The drum awoke me very early, and I went to the Square. There the troops of Pugatchéf were beginning to gather round the gallows where the victims of the preceding evening still hung. The Cossacks were on horseback, the foot-soldiers with their arms shouldered, their colours flying in the air.
Several cannons, among which I recognized ours, were placed on field-gun carriages. All the inhabitants had assembled in the same place, awaiting the usurper. Before the door of the Commandant's house a Cossack held by the bridle a magnificent white horse of Kirghiz breed. I sought with my eyes the body of the Commandant's wife; it had been pushed aside and covered over with an old bark mat.
At last Pugatchéf came out of the house. All the crowd uncovered. Pugatchéf stopped on the doorstep and said good-morning to everybody. One of the chiefs handed him a bag filled with small pieces of copper, which he began to throw broadcast among the people, who rushed to pick them up, fighting for them with blows.
The principal confederates of Pugatchéf surrounded him. Among them was Chvabrine. Our eyes met; he could read contempt in mine, and he looked away with an expression of deep hatred and pretended mockery. Seeing me in the crowd Pugatchéf beckoned to me and called me up to him.
"Listen," said he, "start this very minute for Orenburg. You will tell the governor and all the generals from me that they may expect me in a week. Advise them to receive me with submission and filial love; if not, they will not escape a terrible punishment. A good journey, to your lordship."
Then turning to the people, he pointed out Chvabrine.
"There, children," said he, "is your new Commandant; obey him in all things; he answers to me for you and the fort."
I heard these words with affright. Chvabrine become master of the place! Marya remained in his power! Good God! what would become of her? Pugatchéf came down the steps, his horse was brought round, he sprang quickly into the saddle, without waiting for the help of the Cossacks prepared to aid him.
At this moment I saw my Savéliitch come out of the crowd, approach Pugatchéf, and present him with a sheet of paper. I could not think what it all meant.
"What is it?" asked Pugatchéf, with dignity.
"Deign to read it, and you will see," replied Savéliitch.
Pugatchéf took the paper and looked at it a long time with an air of importance. At last he said—
"You write very illegibly; our lucid60eyes cannot make out anything. Where is our Chief Secretary?"
A youth in a corporal's uniform ran up to Pugatchéf.
"Read it aloud," the usurper said to him, handing him the paper.
I was extremely curious to know on what account my retainer had thought of writing to Pugatchéf. The Chief Secretary began in a loud voice, spelling out what follows—
"Two dressing gowns, one cotton, the other striped silk, six roubles."
"What does that mean?" interrupted Pugatchéf, frowning.
"Tell him to read further," rejoined Savéliitch, quite unmoved.
The Chief Secretary continued to read—
"One uniform of fine green cloth, seven roubles; one pair trousers, white cloth, five roubles; twelve shirts of Holland shirting, with cuffs, ten roubles; one box with tea service, two-and-a-half roubles."
"What is all this nonsense?" cried Pugatchéf. "What do these tea-boxes and breeches with cuffs matter to me?"
Savéliitch cleared his throat with a cough, and set to work to explain matters.
"Let my father condescend to understand that that is the bill of my master's goods which have been taken away by the rascals."
"What rascals?" quoth Pugatchéf, in a fierce and terrible manner.
"Beg pardon, my tongue played me false," replied Savéliitch. "Rascals, no they are not rascals; but still your fellows have well harried and well robbed, you must agree. Do not get angry; the horse has four legs, and yet he stumbles. Bid him read to the end."
"Well, let us see, read on," said Pugatchéf.
The Secretary continued—
"One chintz rug, another of wadded silk, four roubles; one pelisse fox skin lined with red ratteen, forty roubles; and lastly, a small hareskin 'touloup,' which was left in the hands of your lordship in the wayside house on the steppe, fifteen roubles."
"What's that?" cried Pugatchéf, whose eyes suddenly sparkled.
I confess I was in fear for my poor follower. He was about to embark on new explanations when Pugatchéf interrupted him.
"How dare you bother me with such nonsense?" cried he, snatching the paper out of the hands of the Secretary and throwing it in Savéliitch's face. "Foolish old man, you have been despoiled; well, what does it signify. But, old owl, you should eternally pray God for me and my lads that you and your master do not swing up there with the other rebels. A hareskin 'touloup!' Hark ye, I'll have you flayed alive that 'touloups' may be made of your skin."
"As it may please you!" replied Savéliitch. "But I am not a free man, and I must answer for my lord's goods."
Pugatchéf was apparently in a fit of high-mindedness. He turned aside his head, and went off without another word. Chvabrine and the chiefs followed him. All the band left the fort in order. The people escorted it.
