
to blame, it is rather the confounded '_mossoo_;' it was he who taught
you to fight with those iron spits, stamping your foot, as though by
ramming and stamping you could defend yourself from a bad man. It was,
indeed, worth while spending money upon a '_mossoo_' to teach you that."

But who could have taken the trouble to tell my father what I had done.
The General? He did not seem to trouble himself much about me; and,
indeed, Ivan Kouzmitch had not thought it necessary to report my duel to
him. I could not think. My suspicions fell upon Chvabrine; he alone
could profit by this betrayal, which might end in my banishment from the
fort and my separation from the Commandant's family. I was going to tell
all to Marya Ivanofna when she met me on the doorstep.

"What has happened?" she said to me. "How pale you are!"

"All is at an end," replied I, handing her my father's letter.

In her turn she grew pale. After reading the letter she gave it me back,
and said, in a voice broken by emotion--

"It was not my fate. Your parents do not want me in your family; God's
will be done! God knows better than we do what is fit for us. There is
nothing to be done, Petr' Andrejitch; may you at least be happy."

"It shall not be thus!" I exclaimed, seizing her hand. "You love me; I
am ready for anything. Let us go and throw ourselves at your parents'
feet. They are honest people, neither proud nor hard; they--they will
give us their blessing--we will marry, and then with time, I am sure, we
shall succeed in mollifying my father. My mother will intercede for us,
and he will forgive me."

"No, Petr' Andrejitch," replied Marya, "I will not marry you without
the blessing of your parents. Without their blessing you would not be
happy. Let us submit to the will of God. Should you meet with another
betrothed, should you love her, _God be with you_,[47] Petr' Andrejitch,
I--I will pray for you both."

She began to cry, and went away. I meant to follow her to her room; but
I felt unable to control myself, and I went home. I was seated, deep in
melancholy reflections, when Saveliitch suddenly came and interrupted
me.

"Here, sir," said he, handing me a sheet of paper all covered with
writing, "see if I be a spy on my master, and if I try to sow discord
betwixt father and son."

I took the paper from his hand; it was Saveliitch's reply to the letter
he had received. Here it is word for word--

"My lord, Andrej Petrovitch, our gracious father, I have received your
gracious letter, in which you deign to be angered with me, your serf,
bidding me be ashamed of not obeying my master's orders. And I, who am
not an old dog, but your faithful servant, I do obey my master's orders,
and I have ever served you zealously, even unto white hairs. I did not
write to you about Petr' Andrejitch's wound in order not to frighten you
without cause, and now we hear that our mistress, our mother, Avdotia
Vassilieva is ill of fright, and I shall go and pray heaven for her
health. Petr' Andrejitch has been wounded in the chest, beneath the
right shoulder, under one rib, to the depth of a _verchok_[48] and a
half, and he has been taken care of in the Commandant's house, whither
we brought him from the river bank, and it was the barber here, Stepan
Paramonoff, who treated him; and now Petr' Andrejitch, thank God, is
going on well, and there is nothing but good to tell of him. His
superiors, according to hearsay, are well pleased with him, and
Vassilissa Igorofna treats him as her own son; and because such an
affair should have happened to him you must not reproach him; the horse
may have four legs and yet stumble. And you deign to write that you will
send me to keep the pigs. My lord's will be done. And now I salute you
down to the ground.

"Your faithful serf,

"ARKHIP SAVELIEFF."

I could not help smiling once or twice as I read the good old man's
letter. I did not feel equal to writing to my father. And to make my
mother easy the letter of Saveliitch seemed to me amply sufficient.

From this day my position underwent a change. Marya Ivanofna scarcely
ever spoke to me, and even tried to avoid me. The Commandant's house
became unbearable to me; little by little I accustomed myself to stay
alone in my quarters.

At first Vassilissa Igorofna remonstrated, but, seeing I persisted in my
line of conduct, she left me in peace. I only saw Ivan Kouzmitch when
military duties brought us in contact. I had only rare interviews with
Chvabrine, whom I disliked the more that I thought I perceived in him a
secret enmity, which confirmed all the more my suspicions. Life became a
burden to me. I gave myself up, a prey to dark melancholy, which was
further fed by loneliness and inaction. My love burnt the more hotly for
my enforced quiet, and tormented me more and more. I lost all liking for
reading and literature. I was allowing myself to be completely cast
down, and I dreaded either becoming mad or dissolute, when events
suddenly occurred which strongly influenced my life, and gave my mind a
profound and salutary rousing.




CHAPTER VI.

PUGATCHEF.


Before beginning to relate those strange events to which I was witness,
I must say a few words about the state of affairs in the district of
Orenburg about the end of the year 1773. This rich and large province
was peopled by a crowd of half-savage tribes, who had lately
acknowledged the sovereignty of the Russian Tzars. Their perpetual
revolts, their impatience of all rule and civilized life, their
treachery and cruelty, obliged the authorities to keep a sharp watch
upon them in order to reduce them to submission.

Forts had been placed at suitable points, and in most of them troops
had been permanently established, composed of Cossacks, formerly
possessors of the banks of the River Yaik. But even these Cossacks, who
should have been a guarantee for the peace and quiet of the country, had
for some time shown a dangerous and unruly spirit towards the Imperial
Government. In 1772 a riot took place in the principal settlement. This
riot was occasioned by the severe measures taken by General Traubenberg,
in order to quell the insubordination of the army. The only result was
the barbarous murder of Traubenberg, the substitution of new chiefs, and
at last the suppression of the revolt by volleys of grape and harsh
penalties.

