A Russian Village--Danger of being discovered--Providential Warning--
Flight--Approach to his Native Village--Horror on discovering his Home
deserted--Encounter with old Soukhoroukof--Taken to his House--Account
of his Parents--Aneouta carried away--His Agony--Encouraged to rouse
himself--Plans for rescuing his Parents and Aneouta--Sets off again--
Encounter with Zingari--Old Friends--A bold Exploit--They offer to
assist him--Plan arranged.
"I have given a far longer account of myself and my travels than I
intended, gentlemen, but I wished to interest you," continued the
stranger. "I trust that I have done so already. What I have further to
tell you will, I hope, excite your sympathy and commiseration, and
induce you to accede to the request I have to make. I awoke just before
sunset, and descending from my tree hastened towards the village, now
bathed in the calm glow of the evening. I knew the spot well. I had
often been there. I recognised the little church with its gilt dome and
blue and pink walls, the pride of all the inhabitants--the whitewashed
houses of the richer villagers, and the rough log-huts, thatched with
straw, of the poorer serfs. A sparkling stream ran by it, and green
fields and orchards surrounded the place. It was altogether a
flourishing little village. The stream ran from out of the side of the
very hill from which I was descending. I stopped by its brink, and
having enjoyed a draught of the clear, pure, cold water, I took off my
upper garments, and washed away all signs of travel from my countenance.
Much refreshed, I proceeded. I had hopes of finding some one who could
give me information about my parents. I walked on with as unconcerned
an air as possible. First I went to a baker's shop, where I bought
bread, but he scarcely knew the name of my village. I procured also
some cheese, and salt, and dried fish. With a beating heart I made
inquiries of those of whom I bought these articles, but not a particle
of information could I obtain. At last I thought that people began to
look at me suspiciously, and that it would be more prudent to take my
departure. Having come to this resolution, I went straight on, neither
looking to the right hand nor to the left, and endeavouring to appear as
unconcerned as possible. I had gone a little way when a person passed
me as if running to reach some object before me. He did not look at me,
but I heard him say, `Hasten on, brother. Tarry not to-night--you are
suspected, and may ere long be pursued.'
"`Thanks, thanks; may our brother be rewarded by Heaven,' I replied,
without looking at him or altering my pace. To this day I know not the
countenance of the man who gave me this timely warning. As soon as he
had gone on some way, I began to walk quicker than before; and darkness
having now concealed me from any loungers near the village, I hastened
on as fast as my feet could carry me. Young Vacia's horse would have
been truly welcome, still I dared not rest. Never had I travelled on so
rapidly. I had, indeed, two powerful motives to hurry my steps--fear of
capture, and a longing desire to see my parents and my betrothed. I
escaped the threatened danger. Suffice it to say that, after another
night passed on foot, I stood within half a verst of my father's door,
yet I dared not venture into the village by daylight. I had hoped to
reach it before dawn, but my weary feet refused to carry me along
faster. I could gain no information of those I loved. All my friends
whom I could trust had been removed. Many new inhabitants had been sent
to the place, and I was as a stranger on the spot where my childhood and
youth had been passed. I lay concealed all day in a sheltered nook on
the hill-side, which commanded a wide view in every direction, and would
enable me to retreat should any one approach. How can I paint the
anxiety of those hours, as I looked down on my native village, and
recognised my father's cottage, and every spot I knew so well? I tried
to discover any inhabitants moving about the door, but none came out
whom I could see all day. Evening drew on; the cows came lowing home to
be milked, the horses were driven forth to their pastures, and the field
labourers loitered in weary from their work. Many a hearth in the
village sent up its tiny wreath of smoke into the pure blue sky, but I
could see none ascending from my father's cottage. Forebodings of evil
tidings grew upon me. It was impossible longer to curb my anxiety. I
hastened down the hill, regardless of danger. No one observed me as I
hurried on. The cottage stood in a small garden, railed off from a
field. I ran across the field, leaped over the railing, and looked in
at a window at the back of the dwelling. All was silent; no one was
there. Perhaps they may be sitting in the porch in front of the house,
I thought. My sudden appearance will alarm them, though; but it cannot
be helped. I got over the paling again, and with beating, anxious heart
went round to the front. The porch was empty; the door was off its
hinges. My heart sank within me. A villager was passing--an old man--I
remembered his face well. He used to be kind to me as a boy, but he
liked not our new tenets.
