CHAPTER VI. — PUGATCHÉF.
Before beginning to relate those strange events to which I was witness, I must say a few words about the state of affairs in the district of Orenburg about the end of the year 1773. This rich and large province was peopled by a crowd of half-savage tribes, who had lately acknowledged the sovereignty of the Russian Tzars. Their perpetual revolts, their impatience of all rule and civilized life, their treachery and cruelty, obliged the authorities to keep a sharp watch upon them in order to reduce them to submission.
Forts had been placed at suitable points, and in most of them troops had been permanently established, composed of Cossacks, formerly possessors of the banks of the River Yaïk. But even these Cossacks, who should have been a guarantee for the peace and quiet of the country, had for some time shown a dangerous and unruly spirit towards the Imperial Government. In 1772 a riot took place in the principal settlement. This riot was occasioned by the severe measures taken by General Traubenberg, in order to quell the insubordination of the army. The only result was the barbarous murder of Traubenberg, the substitution of new chiefs, and at last the suppression of the revolt by volleys of grape and harsh penalties.
All this befell shortly before my coming to Fort Bélogorsk. Then all was, or seemed, quiet. But the authorities had too lightly lent faith to the pretended repentance of the rebels, who were silently brooding over their hatred, and only awaiting a favourable opportunity to reopen the struggle.
One evening (it was early in October, 1773) I was alone in my quarters, listening to the whistling of the autumn wind and watching the clouds passing rapidly over the moon. A message came from the Commandant that he wished to see me at once at his house. I found there Chvabrine, Iwán Ignatiitch, and the "ouriadnik" of the Cossacks. Neither the wife nor daughter of the Commandant was in the room. He greeted me in an absent manner. Then, closing the door, he made everybody sit down, except the "ouriadnik," who remained standing, drew a letter from his pocket, and said to us—
"Gentlemen, important news. Listen to what the General writes."
He put on his spectacles and read as follows:—
"To the Commandant of Fort Bélogorsk,
"Captain Mironoff, these. (Secret.)
"I hereby inform you that the fugitive and schismatic Don Cossack, Emelian Pugatchéf, after being guilty of the unpardonable insolence of usurping the name of our late Emperor, Peter III.,49 has assembled a gang of robbers, excited risings in villages on the Yaïk, and taken and oven destroyed several forts, while committing everywhere robberies and murders. In consequence, when you shall receive this, it will be your duty to take such measures as may be necessary against the aforesaid rascally usurper, and, if possible, crush him completely should he venture to attack the fort confided to your care."
"Take such measures as may be necessary," said the Commandant, taking off his spectacles and folding up the paper. "You know it is very easy to say that. The scoundrel seems in force, and we have but a hundred and thirty men, even counting the Cossacks, on whom we must not count too much, be it said, without any reproach to you, Maximitch." The "ouriadnik" smiled. "Nevertheless, let us do our duty, gentlemen. Be ready, place sentries, let there be night patrols in case of attack, shut the gates, and turn out the troops. You, Maximitch, keep a sharp eye on the Cossacks; look to the cannon, and let it be well cleansed; and, above all, let everything be kept secret. Let no one in the fort know anything until the time comes."
After thus giving his orders, Iván Kouzmitch dismissed us. I went out with Chvabrine, speculating upon what we had just heard.
"What do you think of it? How will it all end?" I asked him.
"God knows," said he; "we shall see. As yet there is evidently nothing serious. If, however—"
Then he fell into a brown study while whistling absently a French air.
In spite of all our precautions the news of Pugatchéf's appearance spread all over the fort. Whatever was the respect in which Iván Kouzmitch held his wife, he would not have revealed to her for the world a secret confided to him on military business.
After receiving the General's letter he had rather cleverly got rid of Vassilissa Igorofna by telling her that Father Garasim had heard most extraordinary news from Orenburg, which he was keeping most profoundly dark.
Vassilissa Igorofna instantly had a great wish to go and see the Pope's wife, and, by the advice of Iván Kouzmitch, she took Masha, lest she should be dull all alone.
Left master of the field, Iván Kouzmitch sent to fetch us at once, and took care to shut up Polashka in the kitchen so that she might not spy upon us.