I remained alone in the square with Savéliitch. My follower held in his hand the memorandum, and was contemplating it with an air of deep regret. Seeing my friendly understanding with Pugatchéf, he had thought to turn it to some account. But his wise hope did not succeed. I was going to scold him sharply for his misplaced zeal, and I could not help laughing.
"Laugh, sir, laugh," said Savéliitch; "but when you are obliged to fit up your household anew, we shall see if you still feel disposed to laugh."
I ran to the pope's house to see Marya Ivánofna. The pope's wife came to meet me with a sad piece of news. During the night high fever had set in, and the poor girl was now delirious. Akoulina Pamphilovna brought me to her room. I gently approached the bed. I was struck by the frightful change in her face. The sick girl did not know me. Motionless before her, it was long ere I understood the words of Father Garasim and his wife, who apparently were trying to comfort me.
Gloomy thoughts overwhelmed me. The position of a poor orphan left solitary and friendless in the power of rascals filled me with fear, while my own powerlessness equally distressed me; but Chvabrine, Chvabrine above all, filled me with alarm. Invested with all power by the usurper, and left master in the fort, with the unhappy girl, the object of his hatred, he was capable of anything. What should I do? How could I help her? How deliver her? Only in one way, and I embraced it. It was to start with all speed for Orenburg, so as to hasten the recapture of Bélogorsk, and to aid in it if possible.
I took leave of the pope and of Akoulina Pamphilovna, recommending warmly to them her whom I already regarded as my wife. I seized the hand of the young girl and covered it with tears and kisses.
"Good-bye," the pope's wife said to me, as she led me away. "Good-bye, Petr' Andréjïtch; perhaps we may meet again in happier times. Don't forget us, and write often to us. Except you, poor Marya Ivánofna has no longer stay or comforter."
Out in the Square I stopped a minute before the gallows, which I respectfully saluted, and I then took the road to Orenburg, accompanied by Savéliitch, who did not forsake me.
As I thus went along, deep in thought, I heard all at once a horse galloping behind me. I turned round, and saw a Cossack coming up from the fort, leading a Bashkir horse, and making signs to me from afar to wait for him. I stopped, and soon recognized our "ouriadnik."
After joining us at a gallop, he jumped from the back of his own horse, and handing me the bridle of the other—
"Your lordship," said he, "our father makes you a present of a horse, and a pelisse from his own shoulder." On the saddle was slung a plain sheepskin "touloup." "And, besides," added he, hesitatingly, "he gives you a half-rouble, but I have lost it by the way; kindly excuse it."
Savéliitch looked askance at him.
"You have lost it by the way," said he, "and pray what is that which jingles in your pocket, barefaced liar that you are?"
"Jingling in my pocket?" replied the "ouriadnik," not a whit disconcerted; "God forgive you, old man, 'tis a bridlebit, and never a half rouble."
"Well! well!" said I, putting an end to the dispute. "Thank from me he who sent you: and you may as well try as you go back to find the lost half rouble and keep it for yourself."
"Many thanks, your lordship," said he, turning his horse round; "I will pray God for ever for you."
With these words, he started off at a gallop, keeping one hand on his pocket, and was soon out of sight. I put on the "touloup" and mounted the horse, taking up Savéliitch behind me.
"Don't you see, your lordship," said the old man, "that it was not in vain that I presented my petition to the robber? The robber was ashamed of himself, although this long and lean Bashkir hoss and this peasant's 'touloup' be not worth half what those rascals stole from us, nor what you deigned to give him as a present, still they may be useful to us. 'From an evil dog be glad of a handful of hairs.'"
As we approached Orenburg we saw a crowd of convicts with cropped heads, and faces disfigured by the pincers of the executioner.61
They were working on the fortifications of the place under the pensioners of the garrison. Some were taking away in wheelbarrows the rubbish which filled the ditch; others were hollowing out the earth with spades. Masons were bringing bricks and repairing the walls.
The sentries stopped us at the gates to demand our passports.
When the Sergeant learnt that we came from Fort Bélogorsk he took us direct to the General.
I found him in his garden. He was examining the apple-trees which the breath of autumn had already deprived of their leaves, and, with the help of an old gardener, he was enveloping them in straw. His face expressed calm, good-humour and health.
He seemed very pleased to see me, and began to question me on the terrible events which I had witnessed. I related them.
The old man heard me with attention, and, while listening, cut the dead branches.
"Poor Mironoff!" said he, when I had done my sad story; "'tis a pity! he was a goot officer! And Matame Mironoff, she was a goot lady and first-rate at pickled mushrooms. And what became of Masha, the Captain's daughter?"
I replied that she had stayed in the fort, at the pope's house.
"Aïe! aïe! aïe!" said the General. "That's bad! very bad; it is quite impossible to count on the discipline of robbers."
I drew his attention to the fact that Fort Bélogorsk was not very far away, and that probably his excellency would not delay dispatching a detachment of troops to deliver the poor inhabitants.