All this befell shortly before my coming to Fort Belogorsk. Then all
was, or seemed, quiet. But the authorities had too lightly lent faith
to the pretended repentance of the rebels, who were silently brooding
over their hatred, and only awaiting a favourable opportunity to reopen
the struggle.

One evening (it was early in October, 1773) I was alone in my quarters,
listening to the whistling of the autumn wind and watching the clouds
passing rapidly over the moon. A message came from the Commandant that
he wished to see me at once at his house. I found there Chvabrine, Iwan
Ignatiitch, and the "_ouriadnik_" of the Cossacks. Neither the wife nor
daughter of the Commandant was in the room. He greeted me in an absent
manner. Then, closing the door, he made everybody sit down, except the
"_ouriadnik_," who remained standing, drew a letter from his pocket, and
said to us--

"Gentlemen, important news. Listen to what the General writes."

He put on his spectacles and read as follows:--

"_To the Commandant of Fort Belogorsk,

"Captain Mironoff, these. (Secret.)_

"I hereby inform you that the fugitive and schismatic Don Cossack,
Emelian Pugatchef, after being guilty of the unpardonable insolence of
usurping the name of our late Emperor, Peter III.,[49] has assembled a
gang of robbers, excited risings in villages on the Yaik, and taken and
oven destroyed several forts, while committing everywhere robberies and
murders. In consequence, when you shall receive this, it will be your
duty to take such measures as may be necessary against the aforesaid
rascally usurper, and, if possible, crush him completely should he
venture to attack the fort confided to your care."

"Take such measures as may be necessary," said the Commandant, taking
off his spectacles and folding up the paper. "You know it is very easy
to say that. The scoundrel seems in force, and we have but a hundred and
thirty men, even counting the Cossacks, on whom we must not count too
much, be it said, without any reproach to you, Maximitch." The
"_ouriadnik_" smiled. "Nevertheless, let us do our duty, gentlemen. Be
ready, place sentries, let there be night patrols in case of attack,
shut the gates, and turn out the troops. You, Maximitch, keep a sharp
eye on the Cossacks; look to the cannon, and let it be well cleansed;
and, above all, let everything be kept secret. Let no one in the fort
know anything until the time comes."

After thus giving his orders, Ivan Kouzmitch dismissed us. I went out
with Chvabrine, speculating upon what we had just heard.

"What do you think of it? How will it all end?" I asked him.

"God knows," said he; "we shall see. As yet there is evidently nothing
serious. If, however--"

Then he fell into a brown study while whistling absently a French air.

In spite of all our precautions the news of Pugatchef's appearance
spread all over the fort. Whatever was the respect in which Ivan
Kouzmitch held his wife, he would not have revealed to her for the world
a secret confided to him on military business.

After receiving the General's letter he had rather cleverly got rid of
Vassilissa Igorofna by telling her that Father Garasim had heard most
extraordinary news from Orenburg, which he was keeping most profoundly
dark.

Vassilissa Igorofna instantly had a great wish to go and see the Pope's
wife, and, by the advice of Ivan Kouzmitch, she took Masha, lest she
should be dull all alone.

Left master of the field, Ivan Kouzmitch sent to fetch us at once, and
took care to shut up Polashka in the kitchen so that she might not spy
upon us.

Vassilissa Igorofna came home without having been able to worm anything
out of the Pope's wife; she learnt upon coming in that during her
absence Ivan Kouzmitch had held a council of war, and that Palashka had
been locked up. She suspected that her husband had deceived her, and she
immediately began overwhelming him with questions. But Ivan Kouzmitch
was ready for this onset; he did not care in the least, and he boldly
answered his curious better-half--

"Look here, little mother, the country-women have taken it into their
heads to light fires with straw, and as that might be the cause of a
misfortune, I assembled my officers, and I ordered them to watch that
the women do not make fires with straw, but rather with faggots and
brambles."

"And why were you obliged to shut up Polashka?" his wife asked him. "Why
was the poor girl obliged to stay in the kitchen till we came back?"

Ivan Kouzmitch was not prepared for such a question; he stammered some
incoherent words.

Vassilissa Igorofna instantly understood that her husband had deceived
her, but as she could not at that moment get anything out of him, she
forebore questioning him, and spoke of some pickled cucumbers which
Akoulina Pamphilovna knew how to prepare in a superlative manner. All
night long Vassilissa Igorofna lay awake trying to think what her
husband could have in his head that she was not permitted to know.

The morrow, on her return from mass, she saw Iwan Ignatiitch busy
clearing the cannon of the rags, small stones, bits of wood,
knuckle-bones, and all kinds of rubbish that the little boys had crammed
it with.

"What can these warlike preparations mean?" thought the Commandant's
wife. "Can it be that they are afraid of an attack by the Kirghiz; but
then is it likely that Ivan Kouzmitch would hide from me such a trifle?"

She called Iwan Ignatiitch, determined to have out of him the secret
which was provoking her feminine curiosity.

Vassilissa Igorofna began by making to him some remarks on household
matters, like a judge who begins a cross-examination by questions
irrelevant to the subject in hand, in order to reassure and lull the
watchfulness of the accused. Then, after a few minutes' silence, she
gave a deep sigh, and said, shaking her head--

"Oh! good Lord! Just think what news! What will come of all this?"

"Eh! my little mother," replied Iwan Ignatiitch; "the Lord is merciful.
We have soldiers enough, and much, powder; I have cleared the cannon.
Perhaps we may be able to defeat this Pugatchef. If God do not forsake
us, the wolf will eat none of us here."

"And what manner of man is this Pugatchef?" questioned the Commandant's
wife.

