I stood in the vacant square, unable to collect my thoughts, disturbed
by so many terrible emotions. Uncertainty about Marie’s fate tortured
me. Where is she? Is she concealed? Is her retreat safe? I went to the
Commandant’s house. It was in frightful disorder; the chairs, tables,
presses had been burned up and the dishes were in fragments. I rushed up
the little stairs leading to Marie’s room, which I entered for the
first time in my life. A lamp still burned before the shrine which
had enclosed the sacred objects revered by all true believers. The
clothes-press was empty, the bed broke up. The robbers had not taken the
little mirror hanging between the door and the window. What had become
of the mistress of this simple, virginal abode? A terrible thought
flashed through my mind. Marie in hands of the brigands! My heart was
torn, and I cried aloud: “Marie! Marie!” I heard a rustle. Polacca,
quite pale, came from her hiding-place behind the clothes-press.
“Ah! Peter,” said she, clasping her hands, “what a day! what horrors!”
“Marie?” I asked impatiently, “Marie--where is she?”
“The young lady is alive,” said the maid, “concealed at Accoulina’s, at
the house of the Greek priest.”
“Great God!” I cried, with terror, “Pougatcheff is there!”
I rushed out of the room, made a bound into the street and ran wildly
to the priest’s house. It was ringing with songs, shouts and laughter.
Pougatcheff was at table there with his men. Polacca had followed me;
I sent her in to call out Accoulina secretly. Accoulina came into the
waiting-room, an empty bottle in her hand.
“In the name of heaven, where is Marie?” I asked with agitation.
“The little dove is lying on my bed behind the partition. Oh! Peter,
what danger we have just escaped! The rascal had scarcely seated himself
at table than the poor thing moaned. I thought I should die of fright.
He heard her. ‘Who is moaning in your room, old woman?’ ‘My niece,
Czar.’ ‘Let me see your niece, old woman.’ I saluted him humbly; ‘My
niece, Czar, has not strength to come before your grace.’ ‘Then I will
go and see her.’ And will you believe it, he drew the curtains and
looked at our dove, with his hawk’s eyes! The child did not recognize
him. Poor Ivan Mironoff! Basilia! Why was Ignatius taken, and you
spared? What do you think of Alexis? He has cut his hair and now hobnobs
with them in there. When I spoke of my sick niece he looked at me as if
he would run me through with his knife. But he said nothing, and we must
be thankful for that.”
The drunken shouts of the guests, and the voice of Father Garasim now
resounded together; the brigands wanted more wine, and Accoulina was
needed. “Go back to your house, Peter,” said she, “woe to you, if you
fall into his hands!”
She went to serve her guests; I, somewhat quieted, returned to my room.
Crossing the square, I saw some Bashkirs stealing the boots from the
bodies of the dead. I restrained my useless anger. The brigands had been
through the fortress and had pillaged the officers’ houses.
I reached my lodging. Saveliitch met me at the threshold. “Thank God!”
he cried. “Ah! master, the rascals have taken everything; but what
matter, since they did not take your life. Did you not recognize their
chief, master?”
“No, I did not; who is he?”
“What, my dear boy, have you forgotten the drunkard who cheated you
out of the touloup the day of the snow-drift--a hare-skin touloup?--the
rascal burst all the seams putting it on.”
My eyes were opened. The resemblance between the guide and Pougatcheff
was striking. I now understood the pardon accorded me. I recalled with
gratitude the lucky incident. A youth’s touloup given to a vagabond had
saved my neck; and this drunkard, capturing fortress, had shaken the
very empire.
“Will you not deign to eat something?” said Saveliitch, true to his
instincts; “there is nothing in the house, it is true, but I will find
something and prepare it for you.”
Left alone, I began to reflect that not to leave the fortress, now
subject to the brigand, or to join his troops, would be unworthy of an
officer. Duty required me to go and present myself where I could still
be useful to my country. But love counseled me, with no less force, to
stay near Marie, to be her protector and champion. Although I foresaw
a near and inevitable change in the march of events, still I could not,
without trembling, contemplate the danger of her position.
My reflections were interrupted by the entrance of a Cossack, who came
to announce that the “great Czar” called me to his presence. “Where is
he?” I asked, preparing to obey. “In the commandant’s house,” replied
the Cossack. “After dinner the Czar went to the vapor baths. It must be
confessed that all his ways are imperial! He can do more than others; at
dinner he deigned to eat two roast milk-pigs; afterward at the bath he
endured the highest degree of heat; even the attendant could not stand
it; he handed the brush to another and was restored to consciousness
only by the application of cold water. It is said that in the bath, the
marks of the true Czar were plainly seen on his breast--a picture of his
own face and a double-headed eagle.”
I did not think it necessary to contradict the Cossack, and I followed
him to the Commandant’s, trying to fancy in advance my interview with
Pougatcheff, and its result. The reader may imagine that I was not quite
at ease. Night was falling as I reached the house. The gibbet with
its victims still stood, black and terrible. The poor body of our good
Basilia was lying under the steps, near which two Cossacks mounted
guard. He who had brought me, entered to announce my arrival; he
returned at once, and led me to the room where the evening before I had
taken leave of Marie. At a table covered with a cloth, and laden with
bottles and glasses, sat Pougatcheff, surrounded by some ten Cossack
chiefs in colored caps and shirts, with flushed faces and sparkling
eyes, the effect, no doubt, of the wine-cup.