The General shook his head with an air of indecision—
"We shall see! we shall see!" said he, "we have plenty of time to talk about it. I beg you will come and take tea with me. This evening there will be a council of war; you can give us exact information about that rascal Pugatchéf and his army. Now in the meantime go and rest."
I went away to the lodging that had been assigned me, and where Savéliitch was already installed. There I impatiently awaited the hour fixed.
The reader may well believe I was anxious not to miss this council of war, which was to have so great an influence on my life. I went at the appointed hour to the General's, where I found one of the civil officials of Orenburg, the head of the Customs, if I recollect right, a little old man, fat and red-faced, dressed in a coat of watered silk.
He began questioning me on the fate of Iván Kouzmitch, whom he called his gossip, and he often interrupted me by many questions and sententious remarks, which if they did not show a man versed in the conduct of war, yet showed that he was possessed of natural wit, and of intelligence. During this time the other guests had assembled. When all were seated, and each one had been offered a cup of tea, the General explained lengthily and minutely what was the affair in hand.
"Now, gentlemen, we must decide how we mean to act against the rebels. Shall it be offensively or defensively? Each way has its disadvantages and its advantages. Offensive warfare offers more hope of the enemy being speedily crushed; but a defensive war is surer and less dangerous. Consequently we will collect the votes according to the proper order, that is to say, begin first consulting the juniors in respect of rank. Now, Mr. Ensign," continued he, addressing me, "be so good as to give us your opinion."
I rose, and after having depicted in a few words Pugatchéf and his band, I declared that the usurper was not in a state to resist disciplined troops. My opinion was received by the civil officials with visible discontent.
They saw in it the headstrong impertinence of youth.
A murmur arose, and I distinctly heard said, half-aloud, the words, "Beardless boy." The General turned towards me, and smilingly said—
"Mr. Ensign, the early votes in a council of war are generally for offensive measures. Now we will proceed. Mr. College Counsellor, tell us your opinion?"
The little old man in the watered silk coat made haste to swallow his third cup of tea, which he had mixed with a good help of rum.
"I think, your excellency," said he, "we must neither act on the defensive nor yet on the offensive."
"How so, Mr. Counsellor?" replied the General, astounded. "There is nothing else open to us in tactics—one must act either on the defensive or the offensive."
"Your excellency, endeavour to suborn."
"Eh! eh! your opinion is very judicious; the act of corruption is one admitted by the rules of war, and we will profit by your counsel. We might offer for the rascal's head seventy or even a hundred roubles, and take them from the secret funds."
"And then," interrupted the head of the Customs, "I'm a Kirghiz instead of a College Counsellor if these robbers do not deliver up their atáman, chained hand and foot."
"We will think of it, and talk of it again," rejoined the General. "Still, in any case, we must also take military measures. Gentlemen, give your votes in proper order."
Everyone's opinion was contrary to mine. Those present vied with each other about the untrustworthiness of the troops, the uncertainty of success, the necessity of prudence, and so forth. All were of opinion that it was better to stay behind a strong wall, their safety assured by cannon, than to tempt the fortune of war in the open field.
At last, when all the opinions had been given, the General shook the ashes out of his pipe and made the following speech:—
"Gentlemen, I must tell you, for my part, I am entirely of the opinion of our friend the ensign, for this opinion is based on the precepts of good tactics, in which nearly always offensive movements are preferable to defensive ones." Here he paused a moment and filled his pipe. My self-love was triumphant, and I cast a proud glance at the civil officials who were whispering among themselves, with an air of disquiet and discontent. "But, gentlemen," resumed the General, with a sigh, and puffing out a cloud of smoke, "I dare not take upon myself such a great responsibility, when the safety is in question of the provinces entrusted to my care by Her Imperial Majesty, my gracious Sovereign. Therefore I see I am obliged to abide by the advice of the majority, which has ruled that prudence as well as reason declares that we should await in the town the siege which threatens us, and that we should defeat the attacks of the enemy by the force of artillery, and, if the possibility present itself, by well-directed sorties."
It was now the turn of the officials to look mockingly at me. The council broke up. I could not help deploring the weakness of the honest soldier who, against his own judgment, had decided to abide by the counsel of ignorant and inexperienced people.
Several days after this memorable council of war, Pugatchéf, true to his word, approached Orenburg. From the top of the city wall I took note of the army of the rebels, and it seemed to me that their number had increased tenfold since the last assault I had witnessed. They had also artillery, which had been taken from the little forts which had fallen before Pugatchéf. As I recollected the decision of the council of war, I foresaw a long imprisonment within the walls of Orenburg, and I was ready to cry with vexation.