Iwan Ignatiitch saw plainly that he had said too much, and bit his
tongue; but it was too late. Vassilissa Igorofna obliged him to tell her
all, after giving her word that she would tell no one.

She kept her promise, and did not breathe a word indeed to anyone, save
only to the Pope's wife, and that for the very good reason that the good
lady's cow, being still out on the steppe, might be "lifted" by the
robbers.

Soon everybody was talking of Pugatchef. The rumours abroad about him
were very diverse. The Commandant sent the "_ouriadnik_" on a mission to
look well into all in the neighbouring village and little forts. The
"_ouriadnik_" came back after an absence of two days, and reported that
he had seen in the steppe, about sixty versts from the fort, many fires,
and that he had heard the Bashkirs say that an innumerable force was
approaching. He had nothing of a more detailed or accurate nature to
relate, having been afraid of going too far.

We soon began to notice a certain stir among the Cossacks in the
garrison. They gathered in all the streets in little groups, spoke among
themselves in low voices, and dispersed directly they caught sight of a
dragoon or any other Russian soldier. They were watched. Joulai, a
baptized Kalmuck, revealed to the Commandant something very serious.
According to him the "_ouriadnik_" had made a false report. On his
return the perfidious Cossack had told his comrades that he had advanced
upon the rebels, and that he had been presented to their chief, and that
this chief gave him his hand to kiss and had had a long interview with
him. At once the Commandant put the "_ouriadnik_" in arrest, and
declared Joulai his substitute. This change was received by the Cossacks
with manifest discontent. They grumbled aloud, and Iwan Ignatiitch, who
executed the Commandant's orders, heard them with his own ears say
pretty clearly--

"Only wait a bit, you garrison rat!"

The Commandant had intended to cross-examine his prisoner that same day,
but the "_ouriadnik_" had escaped, doubtless with the connivance of his
accomplices.

Another thing occurred to augment the Commandant's disquiet; a Bashkir
was taken bearing seditious letters. Upon this occasion the Commandant
decided upon assembling his officers anew, and in order to do that he
wished again to get rid of his wife under some plausible pretext. But as
Ivan Kouzmitch was one of the most upright and sincere of men he could
not think of any other way than that which he had already employed on a
previous occasion.

"Do you know, Vassilissa Igorofna," said he to her, while clearing his
throat once or twice, "it is said that Father Garosim has received from
the town--"

"Hold your tongue," interrupted his wife; "you want again to call a
council of war, and talk without me about Emelian Pugatchef; but you
will not deceive me this time."

Ivan Kouzmitch opened his eyes wide.

"Well, little mother," said he, "if you know all, stay; there is nothing
more to be done, we will talk before you."

"Yes, you are quite right, my little father," rejoined she; "it is of
no use your trying to play the sly fox. Send for the officers."

We again met. Ivan Kouzmitch read to us, before his wife, Pugatchef's
proclamation, drawn up by some illiterate Cossack. The robber proclaimed
his intention of marching directly upon our fort, inviting the Cossacks
and the soldiers to join him, and counselling the chiefs not to
withstand him, threatening them, should they do so, with the utmost
torture.

The proclamation was written in coarse but emphatic terms, and was
likely to produce a great impression on the minds of simple people.

"What a rascal," cried the Commandant's wife. "Just look what he dares
to propose to us! To go out to meet him and lay our colours at his feet!
Oh! the son of a dog! He doesn't then know that we have been forty
years in the service, and that, thank heaven, we have had a taste of all
sorts! Is it possible that there can have been commandants base and
cowardly enough to obey this robber?"

"Such a thing should not be possible," rejoined Ivan Kouzmitch;
"nevertheless, they say the scoundrel has already got possession of
several forts."

"It appears that he is in strength, indeed," observed Chvabrine.

"We shall know directly the amount of his strength," resumed the
Commandant. "Vassilissa Igorofna, give me the key of the barn. Ivan
Ignatiitch, bring up the Bashkir and tell Joulai to fetch the rods."[50]

"Wait a bit, Ivan Kouzmitch," said the Commandant's wife, rising; "let
me take Masha out of the house. Without I do so she would hear the
cries, and they would frighten her. And as for me, to tell the truth, I
am not over curious about such matters. So hoping to see you again--"

Torture was then so rooted in the practice of justice that the
beneficial ukase[51] ordaining its abolition remained a long time of
none effect. It was thought that the confession of the accused was
indispensable to condemnation, an idea not merely unreasonable, but
contrary to the dictates of the simplest good sense in legal matters,
for, if the denial of the accused be not accepted as proof of his
innocence, the extorted confession should still less serve as proof of
his guilt. Yet even now I still hear old judges sometimes regret the
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. Iwan
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 Ivan Kouzmitch. "Don't you
understand Russ? Joulai, ask him in your language who sent him to our
fort."

Joulai repeated Ivan Kouzmitch's question in the Tartar language. But
the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression, and spoke never a
word.

"Jachki!" the Commandant rapped out a Tartar oath, "I'll make you speak.
Here, Joulai, strip him of his striped dressing-gown, his idiot's dress,
and stripe his shoulders. Now then, Joulai, touch him up properly."

Two pensioners began undressing the Bashkir. Great uneasiness then
overspread the countenance of the unhappy man. He began looking all
round like a poor little animal in the hands of children. But when one
of the pensioners seized his hands in order to twine them round his
neck, and, stooping, upraised the old man on his shoulders, when Joulai
took the rods and lifted his hands to strike, then the Bashkir gave a
long, deep moan, and, throwing back his head, opened his mouth, wherein,
instead of a tongue, was moving a short stump.

We were all horrified.

