“You have plenty,” said he with a satisfied air. “I knew how to whisk
it out of sight of the rogues.” He drew from his pocket a long knitted
purse full of silver coin.
“Saveliitch, give me half of what you have there, and keep the rest for
yourself. I am off for the fortress of Belogorsk.”
“Oh, Peter!” said the old serf, “do you not fear God? The roads are cut
off. Have pity on your parents; wait a little; our troops will come and
disperse the brigands, and then you can go to the four quarters of the
world.”
“It is too late to reflect. I must go. Do not grieve, Saveliitch; I make
you a present of that money. Buy what you need. If I do not return in
three days--”
“My dear,” said the old man, “I will go with you, were it on foot. If
you go, I must first lose my senses before I will stay crouching behind
stone walls.”
There was never any use disputing with the old man. In half an hour
I was in the saddle, Saveliitch on an old, half-starved, limping
rosinante, which a citizen, not having fodder, had given for nothing to
the serf. We reached the city gates; the sentinels let us pass, and we
were finally out of Orenbourg. Night was falling. My road lay before the
town of Berd, the headquarters of Pougatcheff. This road was blocked up
and hidden by snow; but across the steppe were traces of horses, renewed
from day to day, apparently, and clearly visible. I was going at a
gallop, Saveliitch could scarcely keep up and shouted, “Not so fast! My
nag can not follow yours.” Very soon we saw the lights of Berd. We were
approaching deep ravines, which served as natural fortifications to the
town. Saveliitch, without however being left behind, never ceased his
lamentations. I was in hopes of passing safely the enemy’s place, when
I saw through the darkness five peasants armed with big
sticks--Pougatcheff’s extreme outpost.
“_Qui vive_! Who goes there?”
Not knowing the watchword, I was for going on without answering. But one
of them seized my horse’s bridle. I drew my sabre and struck the peasant
of the head. His cap saved his life; he staggered and fell; the others,
frightened, let me pass. The darkness, which was deepening, might
have saved me from further hindrance; when, looking back, I saw that
Saveliitch was not with me. What was I to do? The poor old man, with his
lame horse, could not escape from the rascals. I waited a minute; then,
sure that they must have seized him, I turned my horse’s head to go and
aid him. Approaching the ravine I heard voices, and recognized that of
Saveliitch. Hastening my steps, was soon within sight of the peasants.
They had dismounted the old man, and were about to garrote him. They
rushed upon me; in an instant I was on foot. Their chief said I should
be conducted to the Czar. I made no resistance. We crossed the ravine
to enter the town, which was illuminated. The streets were crowded and
noisy. We were taken to a hut on the corner of two streets. There were
some barrels of wine and a cannon near the door. One of the peasants
said: “Here is the palace; we will announce you.” I glanced at
Saveliitch; he was making signs of the cross, and praying. We waited a
long time. At last the peasant re-appeared and said: “The Czar orders
the officers to his presence.”
The palace, as the peasant called it, was lighted by two tallow candles.
The walls were hung with gold paper. But every thing else, the benches,
the table, the basin hung up by a cord, the towel on a nail in the wall,
the shelf laden with earthen vessels, were exactly the same as in any
other cabin. Pougatcheff, wearing his scarlet cafetan and high Cossack
cap, with his hand on his hip, sat beneath the sacred pictures common to
every Russian abode. Around him stood several of his chiefs. I could
see that the arrival of an officer from Orenbourg had awakened
some curiosity, and that they had prepared to receive me with pomp.
Pougatcheff recognized me at once, and his assumed gravity disappeared.
“Ah! it is your lordship! how are you? What brings you here?”
I replied that I was traveling about my private business, when his
people arrested me.
“What business?” asked he. I did not know what to answer. Pougatcheff
thinking that I would not speak before witnesses gave a sign to his
comrades to leave. All obeyed except two. “Speak before these,” said he;
“conceal nothing from them.”
I glanced at these intimates of the usurper. One was an old man frail
and bent, remarkable for nothing but a blue riband crossed over his
coarse gray cloth cafetan; but I shall never forget his companion. He
was tall, of powerful build, and seemed about forty-five. A thick red
beard, piercing gray eyes, a nose without nostrils, marks of the searing
irons on his forehead and cheeks, gave to his broad face, pitted by
small-pox a most fierce expression. He wore a red shirt, a Kirghis robe,
and wide Cossack pantaloons. Although wholly pre-occupied by my own
feelings, yet this company deeply impressed me. Pougatcheff recalled me
to myself quickly.
“What business brought you from Orenbourg?”
A bold idea suggested itself to my mind. It seemed to me that
Providence, leading me a second time before this robber, gave me the
means of accomplishing my work. I decided to seize the chance, and
without reflecting on the step, I replied:
“I am on the way to the fortress of Belogorsk to liberate an oppressed
orphan there.”
Pougatcheff’s eyes flashed. “Who dares to oppress an orphan? Were he
seven feet high, he shall not escape my vengeance. Speak, who is the
guilty one?”
“Alexis; he holds in slavery that same young girl whom you saw at Father
Garasim’s, and wants to force her to marry him.”
“I shall give Alexis a lesson! I’ll teach him to oppress my subjects. I
shall hang him.”
“Permit me a word,” said the man without nostrils. “You were too hasty
giving the command to Alexis. You offended the Cossacks by giving them
a noble as chief; do not offend the gentlemen by hanging one of them on
the first accusation.”
“There is no need to pardon nor pity,” said the man with the blue
riband. “It would be no harm to hang Alexis, nor to question this
gentleman. Why does he visit us? If he does not acknowledge you as Czar
he has no justice to get at your hands; if he acknowledge you, why
did he stay at Orenbourg with your enemies? Will you not order him to
prison, and have a fire lighted there?”
