Works of Alexander Pushkin (50 page)

Saveliitch was as motionless as if lightning had struck him. “Have mercy on me! my lord,” said he, “what do you deign to tell me? I caused your wound? God sees that I was running to put my breast before you, to receive the sword of Alexis. This cursed age of mine hindered me. But what have I done to your mother?”

“What have you done? Who charged you to write an accusation against me? Were you taken into my service to play the spy on me?”

“I write an accusation?” replied the old man, quite broken down, “O God! King of heaven! Here, read what the master writes me, and you shall see if I denounced thee.” At the same time he drew from his pocket a letter which he gave me, and I read what follows:

“Shame upon you, you old dog, that notwithstanding my strict orders you wrote me nothing regarding my son, leaving to strangers the duty of telling me of his follies. Is it thus you do your duty and fulfill your master’s will? I shall send you to keep the pigs, for having concealed the truth, and for your condescension to the young man. Upon receipt of this letter inform me immediately of the state of his health, which is, I hear, improving, and tell me precisely the place of his wound, and whether he has well attended.”

Evidently Saveliitch was not in the wrong, and I had offended him by my suspicions and reproaches. I asked him to forgive me, but the old man was inconsolable. “See to what I have lived!” he repeated; “see what thanks I have merited from my masters for all my long services! I am an old dog! I am a swine-herd, and more than all that, I caused your wound. No, no, Peter, I am not in fault, it is the cursed Frenchman who taught thee to play with these steel blades, and to stamp and dance, as if by thrusting and dancing you could defend yourself from a bad man.”

Now, then, who had taken the pains to accuse me to my father? The General, Andrew Karlovitch? He did not trouble himself much about me; moreover, Ivan Mironoff had not thought it worth while to report my duel to him. My suspicions fell on Alexis. He only would find some advantage in this information, the consequence of which might be my dismissal from the fortress and separation from the Commandant’s family. I went to tell every thing to Marie. She met me on the doorstep.

“What has happened to you? how pale you are!”

“All’s over,” I replied, handing her my father’s letter.

It was her turn to blanch. Having read the letter she returned it, and said in a trembling voice: “It was not my destiny. Your parents do not wish me in their family; may the will of God be done! He knows better than we what is best for us. There is nothing to be done in the matter, Peter; you, at least, may be happy.”

“It shall not be so,” I exclaimed, taking her hand. “You love me, I am ready for any fate. Let us go and throw ourselves at your parents’ feet. They are simple people; they are neither haughty nor cruel; they will give us their benediction; we will marry; and in time, I am sure, we will soften my father. My mother will intercede for us, and he will pardon me.”

“No, Peter, I will not marry you without the benediction of your parents. You would not be happy without their blessing. Let us submit to the will of God. If you meet another bride, if you love her, may God be with you! I, Peter, I will pray for both of you.” Tears interrupted her, and she went away; I wished to follow her into the house, but I was not master of myself, and I went to my own quarters. I was plunged in melancholy, when Saveliitch came to interrupt my reflections.

“There, my lord,” said he, presenting me a sheet of paper all covered with writing, “see if I am a spy on my master, and if I try to embroil father and son.”

I took the paper from his hand; it was his reply to my father’s letter.

I could not help smiling at the old man’s letter. I was in no condition to write to my father, and to calm my mother his letter seemed sufficient.

From that day, Marie scarcely spoke to me, and even tried to avoid me. The Commandant’s house became insupportable, and I accustomed myself, little by little, to remain alone in my room. At first Basilia reasoned with me, but seeing my persistency she let me alone. I saw Ivan Mironoff only when the service required it. I had but rare interviews with Alexis, for whom my antipathy increased, because I thought I discovered in him a secret enmity which confirmed my suspicions. Life became a burden; I gave myself up to a melancholy which was fed by solitude and inaction. Love burned on in silence and tortured me, more and more. I lost all taste for reading and literature; I let myself become completely depressed; and I feared that I should either become a lunatic or rush into dissipation, when events occurred that had great influence on my life and give a strong and healthy tone to my mind.

