The Daughter of the Commandant Part 19

THE ORPHAN.

The "_kibitka"_ stopped before the door of the Commandant's house. The inhabitants had recognized the little bell of Pugatchef's team, and had a.s.sembled in a crowd. Chvabrine came to meet the usurper; he was dressed as a Cossack, and had allowed his beard to grow.

The traitor helped Pugatchef to get out of the carriage, expressing by obsequious words his zeal and joy.

Seeing me he became uneasy, but soon recovered himself.

"You are one of us," said he; "it should have been long ago."

I turned away my head without answering him. My heart failed me when we entered the little room I knew so well, where could still be seen on the wall the commission of the late deceased Commandant, as a sad memorial.

Pugatchef sat down on the same sofa where ofttimes Ivan Kouzmitch had dozed to the sound of his wife's scolding.

Chvabrine himself brought brandy to his chief. Pugatchef drank a gla.s.s of it, and said to him, pointing to me--

"Offer one to his lords.h.i.+p."

Chvabrine approached me with his tray. I turned away my head for the second time. He seemed beside himself. With his usual sharpness he had doubtless guessed that Pugatchef was not pleased with me. He regarded him with alarm and me with mistrust. Pugatchef asked him some questions on the condition of the fort, on what was said concerning the Tzarina's troops, and other similar subjects. Then suddenly and in an unexpected manner--

"Tell me, brother," asked he, "who is this young girl you are keeping under watch and ward? Show me her."

Chvabrine became pale as death.

"Tzar," he said, in a trembling voice, "Tzar, she is not under restraint; she is in bed in her room."

"Take me to her," said the usurper, rising.

It was impossible to hesitate. Chvabrine led Pugatchef to Marya Ivanofna's room. I followed them. Chvabrine stopped on the stairs.

"Tzar," said he, "you can constrain me to do as you list, but do not permit a stranger to enter my wife's room."

"You are married!" cried I, ready to tear him in pieces.

"Hus.h.!.+" interrupted Pugatchef, "it is my concern. And you," continued he, turning towards Chvabrine, "do not swagger; whether she be your wife or no, I take whomsoever I please to see her. Your lords.h.i.+p, follow me."

At the door of the room Chvabrine again stopped, and said, in a broken voice--

"Tzar, I warn you she is feverish, and for three days she has been delirious."

"Open!" said Pugatchef.

Chvabrine began to fumble in his pockets, and ended by declaring he had forgotten the key.

Pugatchef gave a push to the door with his foot, the lock gave way, the door opened, and we went in. I cast a rapid glance round the room and nearly fainted. Upon the floor, in a coa.r.s.e peasant's dress, sat Marya, pale and thin, with her hair unbound. Before her stood a jug of water and a bit of bread. At the sight of me she trembled and gave a piercing cry. I cannot say what I felt. Pugatchef looked sidelong at Chvabrine, and said to him with a bitter smile--

"Your hospital is well-ordered!" Then, approaching Marya, "Tell me, my little dove, why your husband punishes you thus?"

"My husband!" rejoined she; "he is not my husband. Never will I be his wife. I am resolved rather to die, and I shall die if I be not delivered."

Pugatchef cast a furious glance upon Chvabrine.

"You dared deceive me," cried he. "Do you know, villain, what you deserve?"

Chvabrine dropped on his knees. Then contempt overpowered in me all feelings of hatred and revenge. I looked with disgust upon a gentleman at the feet of a Cossack deserter. Pugatchef allowed himself to be moved.

"I pardon you this time," he said, to Chvabrine; "but next offence I will remember this one." Then, addressing Marya, he said to her, gently, "Come out, pretty one; I give you your liberty. I am the Tzar."

Marya Ivanofna threw a quick look at him, and divined that the murderer of her parents was before her eyes. She covered her face with her hands, and fell unconscious.

I was rus.h.i.+ng to help her, when my old acquaintance, Polashka, came very boldly into the room, and took charge of her mistress.

Pugatchef withdrew, and we all three returned to the parlour.

"Well, your lords.h.i.+p," Pugatchef said to me, laughing, "we have delivered the pretty girl; what do you say to it? Ought we not to send for the pope and get him to marry his niece? If you like I will be your _marriage G.o.dfather_, Chvabrine best man; then we will set to and drink with closed doors."

What I feared came to pa.s.s.

No sooner had he heard Pugatchef's proposal than Chvabrine lost his head.

"Tzar," said he, furiously, "I am guilty, I have lied to you; but Grineff also deceives you. This young girl is not the pope's niece; she is the daughter of Ivan Mironoff, who was executed when the fort was taken."

Pugatchef turned his flas.h.i.+ng eyes on me.

"What does all this mean?" cried he, with indignant surprise.

But I made answer boldly--

"Chvabrine has told you the truth."

"You had not told me that," rejoined Pugatchef, whose brow had suddenly darkened.

"But judge yourself," replied I; "could I declare before all your people that she was Mironoff's daughter? They would have torn her in pieces, nothing could have saved her."

"Well, you are right," said Pugatchef. "My drunkards would not have spared the poor girl; my gossip, the pope's wife, did right to deceive them."

"Listen," I resumed, seeing how well disposed he was towards me, "I do not know what to call you, nor do I seek to know. But G.o.d knows I stand ready to give my life for what you have done for me. Only do not ask of me anything opposed to my honour and my conscience as a Christian. You are my benefactor; end as you have begun. Let me go with the poor orphan whither G.o.d shall direct, and whatever befall and wherever you be we will pray G.o.d every day that He watch over the safety of your soul."

I seemed to have touched Pugatchef's fierce heart.

"Be it even as you wish," said he. "Either entirely punish or entirely pardon; that is my motto. Take your pretty one, take her away wherever you like, and may G.o.d grant you love and wisdom."

He turned towards Chvabrine, and bid him write me a safe conduct pa.s.s for all the gates and forts under his command. Chvabrine remained still, and as if petrified.

Pugatchef went to inspect the fort; Chvabrine followed him, and I stayed behind under the pretext of packing up. I ran to Marya's room. The door was shut; I knocked.

"Who is there?" asked Polashka.