The Daughter of the Commandant Part 12

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 n.o.ble 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 abas.e.m.e.nt.

"My father, Petr' Andrejtch," 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 lords.h.i.+p 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 Va.s.silissa 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-gla.s.s 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' Andrejtch," 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 G.o.d! 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 part.i.tion. Ah! Petr' Andrejtch, a misfortune very nearly happened. But, thank G.o.d, all has pa.s.sed 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 part.i.tion. He drew aside the curtain, looked at her with his hawk's eyes, and nothing more; G.o.d 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 G.o.d! what have we lived to see! Poor Ivan Kouzmitch! who would have thought it! And Va.s.silissa 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' Andrejtch," 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' Andrejtch. What must be, must be; and it may be G.o.d 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' Andrejtch, 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 G.o.d 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 circ.u.mstances 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.