VI. POUGATCHEFF.

Before beginning the recital of the strange events of which I was witness, I ought to say a few words about the situation of affairs toward the end of the year 1773. The rich and vast province of Orenbourg was inhabited by a number of tribes, half civilized, who had just recognized the sovereignty of the Russian Czars. Their continual revolts, their impatience of law and civilized life, their inconstancy and cruelty, demanded on the part of the government a constant watchfulness to reduce them to obedience. Fortresses had been erected in favorable places, and Cossacks, the former possessors of the shores of the Iaik, in many places formed a part of the garrisons. But these very Cossacks, who should have guaranteed the peace and security of their districts, were restless and dangerous subjects of the empire. In 1772 a riot occurred in one of their chief towns. This riot was caused by the severity of the measures employed by General Traubenberg to bring the army to obedience. The only result of these measures was the barbarous murder of Traubenberg, a change of Imperial officers, and in the end, by force of grape and canister, the suppression of the riot.

This happened shortly before my arrival at the fortress of Belogorsk. Then all seemed quiet. But the authorities had too easily believed in the feigned repentance of the rebels, who nursed their hate in silence, and only awaited a propitious moment to recommence the struggle.

I return to my story. Once evening, it was in the month of October, 1773, I was alone in the house, listening to the whistling of the Autumn winds, and watching the clouds gliding rapidly before the moon. An order came from the Commandant, calling me to his presence. I went that instant. I found there Alexis, Ignatius and the Corporal of the Cossacks, but neither the wife nor daughter of the Commandant. My chief bade me good evening, had the door closed, and every one seated, except the Corporal who remained standing; then he drew a paper from his pocket and said to us:

“Gentlemen, important news! Listen to what the General writes.” He put on his spectacles and read:

“To the Commandant of the Fortress of Belogorsk, Captain Mironoff.
Confidential
. I hereby inform you that the deserter and turbulent Cossack of the Don, Imiliane Pougatcheff, after having been guilty of the unpardonable insolence of usurping the name of the deceased Emperor Peter III, has assembled a troop of brigands, disturbed the villages of the Iaik, and has even taken and destroyed several fortresses, at the same time committing everywhere robberies and assassinations. Therefore, upon the receipt of this, you will, Captain, bethink you of the measures to be taken to repulse the said robber and usurper; and if possible, in case he turn his arms against the fortress confided to your care, to completely exterminate him.”

“It is easy to talk,” said the Commandant, taking off his spectacles, and folding the paper; “but we must use every precaution. The rascal seems strong, and we have only 130 men, even adding the Cossacks, upon whom there is no dependence, be it said without reproach to thee, Maxim.” The Corporal of the Cossacks smiled. “Gentlemen, let us do our part; be vigilant, post sentries, establish night patrols; in case of an attack, shut the gates and call out the soldiers. Maxim, watch well your Cossacks. It is necessary to examine the cannon and clean it; and above all to keep the secret, that no one in the fortress should know any thing before the time.”

Having given his orders, Ivan Mironoff dismissed us. I went out with Alexis, speculating on what we had heard. “What do you think of it? How will this end?” I asked him.

“God knows,” he replied, “we shall see. At present there is no danger.” And he began, as if thinking, to hum a French air.

Notwithstanding our precautions the news of the apparition of Pougatcheff spread through the fortress. However great the respect of Ivan Mironoff for his wife, he would not reveal to her for anything in the world a military secret. When he had received the General’s letter he very adroitly rid himself of Basilia by telling her that the Greek priest had received from Orenbourg extraordinary news which he kept a great mystery. Thereupon Basilia desired to pay a visit to Accouline, the clergyman’s wife, and by Mironoff’s advice Marie went also. Master of the situation, Ivan Mironoff locked up the maid in the kitchen and assembled us.

Basilia came home without news, and learned that during her absence a council of war had been held, and that Polacca was imprisoned in the kitchen. She suspected that her husband had deceived her, and overwhelmed him with questions. He was prepared for the attack, and stoutly replied to his curious better-half:

“You see, my dear, the women about the country have been using straw to kindle their fires; now as that might be dangerous, I assembled my officers, and gave them orders to prevent these women lighting fires with anything but fagots and brushwood.”