Far be from me any intention of describing the siege of Orenburg, which belongs to history, and not to a family memoir. In a few words, therefore, I shall say that in consequence of the bad arrangements of the authorities, the siege was disastrous for the inhabitants, who were forced to suffer hunger and privation of all kinds. Life at Orenburg was becoming unendurable; each one awaited in anxiety the fate that should befall him. All complained of the famine, which was, indeed, awful.
The inhabitants ended by becoming accustomed to the shells falling on their houses. Even the assaults of Pugatchéf no longer excited great disturbance. I was dying of ennui. The time passed but slowly. I could not get any letter from Bélogorsk, for all the roads were blocked, and the separation from Marya became unbearable. My only occupation consisted in my military rounds.
Thanks to Pugatchéf, I had a pretty good horse, with which I shared my scanty rations. Every day I passed beyond the ramparts, and I went and fired away against the scouts of Pugatchéf. In these sort of skirmishes the rebels generally got the better of us, as they had plenty of food and were capitally mounted.
Our thin, starved cavalry was unable to stand against them. Sometimes our famished infantry took the field, but the depth of the snow prevented action with any success against the flying cavalry of the enemy. The artillery thundered vainly from the height of the ramparts, and in the field guns could not work because of the weakness of the worn-out horses. This is how we made war, and this is what the officials of Orenburg called prudence and foresight.
One day, when we had succeeded in dispersing and driving before us a rather numerous band, I came up with one of the hindmost Cossacks, and I was about to strike him with my Turkish sabre when he took off his cap and cried—
"Good day, Petr' Andréjïtch; how is your health?"
I recognized our "ouriadnik." I cannot say how glad I was to see him.
"Good day, Maximitch," said I, "is it long since you left Bélogorsk?"
"No, not long, my little father, Petr' Andréjïtch; I only came back yesterday. I have a letter for you."
"Where is it?" I cried, overjoyed.
"I have got it," rejoined Maximitch, putting his hand into his breast. "I promised Palashka to give it to you."
He handed me a folded paper, and immediately darted off at full gallop. I opened it and read with emotion the following lines—
"It has pleased God to deprive me at once of my father and my mother. I have no longer on earth either parents or protectors. I have recourse to you, because I know you have always wished me well, and also that you are ever ready to help those in need. I pray God this letter may reach you. Maximitch has promised me he will ensure it reaching you. Palashka has also heard Maximitch say that he often sees you from afar in the sorties, and that you do not take care of yourself, nor think of those who pray God for you with tears.
"I was long ill, and when at last I recovered, Alexey Iványtch, who commands here in the room of my late father, forced Father Garasim to hand me over to him by threatening him with Pugatchéf. I live under his guardianship in our house. Alexey Iványtch tries to oblige me to marry him. He avers that he saved my life by not exposing Akoulina Pamphilovna's stratagem when she spoke of me to the robbers as her niece, but it would be easier to me to die than to become the wife of a man like Chvabrine. He treats me with great cruelty, and threatens, if I do not change my mind, to bring me to the robber camp, where I should suffer the fate of Elizabeth Kharloff.62
"I have begged Alexey Iványtch to give me some time to think it over. He has given me three days; if at the end of that time I do not become his wife I need expect no more consideration at his hands. Oh! my father, Petr' Andréjïtch, you are my only stay. Defend me, a poor girl. Beg the General and all your superiors to send us help as soon as possible, and come yourself if you can.
"I remain, your submissive orphan,
I almost went mad when I read this letter. I rushed to the town, spurring without pity my poor horse. During the ride I turned over in my mind a thousand projects for rescuing the poor girl without being able to decide on any. Arrived in the town I went straight to the General's, and I actually ran into his room. He was walking up and down, smoking his meerschaum pipe. Upon seeing me he stood still; my appearance doubtless struck him, for he questioned me with a kind of anxiety on the cause of my abrupt entry.
"Your excellency," said I, "I come to you as I would to my poor father. Do not reject my request; the happiness of my whole life is in question."
"What is all this, my father?" asked the astounded General. "What can I do for you? Speak."
"Your excellency, allow me to take a battalion of soldiers and fifty Cossacks, and go and clear out Fort Bélogorsk."
The General stared, thinking, probably, that I was out of my senses; and he was not far wrong.
"How? What! what! Clear out Fort Bélogorsk!" he said at last.
"I'll answer for success!" I rejoined, hotly. "Only let me go."
"No, young man," he said, shaking his head; "it is so far away. The enemy would easily block all communication with the principal strategic point, which would quickly enable him to defeat you utterly and decisively. A blocked communication, do you see?"
I took fright when I saw he was getting involved in a military dissertation, and I made haste to interrupt him.
"The daughter of Captain Mironoff," I said, "has just written me a letter asking for help. Chvabrine is obliging her to become his wife."