"Well," said the Commandant, "I see we can get nothing out of him.
Joulai, take the Bashkir back to the barn; and as for us, gentlemen, we
have still to deliberate."

We were continuing to discuss our situation, when Vassilissa Igorofna
burst into the room, breathless, and looking affrighted.

"What has happened to you?" asked the Commandant, surprised.

"Misery! misery!" replied Vassilissa Igorofna. "Fort Nijneosern was
taken this morning. Father Garasim's boy has just come back. He saw how
it was taken. The Commandant and all the officers have been hanged, all
the soldiers are prisoners. The rascals are coming here."

This unexpected news made a great impression upon me. The Commandant of
Fort Nijneosern, a gentle and quiet young man, was known to me. Two
months previously he had passed on his way from Orenburg with his young
wife, and he had stayed with Ivan Kouzmitch.

The Nijneosernaia was only twenty-five versts away from our fort. From
hour to hour we might expect to be attacked by Pugatchef. The probable
fate of Marya Ivanofna rose vividly before my imagination, and my heart
failed me as I thought of it.

"Listen, Ivan Kouzmitch," I said to the Commandant, "it is our duty to
defend the fort to the last gasp, that is understood. But we must think
of the women's safety. Send them to Orenburg, if the road be still open,
or to some fort further off and safer, which the rascals have not yet
had time to reach."

Ivan Kouzmitch turned to his wife.

"Look here, mother, really, had we not better send you away to some more
distant place till the rebels be put down?"

"What nonsense!" replied his wife.

"Show me the fortress that bullets cannot reach. In what respect is
Belogorskaia not safe? Thank heaven, we have now lived here more than
twenty-one years. We have seen the Bashkirs and the Kirghiz; perhaps we
may weary out Pugatchef here."

"Well, little mother," rejoined Ivan Kouzmitch, "stay if you like, since
you reckon so much on our fort. But what are we to do with Masha? It is
all right if we weary him out or if we be succoured. But if the robbers
take the fort?"

"Well, then--"

But here Vassilissa Igorofna could only stammer and become silent,
choked by emotion.

"No, Vassilissa Igorofna," resumed the Commandant, who remarked that his
words had made a great impression on his wife, perhaps for the first
time in her life; "it is not proper for Masha to stay here. Let us send
her to Orenburg to her godmother. There are enough soldiers and cannons
there, and the walls are stone. And I should even advise you to go away
thither, for though you be old yet think on what will befall you if the
fort be taken by assault."

"Well! well!" said the wife, "we will send away Masha; but don't ask me
to go away, and don't think to persuade me, for I will do no such thing.
It will not suit me either in my old age to part from you and go to seek
a lonely grave in a strange land. We have lived together; we will die
together."

"And you are right," said the Commandant. "Let us see, there is no time
to lose. Go and get Masha ready for her journey; to-morrow we will start
her off at daybreak, and we will even give her an escort, though, to
tell the truth, we have none too many people here. But where is she?"

"At Akoulina Pamphilovna's," answered his wife. "She turned sick when
she heard of the taking of Nijneosern; I dread lest she should fall
ill. Oh! God in heaven! that we should have lived to see this!"

Vassilissa Igorofna went away to make ready for her daughter's
departure.

The council at the Commandant's still continued, but I no longer took
any part in it. Marya Ivanofna reappeared for supper, pale and her eyes
red. We supped in silence, and we rose from table earlier than usual.
Each of us returned to his quarters after bidding good-bye to the whole
family. I purposely forgot my sword, and came back to fetch it. I felt I
should find Marya alone; in fact, she met me in the porch, and handed me
my sword.

"Good-bye, Petr' Andrejitch," she said to me, crying; "they are sending
me to Orenburg. Keep well and happy. Mayhap God will allow us to see one
another again, if not--"

She began to sob. I pressed her in my arms.

"God be with you, my angel," I said to her. "My darling, my loved one,
whatever befall me, rest assured that my last thought and my last prayer
will be for you."

Masha still wept, sheltered on my breast. I kissed her passionately, and
abruptly went out.




CHAPTER VII.

THE ASSAULT.


All the night I could not sleep, and I did not even take off my clothes.
I had meant in the early morning to gain the gate of the fort, by which
Marya Ivanofna was to leave, to bid her a last good-bye. I felt that a
complete change had come over me. The agitation of my mind seemed less
hard to bear than the dark melancholy in which I had been previously
plunged. Blended with the sorrow of parting, I felt within me vague, but
sweet, hopes, an eager expectation of coming dangers, and a feeling of
noble ambition.

The night passed quickly. I was going out, when my door opened and the
corporal came in to tell me that our Cossacks had left the fort during
the night, taking away with them by force Joulai, and that around our
ramparts unknown people were galloping. The thought that Marya Ivanofna
had not been able to get away terrified me to death. I hastily gave some
orders to the corporal, and I ran to the Commandant's house.

Day was breaking. I was hurrying down the street when I heard myself
called by someone. I stopped.

"Where are you going, if I may presume to ask you?" said Iwan
Ignatiitch, catching me up. "Ivan Kouzmitch is on the ramparts, and has
sent me to seek you. The '_pugatch_'[52] has come."

"Is Marya Ivanofna gone?" I asked, with an inward trembling.

"She hasn't had time," rejoined Iwan Ignatiitch. "The road to Orenburg
is blocked, the fort surrounded, and it's a bad look-out, Petr'
Andrejitch."