"`What has become of Loutich Saveleff and his wife and their adopted
daughter, my father?' I asked, with a trembling voice.
"`Do you belong to this place, as your voice informs me, and ask what
has become of them?' exclaimed old Soukhoroukof. `I always told my
friend Saveleff that the same thing would happen to him which has
happened to his son, if he would persist in adopting the newfangled
doctrines which have been so rife of late years. What has become of his
son I know not. It is supposed generally that he is dead. He was a
good youth, but fanciful and unsteady. Not content with the
old-established, well-approved religion of this country, but he must
needs run after these new inventions, and get himself into trouble.
Well, I was telling you about friend Saveleff. He had long been
suspected of harbouring those doctrines, when lately it was discovered
that he had given shelter to three or four convicted heretics escaping
from justice. None of our old villagers would have informed against
him, but some of the newcomers brought the matter before the _Starosta_,
who was obliged to look into it. He carried the matter, as in duty
bound, to the steward, who, unfortunately for old Saveleff, owed him a
spite, and was but too glad to indulge his ill-feeling. The steward,
Morgatch (I will not say what I think of him), brought the affair up to
our Barin, the Count. Now the Count is a staunch religionist, and
wonderful orthodox; though between you and me, if his heart was looked
into, he cares as little for priests and the good of the Church as he
does for the Grand Sultan of the Turks. However, whatever that--hum!--
Morgatch advises him to do he does. Morgatch brought forward plenty of
witnesses to prove that the heretics had been seen in Saveleff's house,
and that he and his wife and daughter had served them with food; and
what is more, read out of the Bible, and prayed with them. Such
atrocious crimes, of course, could not go unpunished; Morgatch, to make
sure of the condemnation of his victims, brought forward evidence to
prove that, not content with holding those pernicious doctrines
themselves, they had endeavoured to instil them into others. This, too,
was clearly proved. Saveleff had not a word to say in his defence, nor
had his wife, but rather they boldly confessed and gloried in their
crime. Had they been serfs, their owners might have claimed them; but
they were free, and the old couple, without the power of appeal, were
condemned to be transported to Siberia. No mercy was shown them on
account of their grey hairs and their excellent character. They were
sent off with felons, murderers, thieves, and traitors, to Moscow. One
consolation is, that ere this they have probably sunk down, overcome
with fatigue and ill usage, and been released from their sufferings by
death.'
"I groaned as I heard these words; I had no questions to ask concerning
my parents--the worst was revealed to me. `And Aneouta, their daughter,
what became of her?' I gasped out. `Ah, poor girl, her fate was a hard
one. She would have been transported also, but that--hum!--Morgatch
proved that she was a serf, the property of a brother of our Barin's,
the Count; that her father and mother were serfs, and that she had never
been manumitted, as old Saveleff, who had adopted her, supposed.
Instead, therefore, of being sent to Siberia, she was packed off without
ceremony to her native village, to work in the fields, I suppose, or--
But what is the matter, young man? You are ill, surely,' continued the
good-natured Soukhoroukof, extending a hand to me, as he saw me at these
words about to sink on the ground.
"`Oh, nothing, nothing,' I answered, trying to conceal my agitation, but
in vain.
"`Young men do not look like that for nothing,' he replied. `Come
along--come into my house. You require food; perhaps a glass of kvass
will do you good. Come along,' and seizing my arm he led me, scarcely
conscious of where I was going, to his own cottage.