Vassilissa Igorofna came home without having been able to worm anything out of the Pope's wife; she learnt upon coming in that during her absence Iván Kouzmitch had held a council of war, and that Palashka had been locked up. She suspected that her husband had deceived her, and she immediately began overwhelming him with questions. But Iván Kouzmitch was ready for this onset; he did not care in the least, and he boldly answered his curious better-half—
"Look here, little mother, the country-women have taken it into their heads to light fires with straw, and as that might be the cause of a misfortune, I assembled my officers, and I ordered them to watch that the women do not make fires with straw, but rather with faggots and brambles."
"And why were you obliged to shut up Polashka?" his wife asked him. "Why was the poor girl obliged to stay in the kitchen till we came back?"
Iván Kouzmitch was not prepared for such a question; he stammered some incoherent words.
Vassilissa Igorofna instantly understood that her husband had deceived her, but as she could not at that moment get anything out of him, she forebore questioning him, and spoke of some pickled cucumbers which Akoulina Pamphilovna knew how to prepare in a superlative manner. All night long Vassilissa Igorofna lay awake trying to think what her husband could have in his head that she was not permitted to know.
The morrow, on her return from mass, she saw Iwán Ignatiitch busy clearing the cannon of the rags, small stones, bits of wood, knuckle-bones, and all kinds of rubbish that the little boys had crammed it with.
"What can these warlike preparations mean?" thought the Commandant's wife. "Can it be that they are afraid of an attack by the Kirghiz; but then is it likely that Iván Kouzmitch would hide from me such a trifle?"
She called Iwán Ignatiitch, determined to have out of him the secret which was provoking her feminine curiosity.
Vassilissa Igorofna began by making to him some remarks on household matters, like a judge who begins a cross-examination by questions irrelevant to the subject in hand, in order to reassure and lull the watchfulness of the accused. Then, after a few minutes' silence, she gave a deep sigh, and said, shaking her head—
"Oh! good Lord! Just think what news! What will come of all this?"
"Eh! my little mother," replied Iwán Ignatiitch; "the Lord is merciful. We have soldiers enough, and much, powder; I have cleared the cannon. Perhaps we may be able to defeat this Pugatchéf. If God do not forsake us, the wolf will eat none of us here."
"And what manner of man is this Pugatchéf?" questioned the Commandant's wife.
Iwán Ignatiitch saw plainly that he had said too much, and bit his tongue; but it was too late. Vassilissa Igorofna obliged him to tell her all, after giving her word that she would tell no one.
She kept her promise, and did not breathe a word indeed to anyone, save only to the Pope's wife, and that for the very good reason that the good lady's cow, being still out on the steppe, might be "lifted" by the robbers.
Soon everybody was talking of Pugatchéf. The rumours abroad about him were very diverse. The Commandant sent the "ouriadnik" on a mission to look well into all in the neighbouring village and little forts. The "ouriadnik" came back after an absence of two days, and reported that he had seen in the steppe, about sixty versts from the fort, many fires, and that he had heard the Bashkirs say that an innumerable force was approaching. He had nothing of a more detailed or accurate nature to relate, having been afraid of going too far.
We soon began to notice a certain stir among the Cossacks in the garrison. They gathered in all the streets in little groups, spoke among themselves in low voices, and dispersed directly they caught sight of a dragoon or any other Russian soldier. They were watched. Joulaï, a baptized Kalmuck, revealed to the Commandant something very serious. According to him the "ouriadnik" had made a false report. On his return the perfidious Cossack had told his comrades that he had advanced upon the rebels, and that he had been presented to their chief, and that this chief gave him his hand to kiss and had had a long interview with him. At once the Commandant put the "ouriadnik" in arrest, and declared Joulaï his substitute. This change was received by the Cossacks with manifest discontent. They grumbled aloud, and Iwán Ignatiitch, who executed the Commandant's orders, heard them with his own ears say pretty clearly—
"Only wait a bit, you garrison rat!"
The Commandant had intended to cross-examine his prisoner that same day, but the "ouriadnik" had escaped, doubtless with the connivance of his accomplices.
Another thing occurred to augment the Commandant's disquiet; a Bashkir was taken bearing seditious letters. Upon this occasion the Commandant decided upon assembling his officers anew, and in order to do that he wished again to get rid of his wife under some plausible pretext. But as Iván Kouzmitch was one of the most upright and sincere of men he could not think of any other way than that which he had already employed on a previous occasion.
"Do you know, Vassilissa Igorofna," said he to her, while clearing his throat once or twice, "it is said that Father Garosim has received from the town—"
"Hold your tongue," interrupted his wife; "you want again to call a council of war, and talk without me about Emelian Pugatchéf; but you will not deceive me this time."