We went to the ramparts, a little natural height, and fortified by a
palisade. We found the garrison here under arms. The cannon had been
dragged hither the preceding evening. The Commandant was walking up and
down before his little party; the approach of danger had given the old
warrior wonderful activity. Out on the steppe, and not very far from the
fort, could be seen about twenty horsemen, who appeared to be Cossacks;
but amongst them were some Bashkirs, easily distinguished by their high
caps and their quivers. The Commandant passed down the ranks of the
little army, saying to the soldiers--

"Now, children, let us do well to-day for our mother, the Empress, and
let us show all the world that we are brave men, and true to our
oaths."

The soldiers by loud shouts expressed their goodwill and assent.
Chvabrine remained near me, attentively watching the enemy. The people
whom we could see on the steppe, noticing doubtless some stir in the
fort, gathered into parties, and consulted together. The Commandant
ordered Iwan Ignatiitch to point the cannon at them, and himself applied
the match. The ball passed whistling over their heads without doing them
any harm. The horsemen at once dispersed at a gallop, and the steppe was
deserted.

At this moment Vassilissa Igorofna appeared on the ramparts, followed by
Marya, who had not wished to leave her.

"Well," said the Commandant's wife, "how goes the battle? Where is the
enemy?"

"The enemy is not far," replied Ivan Kouzmitch; "but if God wills all
will be well. And you, Masha, are you afraid?"

"No, papa," replied Marya, "I am more frightened alone in the house."

She glanced at me, trying to smile. I squeezed the hilt of my sword,
remembering that I had received it the eve from her hand, as if for her
defence. My heart burnt within my breast; I felt as if I were her
knight; I thirsted to prove to her that I was worthy of her trust, and I
impatiently expected the decisive moment.

All at once, coming from a height about eight versts from the fort,
appeared fresh parties of horsemen, and soon the whole steppe became
covered with people, armed with arrows and lances. Amongst them, dressed
in a red caftan, sword in hand, might be seen a man mounted on a white
horse, a conspicuous figure. This was Pugatchef himself.

He stopped, and they closed round him, and soon afterwards, probably by
his orders, four men came out of the crowd, and approached our ramparts
at full gallop. We recognized in them some of our traitors. One of them
waved a sheet of paper above his head; another bore on the point of his
pike the head of Joulai, which he cast to us over the palisade. The head
of the poor Kalmuck rolled to the feet of the Commandant.

The traitors shouted to us--

"Don't fire. Come out to receive the Tzar; the Tzar is here."

"Children, fire!" cried the Commandant for all answer.

The soldiers fired a volley. The Cossack who had the letter quivered and
fell from his horse; the others fled at full speed. I glanced at Marya
Ivanofna. Spellbound with horror at the sight of Joulai's head, stunned
by the noise of the volley, she seemed unconscious. The Commandant
called the corporal, and bid him go and take the paper from the fallen
Cossack. The corporal went out into the open, and came back leading by
its bridle the dead man's horse. He gave the letter to the Commandant.

Ivan Kouzmitch read it in a low voice, and tore it into bits. We now saw
that the rebels were making ready to attack. Soon the bullets whistled
about our ears, and some arrows came quivering around us in the earth
and in the posts of the palisade.

"Vassilissa Igorofna," said the Commandant, "this is not a place for
women. Take away Masha; you see very well that the girl is more dead
than alive."

Vassilissa Igorofna, whom the sound of the bullets had somewhat subdued,
glanced towards the steppe, where a great stir was visible in the crowd,
and said to her husband--

"Ivan Kouzmitch, life and death are in God's hands; bless Masha. Masha,
go to your father."

Pale and trembling, Marya approached Ivan Kouzmitch and dropped on her
knees, bending before him with reverence.

The old Commandant made the sign of the cross three times over her, then
raised her up, kissed her, and said to her, in a voice husky with
emotion--

"Well, Masha, may you be happy. Pray to God, and He will not forsake
you. If an honest man come forward, may God grant you both love and
wisdom. Live together as we have lived, my wife and I. And now farewell,
Masha. Vassilissa Igorofna, take her away quickly."

Marya threw herself upon his neck and began sobbing.

"Kiss me, too," said the Commandant's wife, weeping. "Good-bye, my Ivan
Kouzmitch. Forgive me if I have ever vexed you."

"Good-bye, good-bye, little mother," said the Commandant, embracing his
old companion. "There, now, enough; go away home, and if you have time
put Masha on a '_sarafan_.'"[53]

The Commandant's wife went away with her daughter. I followed Marya with
my eyes; she turned round and made me a last sign.

Ivan Kouzmitch came back to us, and turned his whole attention to the
enemy. The rebels gathered round their leader, and all at once
dismounted hastily.

"Be ready," the Commandant said to us, "the assault is about to begin."

At the same moment resounded wild war cries. The rebels were racing down
on the fort. Our cannon was loaded with grape. The Commandant allowed
them to approach within a very short distance, and again applied a
match to the touch-hole. The grape struck in the midst of the crowd, and
dispersed it in every direction. The leader alone remained to the fore,
brandishing his sword; he appeared to be exhorting them hotly. The yells
which had ceased for a moment were redoubled anew.

"Now, children," cried the Commandant, "open the door, beat the drum,
and forward! Follow me for a sally!"

The Commandant, Iwan Ignatiitch, and I found ourselves in a moment
beyond the parapet. But the garrison, afraid, had not stirred.

"What are you doing, my children?" shouted Ivan Kouzmitch. "If we must
die, let us die; it is our duty."

At this moment the rebels fell upon us and forced the entrance of the
citadel. The drum ceased, the garrison threw down its arms. I had been
thrown down, but I got up and passed helter-skelter with the crowd into
the fort. I saw the Commandant wounded in the head, and hard pressed by
a little band of robbers clamouring for the keys. I was running to help
him, when several strong Cossacks seized me, and bound me with their
"_kuchaks_,"[54] shouting--

"Wait a bit, you will see what will become of you traitors to the Tzar!"