"Had I had time for consideration I would not have allowed the good man
to have run the risk of harbouring me. He made me sit down at his
table, and gave me food, and the kvass he promised. I ate and drank
mechanically.
"`When did all this happen?' I asked, with a trembling voice.
"`About a fortnight ago only,' he answered, looking very hard at me.
`You seem very interested in the people; did you know them?'
"`I did,' I answered, doubly agitated; `but oh, father, do not ask me
questions; it can do no good.'
"`I must ask you one. Are you young Steffanos Saveleff, my old friend's
son?'
"`I am,' I answered, bowing my head. `And oh, father, I would not have
entered your house had you given me time to think of the danger I might
place you in; and you, I am sure, will not betray me.'
"`Speak not of it, my son. You have eaten of my loaf and my salt, and
drunk of my cup, and you are safe. No one saw you enter, and no one
need see you depart. Rest a little while, and then go on your way. I
must not venture to harbour you longer than a few hours. Before
daylight you should be far from this.'
"`Thanks, thanks, father!' I exclaimed. `And now you know who I am,
will you advise me how to proceed? Have I a chance of rescuing my
parents, should they be still alive? You know that I am betrothed to
Aneouta. Can I save her from the fate to which she is doomed?'
"Soukhoroukof leaned back in his chair and thought for some time. `I
have an idea,' he exclaimed at length. `The Emperor, our great Czar, is
about to be crowned shortly. On such an occasion he will surely grant
the requests of his loving subjects. Get a petition drawn up: go to
Moscow: present it. Tell the Czar your whole story. He will be
interested. If he grants your petition, as he may, ask him boldly to
increase the favour by enabling you to marry Aneouta. Say no more than
that you are betrothed to a beautiful girl who loves you, and that
difficulties which the Czar alone can overcome lie in the way of your
nuptials.'
"`Oh, my kind father, the advice you give is excellent,' I answered;
`but thousands will be offering similar petitions, and what chance shall
I have?'
"`You will have as good a chance as others,' he replied. `Try and be
one of the first. But I doubt if many will venture to present
petitions. The difficulty of reaching the city is great, and few, even
if they wish it, will be allowed to go, while those who dwell there are
not likely to have any petitions to present. Try your chance, at all
events.'
"`I will, I will,' I exclaimed, grasping eagerly at the proposal, as a
sinking man does at a straw, though I had little hope of its success.
`But how shall I reach Moscow?' I asked. `It is a long, long way, I
fear, from this.'
"`Go to the banks of the Volga; you will there find steamers going up to
Nishni; get on board one of them, and your way will then be easy.'
"I warmly thanked the kind Soukhoroukof for his advice, and rose to take
my departure. I was unwilling to jeopardise him by remaining a moment
longer under his roof than was necessary. `One thing more I would wish
to speak about before I go,' said I, taking his hand. `Oh, my father,
if you would but study that book on which we place our faith, how happy,
how wise it would make you!'
"`Well, well, my son, speak not of it. Perhaps I do: I think not as I
used to do. The times are evil. It is necessary to be cautious. I
will say no more on that point. But I have another matter to speak to
you about before you go. You will want money to prosecute your plans.
I am a widower; I have no children left to me alive. The bones of my
sons whiten many a battle-field. My daughters died giving birth to
those who will be dragged off to the same fate;--slaves, slaves all. I
have no one to provide for; I am rich--rich in gold, that is to say,
poor in everything else. I can well spare what I give. Take this
purse; it contains two hundred roubles. It will help you on your way.
Heaven prosper you!'
"My heart came into my mouth as the old man uttered these words. I
could not reply to him; no words could have expressed my feelings; I
took his hand, I bathed it with tears. I fell on his neck and wept. He
saw how grateful I was; I would not have had him for a moment think me
otherwise. `And a less sum than this would have purchased my Aneouta's
freedom,' I exclaimed; for I could not help thinking of my betrothed,
though I did not in any possible way desire to withdraw it from the
still more important object of saving my parents from worse than
slavery--a banishment to Siberia, or rather, a cruel death on the road.