Iván Kouzmitch opened his eyes wide.
"Well, little mother," said he, "if you know all, stay; there is nothing more to be done, we will talk before you."
"Yes, you are quite right, my little father," rejoined she; "it is of no use your trying to play the sly fox. Send for the officers."
We again met. Iván Kouzmitch read to us, before his wife, Pugatchéf's proclamation, drawn up by some illiterate Cossack. The robber proclaimed his intention of marching directly upon our fort, inviting the Cossacks and the soldiers to join him, and counselling the chiefs not to withstand him, threatening them, should they do so, with the utmost torture.
The proclamation was written in coarse but emphatic terms, and was likely to produce a great impression on the minds of simple people.
"What a rascal," cried the Commandant's wife. "Just look what he dares to propose to us! To go out to meet him and lay our colours at his feet! Oh! the son of a dog! He doesn't then know that we have been forty years in the service, and that, thank heaven, we have had a taste of all sorts! Is it possible that there can have been commandants base and cowardly enough to obey this robber?"
"Such a thing should not be possible," rejoined Iván Kouzmitch; "nevertheless, they say the scoundrel has already got possession of several forts."
"It appears that he is in strength, indeed," observed Chvabrine.
"We shall know directly the amount of his strength," resumed the Commandant. "Vassilissa Igorofna, give me the key of the barn. Iván Ignatiitch, bring up the Bashkir and tell Joulaï to fetch the rods."50
"Wait a bit, Iván Kouzmitch," said the Commandant's wife, rising; "let me take Masha out of the house. Without I do so she would hear the cries, and they would frighten her. And as for me, to tell the truth, I am not over curious about such matters. So hoping to see you again—"
Torture was then so rooted in the practice of justice that the beneficial ukase51 ordaining its abolition remained a long time of none effect. It was thought that the confession of the accused was indispensable to condemnation, an idea not merely unreasonable, but contrary to the dictates of the simplest good sense in legal matters, for, if the denial of the accused be not accepted as proof of his innocence, the extorted confession should still less serve as proof of his guilt. Yet even now I still hear old judges sometimes regret the abolition of this barbarous custom.
But in those days no one ever doubted of the necessity for torture, neither the judges nor the accused themselves. That is why the Commandant's order did not arouse any surprise or emotion among us. Iwán Ignatiitch went off to seek the Bashkir, who was under lock and key in the Commandant's barn, and a few minutes later he was brought into the ante-room. The Commandant ordered him to be brought before him.
The Bashkir crossed the sill with difficulty, owing to the wooden shackles he had on his feet. I glanced at him and involuntarily shuddered.
He lifted his high cap and remained near the door. I shall never forget that man; he seemed to be at least seventy years old, and he had neither nose nor ears. His head was shaven, and his beard consisted of a few grey hairs. He was little of stature, thin and bent; but his Tartar eyes still sparkled.
"Eh! eh!" said the Commandant, who recognized by these terrible marks one of the rebels punished in 1741, "you are an old wolf, by what I see. You have already been caught in our traps. 'Tis not the first time you have rebelled, since you have been so well cropped. Come near and tell me who sent you."
The old Bashkir remained silent, and looked at the Commandant with a look of complete idiocy.
"Well, why don't you speak?" continued Iván Kouzmitch. "Don't you understand Russ? Joulaï, ask him in your language who sent him to our fort."
Joulaï repeated Iván Kouzmitch's question in the Tartar language. But the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression, and spoke never a word.
"Jachki!" the Commandant rapped out a Tartar oath, "I'll make you speak. Here, Joulaï, strip him of his striped dressing-gown, his idiot's dress, and stripe his shoulders. Now then, Joulaï, touch him up properly."
Two pensioners began undressing the Bashkir. Great uneasiness then overspread the countenance of the unhappy man. He began looking all round like a poor little animal in the hands of children. But when one of the pensioners seized his hands in order to twine them round his neck, and, stooping, upraised the old man on his shoulders, when Joulaï took the rods and lifted his hands to strike, then the Bashkir gave a long, deep moan, and, throwing back his head, opened his mouth, wherein, instead of a tongue, was moving a short stump.
We were all horrified.
"Well," said the Commandant, "I see we can get nothing out of him. Joulaï, take the Bashkir back to the barn; and as for us, gentlemen, we have still to deliberate."
We were continuing to discuss our situation, when Vassilissa Igorofna burst into the room, breathless, and looking affrighted.
"What has happened to you?" asked the Commandant, surprised.