We were dragged along the streets. The inhabitants came out of their
houses, offering bread and salt. The bells were rung. All at once shouts
announced that the Tzar was in the square waiting to receive the oaths
of the prisoners. All the crowd diverged in that direction, and our
keepers dragged us thither.

Pugatchef was seated in an armchair on the threshold of the Commandant's
house. He wore an elegant Cossack caftan, embroidered down the seams. A
high cap of marten sable, ornamented with gold tassels, came closely
down over his flashing eyes. His face did not seem unknown to me. The
Cossack chiefs surrounded him. Father Garasim, pale and trembling, was
standing, cross in hand, at the foot of the steps, and seemed to be
silently praying for the victims brought before him. In the square a
gallows was being hastily erected. When we came near, some Bashkirs
drove back the crowd, and we were presented to Pugatchef.

The bells ceased clanging, and the deepest silence reigned again.

"Where is the Commandant?" asked the usurper. Our "_ouriadnik_" came
forward and pointed out Ivan Kouzmitch. Pugatchef looked fiercely upon
the old man and said to him, "How was it you dared to oppose me, your
rightful Emperor?"

The Commandant, enfeebled by his wound, collected his remaining
strength, and replied, in a resolute tone--

"You are not my Emperor; you are a usurper and a robber!"

Pugatchef frowned and waved his white handkerchief. Several Cossacks
immediately seized the old Commandant and dragged him away to the
gallows. Astride on the crossbeam, sat the disfigured Bashkir who had
been cross-examined on the preceding evening; he held a rope in his
hand, and I saw the next moment poor Ivan Kouzmitch swinging in the air.
Then Iwan Ignatiitch was brought before Pugatchef.

"Swear fidelity," Pugatchef said to him, "to the Emperor, Petr'
Fedorovitch!"[55]

"You are not our Emperor!" replied the lieutenant, repeating his
Commandant's words; "you are a robber, my uncle, and a usurper."

Pugatchef again gave the handkerchief signal, and good Iwan Ignatiitch
swung beside his old chief. It was my turn. Boldly I looked on Pugatchef
and made ready to echo the answer of my outspoken comrades.

Then, to my inexpressible surprise, I saw among the rebels Chvabrine,
who had found time to cut his hair short and to put on a Cossack caftan.
He approached Pugatchef, and whispered a few words in his ear.

"Hang him!" said Pugatchef, without deigning to throw me a look. The
rope was passed about my neck. I began saying a prayer in a low voice,
offering up to God a sincere repentance for all my sins, imploring Him
to save all those who were dear to my heart. I was already at the foot
of the gallows.

"Fear nothing! Fear nothing!" the assassins said to me, perhaps to give
me courage, when all at once a shout was heard--

"Stop, accursed ones!"

The executioners stayed their hand. I looked up. Saveliitch lay
prostrate at the feet of Pugatchef.

"Oh! my own father!" my poor follower was saying. "What need have you of
the death of this noble child? Let him go free, and you will get a good
ransom; but for an example and to frighten the rest, let them hang me,
an old man!"

Pugatchef gave a signal; I was immediately unbound.

"Our father shows you mercy," they said to me. At this moment I cannot
say that I was much overjoyed at my deliverance, but I cannot say either
that I regretted it, for my feelings were too upset. I was again brought
before the usurper and forced to kneel at his feet. Pugatchef held out
to me his muscular hand. "Kiss his hand! kiss his hand!" was shouted
around me. But rather would I have preferred the most cruel torture to
such an abasement.

"My father, Petr' Andrejitch," whispered Saveliitch to me, and nudged me
with his elbow, "don't be obstinate. What does it matter? Spit and kiss
the hand of the rob--, kiss his hand!"

I did not stir. Pugatchef withdrew his hand and said, smiling--

"Apparently his lordship is quite idiotic with joy; raise him."

I was helped up and left free. The infamous drama drew to a close.

The villagers began to swear fidelity. One after another they came near,
kissed the cross, and saluted the usurper. Then it came to the turn of
the soldiers of the garrison. The tailor of the company, armed with his
big blunt scissors, cut off their queues. They shook their heads and
touched their lips to Pugatchef's hand; the latter told them they were
pardoned and enrolled amongst his troops.

All this lasted about three hours. At last Pugatchef rose from his
armchair and went down the steps, followed by his chiefs. There was
brought for him a white horse, richly caparisoned. Two Cossacks held his
arms and helped him into the saddle.

He announced to Father Garasim that he would dine at his house. At this
moment arose a woman's heartrending shrieks. Some robbers were dragging
to the steps Vassilissa Igorofna, with dishevelled hair and
half-dressed. One of them had already appropriated her cloak; the others
were carrying off the mattresses, boxes, linen, tea sets, and all manner
of things.

"Oh, my fathers!" cried the poor old woman. "Let me alone, I pray you;
my fathers, my fathers, bring me to Ivan Kouzmitch." All of a sudden
she perceived the gallows and recognized her husband. "Villains!" she
exclaimed, beside herself; "what have you done? Oh, my light, my Ivan
Kouzmitch! Bold soldier heart, neither Prussian bayonets nor Turkish
bullets ever harmed you; and you have died before a vile runaway felon."

"Silence the old witch," said Pugatchef.

A young Cossack struck her with his sword on the head, and she fell dead
at the foot of the steps. Pugatchef went away, all the people crowding
in his train.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE UNEXPECTED VISIT.


The square remained empty. I stood in the same place, unable to collect
my thoughts, disturbed by so many terrible events.