"`I think not,' answered my host to my last observation. `The brother
of our Barin, the Count, who owns Aneouta, is not likely to give her her
freedom for any sum a poor man can offer; through the Emperor, alone can
you hope to succeed with him. He will not refuse to comply with any
request made to him by the Czar; depend on that. If you fail with the
Emperor then come back to me, and we will try what money will do with
the Barin. I will offer to pay the money for the poor girl's freedom,
to adopt her. We must let her know, in the meantime, that she has still
friends in the world, and that she must keep up her spirits. She must
also endeavour to make herself of little value in the sight of the
Barin, her owner. She must feign sickness or foolishness, and disfigure
her countenance, or refuse to work; a woman's wit will advise her best,
though, what to do.'
"`Oh, my father, my father, you overwhelm me!' I exclaimed. `I will go
and see her; I will carry your advice to her. It cannot be far out of
the way; I will travel day and night not to cause any delay.'
"`You may pass by the estate on your way,' answered my old friend, `but
the danger is very great. Any one seeking to speak to her is certain to
be watched, and if you are captured, your punishment will be of the
severest kind. They will knout you till you are nearly dead, and you
will then be sent off to work for the rest of your miserable life in the
mines of Siberia.' `I know all that, but I will run every risk for
Aneouta's sake,' I answered; and so it was settled. In spite of the
almost desperate state of my prospects, I felt my spirits rise with the
hope of overcoming the difficulties which lay before me. Soukhoroukof
amply stocked my wallet with provisions, and before the end of another
hour I had left my native village three versts behind my back. Five
days' hard walking would, I calculated, bring me to where I expected to
find Aneouta. My strength, I felt, would sustain me till I had seen
her, and to see her I was determined at every risk. I would entrust to
no one our friend Soukhoroukof's message and advice. The idea occurred
to me that if I could but get a horse I might push on more rapidly than
I possibly could on foot, but how to secure one was the difficulty. To
purchase one would require more money than I could spare, and it would
be impossible to get one at the postmaster's without a pass. I should
instantly have been questioned, and imprisoned till I could give an
account of myself. Indeed, the greater portion of my route lay along
byroads, or no roads at all, across the country. Morning was
approaching, and I was getting very weary, for it must be remembered
that I had taken but little rest the previous day, when I saw in the
distance, reflected in the sky, a red gleam of light. It was a wild
district, and I knew of no village in that direction, but it appeared to
me to proceed from the burning of some cottage. `Some woodman's hut,
perhaps, has caught fire,' I said to myself, as I pushed onward. As I
drew still nearer there seemed to be several fires, and I began to fear
that an entire village, perhaps, was on fire. I determined, at all
events, to ascertain the cause of the conflagration before I stopped to
rest. I walked on, therefore, as fast as I could, and at length, having
reached a slightly rising ground, I saw before me a number of tents
grouped together, at a short distance from each other, and enclosed by a
circle of waggons. Outside the waggons were tethered horses, and
donkeys, and mules, and several head of cattle. The whole encampment,
even at that early hour, was astir: some persons were bending round the
fires which had at first attracted my attention, busily employed in
cooking; others were lashing up packages, filling panniers with the
contents of the tents; while young lads were carrying round fodder and
water to the horses and cattle. They might have been mistaken for a
party of merchants going with goods brought from far-off provinces to
the fair of Nishni, but I recognised them at once as a band of Zingari
or gipsies, probably bound in the same direction. I had often met these
people during the long period of my wanderings, and I was well
acquainted with their habits. Under certain restrictions from
Government they rove about the country, and lead a free and independent
life of a purely nomadic character. They are not so wealthy as those
who live in the towns, and sing on the stage and in public gardens; but
they are more trustworthy, and have more rude virtues than their
brethren of the city. Oftentimes had I spent nights together in their
tents when they knew that they were running some risk by sheltering me,
and might, perhaps, have obtained some reward by handing me over to
Government. I was in hopes that I might find among them some of my
former friends, so I resolved at once to go boldly among them. As I
drew near the encampment, a number of dogs rushed out from beneath the
waggons, and began barking at me furiously. The noise brought out
several of the men, who came from among the tents, peering at me
cautiously through the darkness.