"Misery! misery!" replied Vassilissa Igorofna. "Fort Nijnéosern was taken this morning. Father Garasim's boy has just come back. He saw how it was taken. The Commandant and all the officers have been hanged, all the soldiers are prisoners. The rascals are coming here."
This unexpected news made a great impression upon me. The Commandant of Fort Nijnéosern, a gentle and quiet young man, was known to me. Two months previously he had passed on his way from Orenburg with his young wife, and he had stayed with Iván Kouzmitch.
The Nijnéosernaia was only twenty-five versts away from our fort. From hour to hour we might expect to be attacked by Pugatchéf. The probable fate of Marya Ivánofna rose vividly before my imagination, and my heart failed me as I thought of it.
"Listen, Iván Kouzmitch," I said to the Commandant, "it is our duty to defend the fort to the last gasp, that is understood. But we must think of the women's safety. Send them to Orenburg, if the road be still open, or to some fort further off and safer, which the rascals have not yet had time to reach."
Iván Kouzmitch turned to his wife.
"Look here, mother, really, had we not better send you away to some more distant place till the rebels be put down?"
"What nonsense!" replied his wife.
"Show me the fortress that bullets cannot reach. In what respect is Bélogorskaia not safe? Thank heaven, we have now lived here more than twenty-one years. We have seen the Bashkirs and the Kirghiz; perhaps we may weary out Pugatchéf here."
"Well, little mother," rejoined Iván Kouzmitch, "stay if you like, since you reckon so much on our fort. But what are we to do with Masha? It is all right if we weary him out or if we be succoured. But if the robbers take the fort?"
"Well, then—"
But here Vassilissa Igorofna could only stammer and become silent, choked by emotion.
"No, Vassilissa Igorofna," resumed the Commandant, who remarked that his words had made a great impression on his wife, perhaps for the first time in her life; "it is not proper for Masha to stay here. Let us send her to Orenburg to her godmother. There are enough soldiers and cannons there, and the walls are stone. And I should even advise you to go away thither, for though you be old yet think on what will befall you if the fort be taken by assault."
"Well! well!" said the wife, "we will send away Masha; but don't ask me to go away, and don't think to persuade me, for I will do no such thing. It will not suit me either in my old age to part from you and go to seek a lonely grave in a strange land. We have lived together; we will die together."
"And you are right," said the Commandant. "Let us see, there is no time to lose. Go and get Masha ready for her journey; to-morrow we will start her off at daybreak, and we will even give her an escort, though, to tell the truth, we have none too many people here. But where is she?"
"At Akoulina Pamphilovna's," answered his wife. "She turned sick when she heard of the taking of Nijnéosern; I dread lest she should fall ill. Oh! God in heaven! that we should have lived to see this!"
Vassilissa Igorofna went away to make ready for her daughter's departure.
The council at the Commandant's still continued, but I no longer took any part in it. Marya Ivánofna reappeared for supper, pale and her eyes red. We supped in silence, and we rose from table earlier than usual. Each of us returned to his quarters after bidding good-bye to the whole family. I purposely forgot my sword, and came back to fetch it. I felt I should find Marya alone; in fact, she met me in the porch, and handed me my sword.
"Good-bye, Petr' Andréjïtch," she said to me, crying; "they are sending me to Orenburg. Keep well and happy. Mayhap God will allow us to see one another again, if not—"
She began to sob. I pressed her in my arms.
"God be with you, my angel," I said to her. "My darling, my loved one, whatever befall me, rest assured that my last thought and my last prayer will be for you."
Masha still wept, sheltered on my breast. I kissed her passionately, and abruptly went out.
CHAPTER VII. — THE ASSAULT.
All the night I could not sleep, and I did not even take off my clothes. I had meant in the early morning to gain the gate of the fort, by which Marya Ivánofna was to leave, to bid her a last good-bye. I felt that a complete change had come over me. The agitation of my mind seemed less hard to bear than the dark melancholy in which I had been previously plunged. Blended with the sorrow of parting, I felt within me vague, but sweet, hopes, an eager expectation of coming dangers, and a feeling of noble ambition.
The night passed quickly. I was going out, when my door opened and the corporal came in to tell me that our Cossacks had left the fort during the night, taking away with them by force Joulaï, and that around our ramparts unknown people were galloping. The thought that Marya Ivánofna had not been able to get away terrified me to death. I hastily gave some orders to the corporal, and I ran to the Commandant's house.