My uncertainty about Marya Ivanofna's fate tormented me more than I can
say. Where was she? What had become of her? Had she had time to hide
herself? Was her place of refuge safe and sure? Full of these oppressive
thoughts, I went to the Commandant's house. All was empty. The chairs,
the tables, the presses were burned, and the crockery in bits; the
place was in dreadful disorder. I quickly ran up the little stair which
led to Marya's room, where I was about to enter for the first time in my
life.

Her bed was topsy-turvy, the press open and ransacked. A lamp still
burned before the "_kivott_"[56] equally empty; but a small
looking-glass hanging between the door and window had not been taken
away. What had become of the inmate of this simple maiden's cell? A
terrible apprehension crossed my mind. I thought of Marya in the hands
of the robbers. My heart failed me; I burst into tears and murmured the
name of my loved one. At this moment I heard a slight noise, and
Polashka, very pale, came out from behind the press.

"Oh, Petr' Andrejitch," said she, wringing her hands; "what a day, what
horrors!"

"Marya Ivanofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivanofna?"

"The young lady is alive," replied Polashka; "she is hidden at Akoulina
Pamphilovna's."

"In the pope's house!" I exclaimed, affrighted. "Good God! Pugatchef is
there!"

I rushed out of the room, in two jumps I was in the street and running
wildly towards the pope's house. From within there resounded songs,
shouts, and bursts of laughter; Pugatchef was at the table with his
companions. Polashka had followed me; I sent her secretly to call aside
Akoulina Pamphilovna. The next minute the pope's wife came out into the
ante-room, an empty bottle in her hand.

"In heaven's name where is Marya Ivanofna?" I asked, with indescribable
agitation.

"She is in bed, the little dove," replied the pope's wife, "in my bed,
behind the partition. Ah! Petr' Andrejitch, a misfortune very nearly
happened. But, thank God, all has passed happily over. The villain had
scarcely sat down to table before the poor darling began to moan. I
nearly died of fright. He heard her."

"'Who is that moaning, old woman?' said he.

"I saluted the robber down to the ground.

"'My niece, Tzar; she has been ill and in bed for more than a week.'

"'And your niece, is she young?'

"'She is young, Tzar.'

"'Let us see, old woman; show me your niece.'

"I felt my heart fail me; but what could I do?

"'Very well, Tzar; but the girl is not strong enough to rise and come
before your grace.'

"'That's nothing, old woman; I'll go myself and see her.'

"And, would you believe it, the rascal actually went behind the
partition. He drew aside the curtain, looked at her with his hawk's
eyes, and nothing more; God helped us. You may believe me when I say the
father and I were already prepared to die the death of martyrs. Luckily
the little dove did not recognize him. O, Lord God! what have we lived
to see! Poor Ivan Kouzmitch! who would have thought it! And Vassilissa
Igorofna and Iwan Ignatiitch! Why him too? And you, how came it that you
were spared? And what do you think of Chvabrine, of Alexy Ivanytch? He
has cut his hair short, and he is there having a spree with them. He is
a sly fox, you'll agree. And when I spoke of my sick niece, would you
believe it, he looked at me as if he would like to run me through with
his knife. Still, he did not betray us, and I'm thankful to him for
that!"

At this moment up rose the vinous shouts of the guests and the voice of
Father Garasim. The guests wanted more wine, and the pope was calling
his wife.

"Go home, Petr' Andrejitch," she said to me, in great agitation, "I have
something else to do than chatter to you. Some ill will befall you if
you come across any of them now. Good-bye, Petr' Andrejitch. What must
be, must be; and it may be God will not forsake us."

The pope's wife went in; a little relieved, I returned to my quarters.
Crossing the square I saw several Bashkirs crowding round the gallows in
order to tear off the high boots of the hanged men. With difficulty I
forbore showing my anger, which I knew would be wholly useless.

The robbers pervaded the fort, and were plundering the officers'
quarters, and the shouts of the rebels making merry were heard
everywhere. I went home. Saveliitch met me on the threshold.

"Thank heaven!" cried he, upon seeing me, "I thought the villains had
again laid hold on you. Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch, would you
believe it, the robbers have taken everything from us: clothes, linen,
crockery and goods; they have left nothing. But what does it matter?
Thank God that they have at least left you your life! But oh! my master,
did you recognize their '_ataman_?'"[57]

"No, I did not recognize him. Who is he?"

"What, my little father, you have already forgotten the drunkard who
did you out of your '_touloup_' the day of the snowstorm, a hareskin
'_touloup_,' brand new. And he, the rascal, who split all the seams
putting it on."

I was dumbfounded. The likeness of Pugatchef to my guide was indeed
striking. I ended by feeling certain that he and Pugatchef were one and
the same man, and I then understood why he had shown me mercy. I was
filled with astonishment at the extraordinary connection of events. A
boy's "_touloup_," given to a vagabond, saved my neck from the hangman,
and a drunken frequenter of pothouses besieged forts and shook the
Empire.

"Will you not eat something?" asked Saveliitch, faithful to his old
habits. "There is nothing in the house, it is true; but I shall look
about everywhere, and I will get something ready for you."

Left alone, I began to reflect. What could I do? To stay in the fort,
which was now in the hands of the robber, or to join his band were
courses alike unworthy of an officer. Duty prompted me to go where I
could still be useful to my country in the critical circumstances in
which it was now situated.

But my love urged me no less strongly to stay by Marya Ivanofna, to be
her protector and her champion. Although I foresaw a new and inevitable
change in the state of things, yet I could not help trembling as I
thought of the dangers of her situation.

My reflections were broken by the arrival of a Cossack, who came running
to tell me that the great Tzar summoned me to his presence.