"`What do you want here?' asked one of them gruffly, calling back the
dogs.
"`Shelter and assistance,' said I.
"`You are not likely to find either one or the other here. We are
moving from hence, and require no strangers.'
"`Lead me to your chief, then, and I will hear what he has to say,' I
replied, in a confident voice.
"`He is here,' said a man, stepping out from among the tents. `Tell me
what you require.'
"There was nothing in the appearance of the man to distinguish him as
the chief, except that his voice was particularly clear and firm, and
there was an air of authority in his manner, as if he was accustomed to
command.
"`You are known to be kind to the persecuted and to the friendless, and
I am one of those coming to seek your assistance.'
"`You shall have what you require, my friend, if it is in my power to
give it you,' he replied; `but come in here, and let me know more
particularly what it is you require.'
"He took me by the hand, and led me in front of a tent, where he made me
sit down on a bale, which had just been prepared for loading a horse.
"`We have met before, father,' said I, as soon as I saw his features
more distinctly by the bright light of the fire. `It was some time ago,
though, yet you will remember the circumstance, I know. The first snows
of winter had just fallen, and a hard frost had set in, when one of your
children strayed into the woods. On, on she went, thinking she was
approaching your encampment, but was all the time getting farther from
it. The evening was setting in, when she saw three huge animals moving
towards her; they were wolves, ravenous with hunger. An armed man might
well have dreaded to encounter them alone. I was, happily, in the wood,
a houseless wanderer. I beheld the scene from the entrance of a rude
hut I had just constructed to shelter myself from the inclemency of the
weather. The sweet child stood petrified with terror--the savage beasts
approached her--my fowling-piece lay by my side--I levelled it, fired,
and brought the largest wolf to the ground. Then loading as I went, I
rushed forward with a loud shout, which made the animals stop to see
whence it came. This gave me time to load and to shoot another through
the head; the third took to flight, but I killed him also just as he was
disappearing among the trees. The little girl stood staring at me with
amazement, then burst into tears. I took her up in my arms, and wrapped
a sheepskin round her. She was a sweet little creature. Her features
and her dress told me the race to which she belonged. I had seen the
encampment in the morning; it was more than two versts away, but I was
strong and active, and I knew I could carry her as far. She rested
quietly in my arms, with all the beautiful confidence of childhood. I
took my gun with me, and went gaily on over the crisp ground. In less
than an hour I reached the encampment. There was joy and gratitude in
the hearts of those to whom I delivered her. They had been searching
for her in vain, and had already believed her a prey to wolves, which
much infested that region.'
"`Ah, she was my own, my beautiful little Azeota,' exclaimed, the gipsy
chief, looking at me earnestly. `Every circumstance you relate was told
me then, I remember. But was it you did that brave act? Was it you who
saved my child? Pardon me that I did not know you; you are much changed
since then.'
"`So I believe,' said I. `Toil and anxiety have done their work on my
features, I doubt not. I am glad of it in one respect, for though at
times it may prevent my friends recognising me, it will more effectually
guard me from being discovered by my enemies.'
"`Ah, my dear friend, my son, my well-beloved, I know you now, though,'
exclaimed the gipsy, springing up, and throwing his arms round my neck,
while his countenance exhibited the deepest emotion. `Ah, my Azeota, my
sweet flower! I have lost her; death has taken her from me, but I am
not the less grateful to you for what you did for her, and I thank the
fates who have sent you once more to me that we may converse together of
her. But tell me, how is it that you come here to seek me?'