Day was breaking. I was hurrying down the street when I heard myself called by someone. I stopped.
"Where are you going, if I may presume to ask you?" said Iwán Ignatiitch, catching me up. "Iván Kouzmitch is on the ramparts, and has sent me to seek you. The 'pugatch'52 has come."
"Is Marya Ivánofna gone?" I asked, with an inward trembling.
"She hasn't had time," rejoined Iwán Ignatiitch. "The road to Orenburg is blocked, the fort surrounded, and it's a bad look-out, Petr' Andréjïtch."
We went to the ramparts, a little natural height, and fortified by a palisade. We found the garrison here under arms. The cannon had been dragged hither the preceding evening. The Commandant was walking up and down before his little party; the approach of danger had given the old warrior wonderful activity. Out on the steppe, and not very far from the fort, could be seen about twenty horsemen, who appeared to be Cossacks; but amongst them were some Bashkirs, easily distinguished by their high caps and their quivers. The Commandant passed down the ranks of the little army, saying to the soldiers—
"Now, children, let us do well to-day for our mother, the Empress, and let us show all the world that we are brave men, and true to our oaths."
The soldiers by loud shouts expressed their goodwill and assent. Chvabrine remained near me, attentively watching the enemy. The people whom we could see on the steppe, noticing doubtless some stir in the fort, gathered into parties, and consulted together. The Commandant ordered Iwán Ignatiitch to point the cannon at them, and himself applied the match. The ball passed whistling over their heads without doing them any harm. The horsemen at once dispersed at a gallop, and the steppe was deserted.
At this moment Vassilissa Igorofna appeared on the ramparts, followed by Marya, who had not wished to leave her.
"Well," said the Commandant's wife, "how goes the battle? Where is the enemy?"
"The enemy is not far," replied Iván Kouzmitch; "but if God wills all will be well. And you, Masha, are you afraid?"
"No, papa," replied Marya, "I am more frightened alone in the house."
She glanced at me, trying to smile. I squeezed the hilt of my sword, remembering that I had received it the eve from her hand, as if for her defence. My heart burnt within my breast; I felt as if I were her knight; I thirsted to prove to her that I was worthy of her trust, and I impatiently expected the decisive moment.
All at once, coming from a height about eight versts from the fort, appeared fresh parties of horsemen, and soon the whole steppe became covered with people, armed with arrows and lances. Amongst them, dressed in a red caftan, sword in hand, might be seen a man mounted on a white horse, a conspicuous figure. This was Pugatchéf himself.
He stopped, and they closed round him, and soon afterwards, probably by his orders, four men came out of the crowd, and approached our ramparts at full gallop. We recognized in them some of our traitors. One of them waved a sheet of paper above his head; another bore on the point of his pike the head of Joulaï, which he cast to us over the palisade. The head of the poor Kalmuck rolled to the feet of the Commandant.
The traitors shouted to us—
"Don't fire. Come out to receive the Tzar; the Tzar is here."
"Children, fire!" cried the Commandant for all answer.
The soldiers fired a volley. The Cossack who had the letter quivered and fell from his horse; the others fled at full speed. I glanced at Marya Ivánofna. Spellbound with horror at the sight of Joulaï's head, stunned by the noise of the volley, she seemed unconscious. The Commandant called the corporal, and bid him go and take the paper from the fallen Cossack. The corporal went out into the open, and came back leading by its bridle the dead man's horse. He gave the letter to the Commandant.
Iván Kouzmitch read it in a low voice, and tore it into bits. We now saw that the rebels were making ready to attack. Soon the bullets whistled about our ears, and some arrows came quivering around us in the earth and in the posts of the palisade.
"Vassilissa Igorofna," said the Commandant, "this is not a place for women. Take away Masha; you see very well that the girl is more dead than alive."
Vassilissa Igorofna, whom the sound of the bullets had somewhat subdued, glanced towards the steppe, where a great stir was visible in the crowd, and said to her husband—
"Iván Kouzmitch, life and death are in God's hands; bless Masha. Masha, go to your father."
Pale and trembling, Marya approached Iván Kouzmitch and dropped on her knees, bending before him with reverence.
The old Commandant made the sign of the cross three times over her, then raised her up, kissed her, and said to her, in a voice husky with emotion—
"Well, Masha, may you be happy. Pray to God, and He will not forsake you. If an honest man come forward, may God grant you both love and wisdom. Live together as we have lived, my wife and I. And now farewell, Masha. Vassilissa Igorofna, take her away quickly."