"Indeed! Oh! this Chvabrine is a great rascal. If he falls into my hands I'll have him tried in twenty-four hours, and we will shoot him on the glacis of the fort. But in the meantime we must have patience."
"Have patience!" I cried, beside myself. "Between this and then he will ill-treat Marya."
"Oh!" replied the General. "Still that would not be such a terrible misfortune for her. It would be better for her to be the wife of Chvabrine, who can now protect her. And when we shall have shot him, then, with heaven's help, the betrothed will come together again. Pretty little widows do not long remain single; I mean to say a widow more easily finds a husband."
"I'd rather die," I cried, furiously, "than leave her to Chvabrine."
"Ah! Bah!" said the old man, "I understand now. Probably you are in love with Marya Ivánofna. Then it is another thing. Poor boy! But still it is not possible for me to give you a battalion and fifty Cossacks. This expedition is unreasonable, and I cannot take it upon my own responsibility."
I bowed my head; despair overwhelmed me. All at once an idea flashed across me, and what it was the reader will see in the next chapter, as the old novelists used to say.
I left the General and made haste to return home.
Savéliitch greeted me with his usual remonstrances—
"What pleasure can you find, sir, in fighting with these drunken robbers? Is it the business of a'boyár?' The stars are not always propitious, and you will only get killed for naught. Now if you were making war with Turks or Swedes! But I'm ashamed even to talk of these fellows with whom you are fighting."
I interrupted his speech.
"How much money have I in all?"
"Quite enough," replied he, with a complacent and satisfied air. "It was all very well for the rascals to hunt everywhere, but I over-reached them."
Thus saying he drew from his pocket a long knitted purse, all full of silver pieces.
"Very well, Savéliitch," said I. "Give me half what you have there, and keep the rest for yourself. I am about to start for Fort Bélogorsk."
"Oh! my father, Petr' Andréjïtch," cried my good follower, in a tremulous voice; "do you not fear God? How do you mean to travel now that all the roads be blocked by the robbers? At least, take pity on your parents if you have none on yourself. Where do you wish to go? Wherefore? Wait a bit, the troops will come and take all the robbers. Then you can go to the four winds."
My resolution was fixed.
"It is too late to reflect," I said to the old man. "I must go; it is impossible for me not to go. Do not make yourself wretched, Savéliitch. God is good; we shall perhaps meet again. Mind you be not ashamed to spend my money; do not be a miser. Buy all you have need of, even if you pay three times the value of things. I make you a present of the money if in three days' time I be not back."
"What's that you're saying, sir?" broke in Savéliitch; "that I shall consent to let you go alone? Why, don't dream of asking me to do so. If you have resolved to go I will e'en go along with you, were it on foot; but I will not forsake you. That I should stay snugly behind a stone wall! Why, I should be mad! Do as you please, sir, but I do not leave you."
I well knew it was not possible to contradict Savéliitch, and I allowed him to make ready for our departure.
In half-an-hour I was in the saddle on my horse, and Savéliitch on a thin and lame "garron," which a townsman had given him for nothing, having no longer anything wherewith to feed it. We gained the town gates; the sentries let us pass, and at last we were out of Orenburg.
Night was beginning to fall. The road I had to follow passed before the little village of Berd, held by Pugatchéf. This road was deep in snow, and nearly hidden; but across the steppe were to be seen tracks of horses each day renewed.
I was trotting. Savéliitch could hardly keep up with me, and cried to me every minute—
"Not so fast, sir, in heaven's name not so fast! My confounded 'garron' cannot catch up your long-legged devil. Why are you in such a hurry? Are we bound to a feast? Rather have we our necks under the axe. Petr' Andréjïtch! Oh! my father, Petr' Andréjïtch! Oh, Lord! this 'boyár's' child will die, and all for nothing!"
We soon saw twinkling the fires of Berd. We were approaching the deep ravines which served as natural fortifications to the little settlement. Savéliitch, though keeping up to me tolerably well, did not give over his lamentable supplications. I was hoping to pass safely by this unfriendly place, when all at once I made out in the dark five peasants, armed with big sticks.
It was an advance guard of Pugatchéf's camp. They shouted to us—
"Who goes there?"
Not knowing the pass-word, I wanted to pass them without reply, but in the same moment they surrounded me, and one of them seized my horse by the bridle. I drew my sword, and struck the peasant on the head. His high cap saved his life; still, he staggered, and let go the bridle. The others were frightened, and jumped aside. Taking advantage of their scare, I put spurs to my horse, and dashed off at full gallop.
The fast increasing darkness of the night might have saved me from any more difficulties, when, looking back, I discovered that Savéliitch was no longer with me. The poor old man with his lame horse had not been able to shake off the robbers. What was I to do?