The old rascal’s logic seemed plausible even to myself. I shuddered when
I remembered into whose hands I had fallen. Pougatcheff saw my trouble.
“Eh! eh! your lordship,” said he, winking, “it seems my field-marshal is
right. What do you think?”
The jesting tone of the chief restored my courage. I replied calmly that
I was in his power.
“Well,” said Pougatcheff, “tell me now the condition of your city?”
“It is, thank God, in a good state.”
“A good condition,” repeated the brigand, “when the people are dying of
hunger.”
The usurper was right, but according to the duty imposed by my oath, I
affirmed that it was a false report, and that the fort was sufficiently
provisioned.
“You see he deceives you,” interrupted the man with the riband. “All
the deserters are unanimous in saying that famine and pestilence are
at Orenbourg; that thistles are eaten as dainties there. If you wish to
hang Alexis, hang on the same gibbet this young fellow, that they may be
equal.”
These words seemed to shake the chief. Happily the other wretch opposed
this view.
“Silence,” said this powerful fellow. “You think of nothing but hanging
and strangling. It becomes _you_ to play the hero. To look at you, no
one knows where your soul is.”
“And which of the saints are you?” replied the old man.
“Generals,” said Pougatcheff, with dignity, “an end to your quarrels.
It would be no great loss if all the mangy dogs from Orenbourg were
dangling their legs under the same cross-beam; but it would be a
misfortune if our own good dogs should bite each other.”
Feeling the necessity of changing the conversation, I turned to
Pougatcheff with a smile, and said:
“Ah! I forgot to thank you for the horse and touloup. Without your aid
I should not have reached the city. I would have died from cold on the
journey.” My trick succeeded. Pougatcheff regained his good humor.
“The beauty of debt is the payment thereof,” said he, winking. “Tell
me your story. What have you to do with the young girl that Alexis
persecutes? Has she caught your heart, too?”
“She is my promised bride,” said I, seeing no risk in speaking the
truth.
“Your promised bride! Why did you not tell me sooner? We’ll marry you,
and be at your wedding. Listen, Field-marshal,” said he. “We are old
friends, his lordship and I. Lets us go to supper. Tomorrow we shall
see what is to be done with him. Night brings wisdom, and the morning is
better than the evening.”
I would gladly have excused myself from proposed honor, but it was
impossible. Two Cossacks girls covered the table with a white cloth, and
brought bread, soup made of fish, and pitchers of wine and beer. Thus,
for the second time, I was at table with Pougatcheff and his terrible
companions. The orgie lasted far into the night. Drunkenness at last
triumphed. Pougatcheff fell asleep in his place, and his companions
signed to me to leave him. I went out with them. The sentry locked me
up in a dark hole, where I found Saveliitch. He was so surprised by all
that he saw and heard, that he asked no questions. Lying in darkness, he
soon fell asleep.
The next morning Pougatcheff sent for me. Before his door stood a
kibitka, with three horses abreast. The street was crowded. Pougatcheff,
whom I met in the entry of his hut, was dressed for a journey, in a
pelisse and Kirghis cap. His guests of the previous night surrounded
him, and wore a look of submission which contrasted strongly with what
I had seen on the preceding evening. Pougatcheff bade me good-morning
gaily, and ordered me to sit beside him in the kibitka. We took our
places.
“To the fortress of Belogorsk,” said Pougatcheff to the robust Tartar,
who, standing, drove his horses. My heart beat violently. The Tartar
horses shot off, the bells tinkled, the kibitka flew over the snow.
“Stop! stop!” cried a voice I knew too well. “O Peter! do not abandon me
in my old age, in the midst of the rob--”
“Ah, you old owl!” said Pougatcheff, “sit up there in front.”
“Thanks, Czar, may God give you a long life.”
The horses set off again. The people in the streets stopped and bowed
low, as the usurper passed. Pougatcheff saluted right and left. In an
instant we were out of the town, taking our way over a well-defined
road. I was silent. Pougatcheff broke in upon my reverie. “Why so
silent, my lord?” said he.
“I can not help thinking,” said I, “of the chain of events. I am an
officer, noble, yesterday at war with you; today I ride in the same
carriage with you, and all the happiness of my life depends on you.”
“Are you afraid?”
“You have already given me my life!”
“You say truly. You know how my fellows looked upon you; only today they
wanted to try you as a spy. The old one wanted to torture and then hang
you; but I would not, because I remembered your glass of wine and your
touloup. I am not bloodthirsty, as your friends say.” I remembered the
taking of our fortress, but I did not contradict him.
“What do they say of me at Orenbourg?”
“It is said there, that you will not be easily vanquished. It must be
confessed that you have given us some work.”
“Yes; I am a great warrior. Do you think the King Prussia is as strong
as I?”
“What do you think yourself? Can you beat Frederick?”
“Frederick the Great? Why not? Wait till I march to Moscow!”
“You really intend to march on Moscow?”
“God knows,” said he, reflecting; “my road is narrow--my boys do not
obey--they are thieves--I must listen--keep my ears open; at the first
reverse they would save their own necks by my head.”
“Would it not be better,” I said, “to abandon them now, before it is too
late, and have recourse to the clemency of the Empress?”
He smiled bitterly. “No; the time is passed. I shall end as I began. Who
knows?”
Our Tartar was humming a plaintive air; Saveliitch, sound asleep, swayed
from side to side; our kibitka was gliding rapidly over the winter road.
I saw in the distance a village well known to my eyes, with its palisade
and church spire on the steep bank of the river Iaik. A quarter of an
hour after we entered the fortress of Belogorsk.