Marya threw herself upon his neck and began sobbing.
"Kiss me, too," said the Commandant's wife, weeping. "Good-bye, my Iván Kouzmitch. Forgive me if I have ever vexed you."
"Good-bye, good-bye, little mother," said the Commandant, embracing his old companion. "There, now, enough; go away home, and if you have time put Masha on a 'sarafan.'"53
The Commandant's wife went away with her daughter. I followed Marya with my eyes; she turned round and made me a last sign.
Iván Kouzmitch came back to us, and turned his whole attention to the enemy. The rebels gathered round their leader, and all at once dismounted hastily.
"Be ready," the Commandant said to us, "the assault is about to begin."
At the same moment resounded wild war cries. The rebels were racing down on the fort. Our cannon was loaded with grape. The Commandant allowed them to approach within a very short distance, and again applied a match to the touch-hole. The grape struck in the midst of the crowd, and dispersed it in every direction. The leader alone remained to the fore, brandishing his sword; he appeared to be exhorting them hotly. The yells which had ceased for a moment were redoubled anew.
"Now, children," cried the Commandant, "open the door, beat the drum, and forward! Follow me for a sally!"
The Commandant, Iwán Ignatiitch, and I found ourselves in a moment beyond the parapet. But the garrison, afraid, had not stirred.
"What are you doing, my children?" shouted Iván Kouzmitch. "If we must die, let us die; it is our duty."
At this moment the rebels fell upon us and forced the entrance of the citadel. The drum ceased, the garrison threw down its arms. I had been thrown down, but I got up and passed helter-skelter with the crowd into the fort. I saw the Commandant wounded in the head, and hard pressed by a little band of robbers clamouring for the keys. I was running to help him, when several strong Cossacks seized me, and bound me with their "kúchaks,"54 shouting—
"Wait a bit, you will see what will become of you traitors to the Tzar!"
We were dragged along the streets. The inhabitants came out of their houses, offering bread and salt. The bells were rung. All at once shouts announced that the Tzar was in the square waiting to receive the oaths of the prisoners. All the crowd diverged in that direction, and our keepers dragged us thither.
Pugatchéf was seated in an armchair on the threshold of the Commandant's house. He wore an elegant Cossack caftan, embroidered down the seams. A high cap of marten sable, ornamented with gold tassels, came closely down over his flashing eyes. His face did not seem unknown to me. The Cossack chiefs surrounded him. Father Garasim, pale and trembling, was standing, cross in hand, at the foot of the steps, and seemed to be silently praying for the victims brought before him. In the square a gallows was being hastily erected. When we came near, some Bashkirs drove back the crowd, and we were presented to Pugatchéf.
The bells ceased clanging, and the deepest silence reigned again.
"Where is the Commandant?" asked the usurper. Our "ouriadnik" came forward and pointed out Iván Kouzmitch. Pugatchéf looked fiercely upon the old man and said to him, "How was it you dared to oppose me, your rightful Emperor?"
The Commandant, enfeebled by his wound, collected his remaining strength, and replied, in a resolute tone—
"You are not my Emperor; you are a usurper and a robber!"
Pugatchéf frowned and waved his white handkerchief. Several Cossacks immediately seized the old Commandant and dragged him away to the gallows. Astride on the crossbeam, sat the disfigured Bashkir who had been cross-examined on the preceding evening; he held a rope in his hand, and I saw the next moment poor Iván Kouzmitch swinging in the air. Then Iwán Ignatiitch was brought before Pugatchéf.
"Swear fidelity," Pugatchéf said to him, "to the Emperor, Petr' Fédorovitch!"55
"You are not our Emperor!" replied the lieutenant, repeating his Commandant's words; "you are a robber, my uncle, and a usurper."
Pugatchéf again gave the handkerchief signal, and good Iwán Ignatiitch swung beside his old chief. It was my turn. Boldly I looked on Pugatchéf and made ready to echo the answer of my outspoken comrades.
Then, to my inexpressible surprise, I saw among the rebels Chvabrine, who had found time to cut his hair short and to put on a Cossack caftan. He approached Pugatchéf, and whispered a few words in his ear.
"Hang him!" said Pugatchéf, without deigning to throw me a look. The rope was passed about my neck. I began saying a prayer in a low voice, offering up to God a sincere repentance for all my sins, imploring Him to save all those who were dear to my heart. I was already at the foot of the gallows.