After waiting a few minutes and becoming certain he had been stopped, I turned my horse's head to go to his help. As I approached the ravine I heard from afar confused shouts, and the voice of my Savéliitch. Quickening my pace, I soon came up with the peasants of the advance guard who had stopped me a few minutes previously. They had surrounded Savéliitch, and had obliged the poor old man to get off his horse, and were making ready to bind him.
The sight of me filled them with joy. They rushed upon me with shouts, and in a moment I was off my horse. One of them, who appeared to be the leader, told me they were going to take me before the Tzar.
"And our father," added he, "will decide whether you are to be hung at once or if we are to wait for God's sunshine!"
I offered no resistance. Savéliitch followed my example, and the sentries led us away in triumph.
We crossed the ravine to enter the settlement. All the peasants' houses were lit up. All around arose shouts and noise. I met a crowd of people in the street, but no one paid any attention to us, or recognized in me an officer of Orenburg. We were taken to a "izbá," built in the angle of two streets. Near the door were several barrels of wine and two cannons.
"Here is the palace!" said one of the peasants; "we will go and announce you."
He entered the "izbá." I glanced at Savéliitch; the old man was making the sign of the cross, and muttering prayers. We waited a long time. At last the peasant reappeared, and said to me—
"Come, our father has given orders that the officer be brought in."
I entered the "izbá," or the palace, as the peasant called it. It was lighted by two tallow candles, and the walls were hung with gold paper. All the rest of the furniture, the benches, the table, the little washstand jug hung to a cord, the towel on a nail, the oven fork standing up in a corner, the wooden shelf laden with earthen pots, all was just as in any other "izbá. Pugatchéf sat beneath the holy pictures in a red caftan and high cap, his hand on his thigh. Around him stood several of his principal chiefs, with a forced expression of submission and respect. It was easy to see that the news of the arrival of an officer from Orenburg had aroused a great curiosity among the rebels, and that they were prepared to receive me in pomp. Pugatchéf recognized me at the first glance. His feigned gravity disappeared at once.
"Ah! it is your lordship," said he, with liveliness. "How are you? What in heaven's name brings you here?"
I replied that I had started on a journey on my own business, and that his people had stopped me.
"And on what business?" asked he.
I knew not what to say. Pugatchéf, thinking I did not want to explain myself before witnesses, made a sign to his comrades to go away. All obeyed except two, who did not offer to stir.
"Speak boldly before these," said Pugatchéf; "hide nothing from them."
I threw a side glance upon these two confederates of the usurper. One of them, a little old man, meagre and bent, with a scanty grey beard, had nothing remarkable about him, except a broad blue ribbon worn cross-ways over his caftan of thick grey cloth. But I shall never forget his companion. He was tall, powerfully built, and appeared to be about forty-five. A thick red beard, piercing grey eyes, a nose without nostrils, and marks of the hot iron on his forehead and on his cheeks, gave to his broad face, seamed with small-pox, a strange and indefinable expression. He wore a red shirt, a Kirghiz dress, and wide Cossack trousers. The first, as I afterwards learnt, was the deserter, Corporal Béloborodoff. The other, Athanasius Sokoloff, nicknamed Khlopúsha,63was a criminal condemned to the mines of Siberia, whence he had escaped three times. In spite of the feelings which then agitated me, this company wherein I was thus unexpectedly thrown greatly impressed me. But Pugatchéf soon recalled me to myself by his question.
"Speak! On what business did you leave Orenburg?"
A strange idea occurred to me. It seemed to me that Providence, in bringing me a second time before Pugatchéf, opened to me a way of executing my project. I resolved to seize the opportunity, and, without considering any longer what course I should pursue, I replied to Pugatchéf—
"I was going to Fort Bélogorsk, to deliver there an orphan who is being oppressed."
Pugatchéf's eyes flashed.
"Who among my people would dare to harm an orphan?" cried he. "Were he ever so brazen-faced, he should never escape my vengeance! Speak, who is the guilty one?"
"Chvabrine," replied I; "he keeps in durance the same young girl whom you saw with the priest's wife, and he wants to force her to become his wife."
"I'll give him a lesson, Master Chvabrine!" cried Pugatchéf, with a fierce air. "He shall learn what it is to do as he pleases under me, and to oppress my people. I'll hang him."
"Bid me speak a word," broke in Khlopúsha, in a hoarse voice. "You were too hasty in giving Chvabrine command of the fort, and now you are too hasty in hanging him. You have already offended the Cossacks by giving them a gentleman as leader—do not, therefore, now affront the gentlemen by executing them on the first accusation."