“And why did you lock up Polacca in the kitchen till my return?” Ivan Mironoff had not foreseen that question, and muttered some incoherent words. Basilia saw at once her husband’s perfidy, but knowing that she could extract nothing from him at that moment, she ceased her questioning, and spoke of the pickled cucumbers which Accouline knew how to prepare in a superior fashion. That night Basilia never closed an eye, unable to imagine what it was that her husband knew that she could not share with him.

The next day, returning from mass, she saw Ignatius cleaning the cannon, taking out rags, pebbles, bits of wood, and all sorts of rubbish which the small boys had stuffed there. “What means these warlike preparations?” thought the Commandant’s wife? “Is an attack from the Kirghis feared? Is it possible that Mironoff would hide from me so mere a trifle?” She called Ignatius, determined to know the secret that excited her woman’s curiosity. Basilia began by making some remarks about household matters, like a judge who begins his interrogation with questions foreign to the affair, in order to reassure the accused, and throw him off his guard. Then having paused a moment she sighed and shook her head, saying: “O God! what news! what news! What will become of us?”

“My dear lady,” said Ignatius, “the Lord is merciful; we have soldiers and plenty of powder; I have cleaned the cannon. We may repulse this Pougatcheff. If the Lord is with us, the wolf will eat no one here.”

“Who is Pougatcheff?” asked the Commandant’s wife.

Ignatius saw that he had gone too far, and he bit his tongue. But it was too late. Basilia constrained him to tell her all, having given her word to keep the secret. She kept her word, and indeed told no one except Accoulina, whose cow was still on the steppe and might be carried off by the brigands. Soon every one talked of Pougatcheff, the current reports being very different. The Commandant sent out the Corporal to pick up information about him in all the neighboring villages and little forts. The Corporal returned after an absence of two days, and declared that he had seen on the steppe, sixty versts from the fortress, a great many fires, and that he had heard the Bashkirs say that an innumerable force was advancing. He could not tell anything definitely, having been afraid to venture farther.

Great agitation was soon after this observed amongst the Cossacks of our garrison. They assembled in groups in the streets, speaking in a low tone amongst themselves, and dispersing as soon as they perceived a dragoon or other Russian soldier. Orders were given to watch them. Zoulac, a baptized Kalmouk, made a very grave revelation to the Commandant. According to the Kalmouk, the Cossack made a false report; for to his comrades the perfidious Corporal said that he had advanced to the rebel camp, had been presented to their rebel chief, had kissed his hand and conversed with him. The Commandant ordered the Corporal under arrest, and replaced him by the Kalmouk. This change was received by the Cossacks with visible discontent. They openly murmured and Ignatius, when executing the Commandant’s order, heard them say, with his own ears, “wait, garrison rat, wait!”

The Commandant decided to examine the Corporal that same day, but he had escaped, no doubt, by the aid of his brother Cossacks. Another event increased the Captain’s uneasiness. A Bashkir was seized bearing seditious letters. Upon this occasion, the Commandant decided to call at once a council, and in order to do so, wished to send away his wife under some specious pretext. But as Mironoff was the simplest and most truthful of men, he could think of no other device than that already employed.

“You see, Basilia,” said he, coughing several times, “Father Garasim has, it is said, been to the city — ”

“Silence! silence!” interrupted his wife; “you are going to call another council and talk in my absence of Imiliane Pougatcheff, but this time you can not deceive me.”

The Captain stared; “Eh! well! my dear,” said he, “since you know all, stay; we may as well speak before you.”

“You cannot play the fox,” said his wife; “send for the officers.”

We assembled again. The Commandant read, before his wife, Pougatcheff’s proclamation, written by some half-educated Cossack. The brigand declared to us his intention of marching directly upon our fortress, inviting the Cossacks and soldiers to join him, and advising the chiefs not to resist, threatening, in that case, extremest torture. The proclamation was written in vulgar but energetic terms, and must have produced an impression upon simple-minded people.

“What a rascal!” exclaimed the Captain’s wife. “Just see what he proposes. To go out and meet him and lay our flags at his feet. Ah! the son of a dog! He does not know that we have been forty years in service, and that, thank God, we have seen all sorts of military life. Is it possible to find a Commandant cowardly enough to obey this robber?”