"Fear nothing! Fear nothing!" the assassins said to me, perhaps to give me courage, when all at once a shout was heard—
"Stop, accursed ones!"
The executioners stayed their hand. I looked up. Savéliitch lay prostrate at the feet of Pugatchéf.
"Oh! my own father!" my poor follower was saying. "What need have you of the death of this noble 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!"
Pugatchéf 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. Pugatchéf 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 abasement.
"My father, Petr' Andréjïtch," whispered Savéliitch 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. Pugatchéf withdrew his hand and said, smiling—
"Apparently his lordship 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 Pugatchéf's hand; the latter told them they were pardoned and enrolled amongst his troops.
All this lasted about three hours. At last Pugatchéf 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 Vassilissa 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 Iván 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 Iván 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 Pugatchéf.
A young Cossack struck her with his sword on the head, and she fell dead at the foot of the steps. Pugatchéf 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 Ivánofna'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-glass 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' Andréjïtch," said she, wringing her hands; "what a day, what horrors!"
"Marya Ivánofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivánofna?"
"The young lady is alive," replied Polashka; "she is hidden at Akoulina Pamphilovna's."
"In the pope's house!" I exclaimed, affrighted. "Good God! Pugatchéf 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; Pugatchéf 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 Ivánofna?" I asked, with indescribable agitation.
"She is in bed, the little dove," replied the pope's wife, "in my bed, behind the partition. Ah! Petr' Andréjïtch, a misfortune very nearly happened. But, thank God, all has passed 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 partition. He drew aside the curtain, looked at her with his hawk's eyes, and nothing more; God 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 God! what have we lived to see! Poor Iván Kouzmitch! who would have thought it! And Vassilissa Igorofna and Iwán Ignatiitch! Why him too? And you, how came it that you were spared? And what do you think of Chvabrine, of Alexy Iványtch? 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' Andréjïtch," 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' Andréjïtch. What must be, must be; and it may be God 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. Savéliitch 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' Andréjïtch, 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 God that they have at least left you your life! But oh! my master, did you recognize their 'atamán?'"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 Pugatchéf to my guide was indeed striking. I ended by feeling certain that he and Pugatchéf 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 Savéliitch, 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 circumstances in which it was now situated.
But my love urged me no less strongly to stay by Marya Ivánofna, 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.
My reflections were broken by the arrival of a Cossack, who came running to tell me that the great Tzar summoned me to his presence.
"Where is he?" I asked, hastening to obey.
"In the Commandant's house," replied the Cossack. "After dinner our father went to the bath; now he is resting. Ah, sir! you can see he is a person of importance—he deigned at dinner to eat two roast sucking-pigs; and then he went into the upper part of the vapour-bath, where it was so hot that Tarass Kurotchkin himself could not stand it; he passed the broom to Bikbaieff, and only recovered by dint of cold water. You must agree; his manners are very majestic, and in the bath, they say, he showed his marks of Tzar—on one of his breasts a double-headed eagle as large as a pétak,58 and on the other his own face."
I did not think it worth while to contradict the Cossack, and I followed him into the Commandant's house, trying to imagine beforehand my interview with Pugatchéf, and to guess how it would end.
The reader will easily believe me when I say that I did not feel wholly reassured.
It was getting dark when I reached the house of the Commandant.
The gallows, with its victims, stood out black and terrible; the body of the Commandant's poor wife still lay beneath the porch, close by two Cossacks, who were on guard.
He who had brought me went in to announce my arrival. He came back almost directly, and ushered me into the room where, the previous evening, I had bidden good-bye to Marya Ivánofna.
I saw a strange scene before me. At a table covered with a cloth and laden with bottles and glasses was seated Pugatchéf, surrounded by ten Cossack chiefs, in high caps and coloured shirts, heated by wine, with flushed faces and sparkling eyes. I did not see among them the new confederates lately sworn in, the traitor Chvabrine and the "ouriadnik."
"Ah, ah! so it is you, your lordship," said Pugatchéf, upon seeing me. "You are welcome. All honour to you, and a place at our feast."
The guests made room. I sat down in silence at the end of the table.
My neighbour, a tall and slender young Cossack, with a handsome face, poured me out a bumper of brandy, which I did not touch. I was busy noting the company.
Pugatchéf was seated in the place of honour, his elbows on the table, and resting his black beard on his broad fist. His features, regular and agreeable, wore no fierce expression. He often addressed a man of about fifty years old, calling him sometimes Count, sometimes Timofeitsh, sometimes Uncle.