"They need neither be overwhelmed with favours nor be pitied," the little old man with the blue ribbon now said, in his turn. "There would be no harm in hanging Chvabrine, neither would there be any harm in cross-examining this officer. Why has he deigned to pay us a visit? If he do not recognize you as Tzar, he needs not to ask justice of you; if, on the other hand, he do recognize you, wherefore, then, has he stayed in Orenburg until now, in the midst of your enemies. Will you order that he be tried by fire?64It would appear that his lordship is sent to us by the Generals in Orenburg."
The logic of the old rascal appeared plausible even to me. An involuntary shudder thrilled through me as I remembered in whose hands I was.
Pugatchéf saw my disquiet.
"Eh, eh! your lordship," said he, winking, "it appears to me my field-marshal is right. What do you think of it?"
The banter of Pugatchéf in some measure restored me to myself.
I quietly replied that I was in his power, and that he could do with me as he listed.
"Very well," said Pugatchéf; "now tell me in what state is your town?"
"Thank God," replied I, "all is in good order."
"In good order!" repeated Pugatchéf, "and the people are dying of hunger there."
The usurper spoke truth; but, according to the duty imposed on me by my oath, I assured him it was a false report, and that Orenburg was amply victualled.
"You see," cried the little old man, "that he is deceiving you. All the deserters are unanimous in declaring famine and plague are in Orenburg, that they are eating carrion there as a dish of honour. And his lordship assures us there is abundance of all. If you wish to hang Chvabrine, hang on the same gallows this lad, so that they need have naught wherewith to reproach each other."
The words of the confounded old man seemed to have shaken Pugatchéf.
Happily, Khlopúsha began to contradict his companion.
"Hold your tongue, Naúmitch," said he; "you only think of hanging and strangling. It certainly suits you well to play the hero. Already you have one foot in the grave, and you want to kill others. Have you not enough blood on your conscience?"
"But are you a saint yourself?" retorted Béloborodoff. "Wherefore, then, this pity?"
"Without doubt," replied Khlopúsha, "I am also a sinner, and this hand" (he closed his bony fist, and turning back his sleeve displayed his hairy arm), "and this hand is guilty of having shed Christian blood. ButIkilled my enemy, and not my host, on the free highway and in the dark wood, but not in the house, and behind the stove with axe and club, neither with old women's gossip."
The old man averted his head, and muttered between his teeth—
"Branded!"
"What are you muttering there, old owl?" rejoined Khlopúsha. "I'll brand you! Wait a bit, your turn will come. By heaven, I hope some day you may smell the hot pincers, and till then have a care that I do not tear out your ugly beard."
"Gentlemen," said Pugatchéf, with dignity, "stop quarrelling. It would not be a great misfortune if all the mangy curs of Orenburg dangled their legs beneath the same cross-bar, but it would be a pity if our good dogs took to biting each other."
Khlopúsha and Béloborodoff said nothing, and exchanged black looks.
I felt it was necessary to change the subject of the interview, which might end in a very disagreeable manner for me. Turning toward Pugatchéf, I said to him, smiling—
"Ah! I had forgotten to thank you for your horse and 'touloup.' Had it not been for you, I should never have reached the town, for I should have died of cold on the journey."
My stratagem succeeded. Pugatchéf became good-humoured.
"The beauty of a debt is the payment!" said he, with his usual wink. "Now, tell me the whole story. What have you to do with this young girl whom Chvabrine is persecuting? Has she not hooked your young affections, eh?"
"She is my betrothed," I replied, as I observed the favourable change taking place in Pugatchéf, and seeing no risk in telling him the truth.
"Your betrothed!" cried Pugatchéf. "Why didn't you tell me before? We will marry you, and have a fine junket at your wedding." Then, turning to Béloborodoff, "Listen, field-marshal," said he, "we are old friends, his lordship and me; let us sit down to supper. To-morrow we will see what is to be done with him; one's brains are clearer in the morning than by night."
I should willingly have refused the proposed honour, but I could not get out of it. Two young Cossack girls, children of the master of the "izbá," laid the table with a white cloth, brought bread, fish, soup, and big jugs of wine and beer.
Thus for the second time I found myself at the table of Pugatchéf and his terrible companions. The orgy of which I became the involuntary witness went on till far into the night.
At last drunkenness overcame the guests; Pugatchéf fell asleep in his place, and his companions rose, making me a sign to leave him.
I went out with them. By the order of Khlopúsha the sentry took me to the lockup, where I found Savéliitch, and I was left alone with him under lock and key.
My retainer was so astounded by the turn affairs had taken that he did not address a single question to me. He lay down in the dark, and for a long while I heard him moan and lament. At last, however, he began to snore, and as for me, I gave myself up to thoughts which did not allow me to close my eyes for a moment all night.
On the morrow morning Pugatchéf sent someone to call me.
I went to his house. Before his door stood a "kibitka" with three Tartar horses. The crowd filled the street. Pugatchéf, whom I met in the ante-room, was dressed in a travelling suit, a pelisse and Kirghiz cap. His guests of yesterday evening surrounded him, and wore a submissive air, which contrasted strongly with what I had witnessed the previous evening.