"Where is he?" I asked, hastening to obey.

"In the Commandant's house," replied the Cossack. "After dinner our
father went to the bath; now he is resting. Ah, sir! you can see he is a
person of importance--he deigned at dinner to eat two roast
sucking-pigs; and then he went into the upper part of the vapour-bath,
where it was so hot that Tarass Kurotchkin himself could not stand it;
he passed the broom to Bikbaieff, and only recovered by dint of cold
water. You must agree; his manners are very majestic, and in the bath,
they say, he showed his marks of Tzar--on one of his breasts a
double-headed eagle as large as a petak,[58] and on the other his own
face."

I did not think it worth while to contradict the Cossack, and I followed
him into the Commandant's house, trying to imagine beforehand my
interview with Pugatchef, and to guess how it would end.

The reader will easily believe me when I say that I did not feel wholly
reassured.

It was getting dark when I reached the house of the Commandant.

The gallows, with its victims, stood out black and terrible; the body of
the Commandant's poor wife still lay beneath the porch, close by two
Cossacks, who were on guard.

He who had brought me went in to announce my arrival. He came back
almost directly, and ushered me into the room where, the previous
evening, I had bidden good-bye to Marya Ivanofna.

I saw a strange scene before me. At a table covered with a cloth and
laden with bottles and glasses was seated Pugatchef, surrounded by ten
Cossack chiefs, in high caps and coloured shirts, heated by wine, with
flushed faces and sparkling eyes. I did not see among them the new
confederates lately sworn in, the traitor Chvabrine and the
"_ouriadnik_."

"Ah, ah! so it is you, your lordship," said Pugatchef, upon seeing me.
"You are welcome. All honour to you, and a place at our feast."

The guests made room. I sat down in silence at the end of the table.

My neighbour, a tall and slender young Cossack, with a handsome face,
poured me out a bumper of brandy, which I did not touch. I was busy
noting the company.

Pugatchef was seated in the place of honour, his elbows on the table,
and resting his black beard on his broad fist. His features, regular and
agreeable, wore no fierce expression. He often addressed a man of about
fifty years old, calling him sometimes Count, sometimes Timofeitsh,
sometimes Uncle.

Each man considered himself as good as his fellow, and none showed any
particular deference to their chief. They were talking of the morning's
assault, of the success of the revolt, and of their forthcoming
operations.

Each man bragged of his prowess, proclaimed his opinions, and freely
contradicted Pugatchef. And it was decided to march upon Orenburg, a
bold move, which was nearly crowned with success. The departure was
fixed for the day following.

The guests drank yet another bumper, rose from table, and took leave of
Pugatchef. I wished to follow them, but Pugatchef said--

"Stay there, I wish to speak to you!"

We remained alone together, and for a few moments neither spoke.

Pugatchef looked sharply at me, winking from time to time his left eye
with an indefinable expression of slyness and mockery. At last he gave
way to a long burst of laughter, and that with such unfeigned gaiety
that I myself, regarding him, began to laugh without knowing why.

"Well, your lordship," said he, "confess you were afraid when my fellows
cast the rope about your neck. I warrant the sky seemed to you the size
of a sheepskin. And you would certainly have swung beneath the
cross-beam but for your old servant. I knew the old owl again directly.
Well, would you ever have thought, sir, that the man who guided you to a
lodging in the steppe was the great Tzar himself?" As he said these
words he assumed a grave and mysterious air. "You are very guilty as
regards me," resumed he, "but I have pardoned you on account of your
courage, and because you did me a good turn when I was obliged to hide
from my enemies. But you shall see better things; I will load you with
other favours when I shall have recovered my empire. Will you promise to
serve me zealously?"

The robber's question and his impudence appeared to be so absurd that I
could not restrain a smile.

"Why do you laugh?" he asked, frowning. "Do you not believe me to be the
great Tzar? Answer me frankly."

I did not know what to do. I could not recognize a vagabond as Emperor;
such conduct was to me unpardonably base. To call him an impostor to his
face was to devote myself to death; and the sacrifice for which I was
prepared on the gallows, before all the world, and in the first heat of
my indignation, appeared to me a useless piece of bravado. I knew not
what to say.

Pugatchef awaited my reply in fierce silence. At last (and I yet recall
that moment with satisfaction) the feeling of duty triumphed in me over
human weakness, and I made reply to Pugatchef--

"Just listen, and I will tell you the whole truth. You shall be judge.
Can I recognize in you a Tzar? You are a clever man; you would see
directly that I was lying."

"Who, then, am I, according to you?"

"God alone knows; but whoever you be, you are playing a dangerous game."

Pugatchef cast at me a quick, keen glance.

"You do not then think that I am the Tzar Peter? Well, so let it be. Is
there no chance of success for the bold? In former times did not
Grischka Otrepieff[59] reign? Think of me as you please, but do not
leave me. What does it matter to you whether it be one or the other? He
who is pope is father. Serve me faithfully, and I will make you a
field-marshal and a prince. What do you say to this?"

"No," I replied, firmly. "I am a gentleman. I have sworn fidelity to Her
Majesty the Tzarina; I cannot serve you. If you really wish me well,
send me back to Orenburg."

Pugatchef reflected.

"But if I send you away," said he, "will you promise me at least not to
bear arms against me?"

"How can you expect me to promise you that?" replied I. "You know
yourself that that does not depend upon me. If I be ordered to march
against you I must submit. You are a chief now--you wish your
subordinates to obey you. How can I refuse to serve if I am wanted? My
head is at your disposal; if you let me go free, I thank you; if you
cause me to die, may God judg