"On this I told him such part of my history as I thought would afford
him interest, and informed him of my purpose of endeavouring to find
Aneouta, and of going on afterwards to Nishni and Moscow.
"`I will think over the matter as we go along,' he replied; `we shall
soon be on the move; you will ride along with me. But stay, you have
had no food this morning, probably. Here, Kazan,' he cried, calling to
a lad who was passing; `bring some provisions here immediately for this,
my friend; your mother will give them to you--the best she has, tell
her. Then saddle my black mare, and bring her along with my horse; he
will ride her.'
"I thanked the gipsy chief for his arrangements. Nothing could be more
opportune than the encounter. The tribe were proceeding in the very
direction I wished to go, and though I could have performed the distance
almost as quickly on foot, I should now be enabled to do it without
fatigue. I ate a hearty breakfast, and by the time it was finished, the
gipsy's mare was brought to me to mount. Accompanying the chief, I rode
on to the head of the caravan. As he passed along the line he issued
his orders in a tone which showed that he was accustomed to be obeyed,
and this increased my confidence that he would be enabled to assist me
effectually. There were nearly three hundred people, I calculated,
altogether; quite a little army. Some of the younger men and boys were
on foot, lightly clad, with sticks in their hands to drive the horses
and cattle; others were on horseback, while some of the very old men and
women and children were carried in the waggons, which were driven by
some of the men on foot. The story of my having preserved little Azeota
from the wolves had already got about, and as I rode by, I was saluted
with expressions of gratitude, which were very satisfactory. I felt
indeed thankful that I had again fallen among friends so well able to
help me. At the time to which I allude, I had remained many days in the
camp. I had conversed much with the gipsies on religious subjects, and,
alas! Had found their minds totally ignorant of the truth. Though
living in a land at least called Christian, they knew nothing of that
pure faith; they were almost destitute of any hope, any fear; this life
was all they thought of. The future, eternity, was totally beyond their
comprehension. They put their hands before their eyes as if to shut it
out when I spoke of it. Gradually I unfolded to them holy things; I
spoke to them of the Bible and its wonderful history, and by degrees
they listened and were interested. Finally, I believe that I made much
impression on the minds of many of them. Then I was once more obliged
to fly for my liberty. Still I often visited the Zingari whenever I had
an opportunity, and never was otherwise than kindly received by them.
But to return to my late adventure with them.
"We had ridden some versts, and the gipsy chief had long been silent,
when he turned to me, and said:--
"`I have thought of a plan by which you may not only see your Aneouta,
but you may, if she will consent, carry her away from those who keep her
from you. You shall disguise yourself as a gipsy, and, accompanied by
one of the young women of the tribe, you will easily gain access to her,
under the pretence of telling fortunes. If you can persuade her to fly
from her persecutors, we will protect her. No one will suspect that you
have gone to the house for any other purpose than collecting a few
kopecks, or stealing chickens, perhaps; and who will think of searching
for her with us?'
"I saw at once the advantages of the plan proposed by the Zingari chief,
and yet I trembled at the thought of leaving Aneouta so long among his
people; not that I doubted they would protect her to the utmost of their
power, but I feared she might suffer from the hardships to which she
would be inevitably exposed. Still I felt that I must wait to decide
till I had seen my betrothed. For five days we travelled on with far
greater ease than I had been accustomed to, so that at the end of the
time I was fresher and stronger than when I fell in with the encampment.
"But I am wearying you, sirs, with my long history, and I am sure that
this kind gentleman, who has been interpreting for me, is completely out
of breath."
Mr Allwick smiled as he said this.
"Oh, no, no," exclaimed Cousin Giles, and the boys, and Mr Evergreen,
in a breath. "We are very much interested. Tell him to go on. We
would rather hear his adventures than see all the sights in the place."
The stranger bowed, and continued his narrative.