Pugatchéf gaily bid me "good morning," and ordered me to seat myself beside him in the "kibitka." We took our places.
"To Fort Bélogorsk!" said Pugatchéf to the robust Tartar driver, who standing guided the team. My heart beat violently.
The horses dashed forward, the little bell tinkled, the "kibitka," bounded across the snow.
"Stop! stop!" cried a voice which I knew but too well; and I saw Savéliitch running towards us. Pugatchéf bid the man stop.
"Oh! my father, Petr' Andréjïtch," cried my follower, "don't forsake me in my old age among the rob—"
"Aha! old owl!" said Pugatchéf, "so God again brings us together. Here, seat yourself in front."
"Thanks, Tzar, thanks my own father," replied Savéliitch, taking his seat. "May God give you a hundred years of life for having reassured a poor old man. I shall pray God all my life for you, and I'll never talk about the hareskin 'touloup.'"
This hareskin "touloup" might end at last by making Pugatchéf seriously angry. But the usurper either did not hear or pretended not to hear this ill-judged remark. The horses again galloped.
The people stopped in the street, and each one saluted us, bowing low. Pugatchéf bent his head right and left.
In a moment we were out of the village and were taking our course over a well-marked road. What I felt may be easily imagined. In a few hours I should see again her whom I had thought lost to me for ever. I imagined to myself the moment of our reunion, but I also thought of the man in whose hands lay my destiny, and whom a strange concourse of events bound to me by a mysterious link.
I recalled the rough cruelty and bloody habits of him who was disposed to prove the defender of my love. Pugatchéf did not know she was the daughter of Captain Mironoff; Chvabrine, driven to bay, was capable of telling him all, and Pugatchéf might learn the truth in other ways. Then, what would become of Marya? At this thought a shudder ran through my body, and my hair seemed to stand on end.
All at once Pugatchéf broke upon my reflections.
"What does your lordship," said he, "deign to think about?"
"How can you expect me to be thinking?" replied I. "I am an officer and a gentleman; but yesterday I was waging war with you, and now I am travelling with you in the same carriage, and the whole happiness of my life depends on you."
"What," said Pugatchéf, "are you afraid?"
I made reply that having already received my life at his hands, I trusted not merely in his good nature but in his help.
"And you are right—'fore God, you are right," resumed the usurper; "you saw that my merry men looked askance at you. Even to-day the little old man wanted to prove indubitably to me that you were a spy, and should be put to the torture and hung. But I would not agree," added he, lowering his voice, lest Savéliitch and the Tartar should hear him, "because I bore in mind your glass of wine and your 'touloup.' You see clearly that I am not bloodthirsty, as your comrades would make out."
Remembering the taking of Fort Bélogorsk, I did not think wise to contradict him, and I said nothing.
"What do they say of me in Orenburg?" asked Pugatchéf, after a short silence.
"Well, it is said that you are not easy to get the better of. You will agree we have had our hands full with you."
The face of the usurper expressed the satisfaction of self-love.
"Yes," said he, with a glorious air, "I am a great warrior. Do they know in Orenburg of the battle of Jouzeïff?65Forty Generals were killed, four armies made prisoners. Do you think the King of Prussia is about my strength?"
This boasting of the robber rather amused me.
"What do you think yourself?" I said to him. "Could you beat Frederick?"
"Fédor Fédorovitch,66eh! why not? I can beat your Generals, and your Generals have beaten him. Until now my arms have been victorious. Wait a bit—only wait a bit—you'll see something when I shall march on Moscow?"
"And you are thinking of marching on Moscow?"
The usurper appeared to reflect. Then he said, half-aloud—
"God knows my way is straight. I have little freedom of action. My fellows don't obey me—they are marauders. I have to keep a sharp look out—at the first reverse they would save their necks with my head."
"Well," I said to Pugatchéf, "would it not be better to forsake them yourself, ere it be too late, and throw yourself on the mercy of the Tzarina?"
Pugatchéf smiled bitterly.
"No," said he, "the day of repentance is past and gone; they will not give me grace. I must go on as I have begun. Who knows? It may be. Grischka Otrépieff certainly became Tzar at Moscow."
"But do you know his end? He was cast out of a window, he was massacred, burnt, and his ashes blown abroad at the cannon's mouth, to the four winds of heaven."
The Tartar began to hum a plaintive song; Savéliitch, fast asleep, oscillated from one side to the other. Our "kibitka" was passing quickly over the wintry road. All at once I saw a little village I knew well, with a palisade and a belfry, on the rugged bank of the Yaïk. A quarter of an hour afterwards we were entering Fort Bélogorsk.