Each man considered himself as good as his fellow, and none showed any particular deference to their chief. They were talking of the morning's assault, of the success of the revolt, and of their forthcoming operations.
Each man bragged of his prowess, proclaimed his opinions, and freely contradicted Pugatchéf. And it was decided to march upon Orenburg, a bold move, which was nearly crowned with success. The departure was fixed for the day following.
The guests drank yet another bumper, rose from table, and took leave of Pugatchéf. I wished to follow them, but Pugatchéf said—
"Stay there, I wish to speak to you!"
We remained alone together, and for a few moments neither spoke.
Pugatchéf looked sharply at me, winking from time to time his left eye with an indefinable expression of slyness and mockery. At last he gave way to a long burst of laughter, and that with such unfeigned gaiety that I myself, regarding him, began to laugh without knowing why.
"Well, your lordship," said he, "confess you were afraid when my fellows cast the rope about your neck. I warrant the sky seemed to you the size of a sheepskin. And you would certainly have swung beneath the cross-beam but for your old servant. I knew the old owl again directly. Well, would you ever have thought, sir, that the man who guided you to a lodging in the steppe was the great Tzar himself?" As he said these words he assumed a grave and mysterious air. "You are very guilty as regards me," resumed he, "but I have pardoned you on account of your courage, and because you did me a good turn when I was obliged to hide from my enemies. But you shall see better things; I will load you with other favours when I shall have recovered my empire. Will you promise to serve me zealously?"
The robber's question and his impudence appeared to be so absurd that I could not restrain a smile.
"Why do you laugh?" he asked, frowning. "Do you not believe me to be the great Tzar? Answer me frankly."
I did not know what to do. I could not recognize a vagabond as Emperor; such conduct was to me unpardonably base. To call him an impostor to his face was to devote myself to death; and the sacrifice for which I was prepared on the gallows, before all the world, and in the first heat of my indignation, appeared to me a useless piece of bravado. I knew not what to say.
Pugatchéf awaited my reply in fierce silence. At last (and I yet recall that moment with satisfaction) the feeling of duty triumphed in me over human weakness, and I made reply to Pugatchéf—
"Just listen, and I will tell you the whole truth. You shall be judge. Can I recognize in you a Tzar? You are a clever man; you would see directly that I was lying."
"Who, then, am I, according to you?"
"God alone knows; but whoever you be, you are playing a dangerous game."
Pugatchéf cast at me a quick, keen glance.
"You do not then think that I am the Tzar Peter? Well, so let it be. Is there no chance of success for the bold? In former times did not Grischka Otrépieff59 reign? Think of me as you please, but do not leave me. What does it matter to you whether it be one or the other? He who is pope is father. Serve me faithfully, and I will make you a field-marshal and a prince. What do you say to this?"
"No," I replied, firmly. "I am a gentleman. I have sworn fidelity to Her Majesty the Tzarina; I cannot serve you. If you really wish me well, send me back to Orenburg."
Pugatchéf reflected.
"But if I send you away," said he, "will you promise me at least not to bear arms against me?"
"How can you expect me to promise you that?" replied I. "You know yourself that that does not depend upon me. If I be ordered to march against you I must submit. You are a chief now—you wish your subordinates to obey you. How can I refuse to serve if I am wanted? My head is at your disposal; if you let me go free, I thank you; if you cause me to die, may God judge you. Howbeit, I have told you the truth."
My outspoken candour pleased Pugatchéf.
"E'en so let it be," said he, clapping me on the shoulder; "either entirely punish or entirely pardon. Go to the four winds and do what seems good in your eyes, but come to-morrow and bid me good-bye; and now begone to bed—I am sleepy myself."
I left Pugatchéf, and went out into the street. The night was still and cold, the moon and stars, sparkling with all their brightness, lit up the square and the gallows. All was quiet and dark in the rest of the fort. Only in the tavern were lights still to be seen, and from within arose the shouts of the lingering revellers.
I threw a glance at the pope's house. The doors and the shutters were closed; all seemed perfectly quiet there. I went home and found Savéliitch deploring my absence. The news of my regained liberty overwhelmed him with joy.
"Thanks be to Thee, O Lord!" said he, making the sign of the cross. "We will leave the fort to-morrow at break of day and we will go in God's care. I have prepared something for you; eat, my father, and sleep till morning quietly, as though in the pocket of Christ!"
I took his advice, and, after having supped with a good appetite, I went to sleep on the bare boards, as weary in mind as in body.