Works of Alexander Pushkin (97 page)

Here Dubrovsky covered his face with his hands; he seemed to be choking. Masha wept.

“My miserable, miserable fate!” said he, with a bitter sigh. “For you I would have given my life. To see you from afar, to touch your hand was for me happiness beyond expression; and when I see before me the possibility of pressing you to my agitated heart, and saying to you: ‘Angel, let us die’ — miserable creature that I am! I must fly from such happiness, I must put it from me with all my strength. I dare not throw myself at your feet and thank Heaven for an unthinkable, unmerited reward. Oh! how I ought to hate him who — but I feel that now there is no place in my heart for hatred.”

He gently passed his arm round her slender figure and pressed her tenderly to his heart. Confidingly she leaned her head upon the young brigand’s shoulder. Both were silent.... Time flew.

“I must go,” said Masha at last.

Dubrovsky seemed to awaken from a dream. He took her hand and placed a ring on her finger.

“If you decide upon having recourse to me,” said he, “then bring the ring here and place it in the hollow of this oak. I shall know what to do.”

Dubrovsky kissed her hand and disappeared among the trees.

XVI

PRINCE VEREYSKY’S intention of getting married was no longer a secret to the neighbors. Kirila Petrovich was receiving congratulations and preparations were being made for the wedding. Masha postponed from day to day the decisive explanation. In the meantime her manner toward her elderly fiancé was cold and constrained. The Prince did not trouble himself about that; the question of love gave him no concern; her silent consent was quite sufficient for him.

But time was passing. Masha at last decided to act, and wrote a letter to Prince Vereysky. She tried to awaken within his heart a feeling of magnanimity, candidly confessing that she had not the least attachment for him, and entreating him to renounce her hand and even to protect her from the tyranny of her father. She furtively handed the letter to Prince Vereysky. The latter read it alone, but was not in the least moved by the candor of his betrothed. On the contrary, he perceived the necessity of hastening the marriage, and therefore he showed the letter to his future father- in-law.

Kirila Petrovich was furious, and it was with difficulty that the Prince succeeded in persuading him not to let Masha see that he knew of the letter. Kirila Petrovich agreed not to speak about the matter to her, but he resolved to lose no time and fixed the wedding for the next day. The Prince found this very reasonable, and he went to his betrothed and told her that her letter had grieved him very much, but that he hoped in time to gain her affection; that the thought of resigning her was too much for him to bear, and that he had not the strength to consent to his own death sentence. Then he kissed her hand respectfully and took his departure, without saying a word to her about Kirila Petrovich’s decision.

But scarcely had he left the house, when her father entered and peremptorily ordered her to be ready for the next day. Marya Kirilovna, already agitated by the interview with Prince Vereysky, burst into tears and threw herself at her father’s feet.

“Papa!” she cried in a plaintive voice, “papa! do not destroy me. I do not love the Prince, I do not wish to be his wife.”

“What does this mean?” said Kirila Petrovich, fiercely. “All this time you have kept silent as though you consented, and now, when everything is settled you become capricious and refuse to accept him. Don’t play the fool; you will gain nothing from me that way.”

“Do not destroy me!” repeated poor Masha. “Why are you sending me away from you and giving me to a man that I do not love? Are you tired of me? I want to stay with you as before. Papa, you will be sad without me, and sadder still when you know that I am unhappy. Papa, do not force me: I do not wish to marry.”

Kirila Petrovich was touched, but he concealed his emotion, and pushing her away from him, said harshly:

“That is all nonsense, do you hear? I know better than you what is necessary for your happiness. Tears will not help you. The day after tomorrow your wedding will take place.”

“The day after tomorrow!” exclaimed Masha. “My God! No, no, impossible; it cannot be! Papa, hear me; if you have resolved to destroy me, then I will find a protector that you do not dream of. You will see, and then you will regret having driven me to despair.”

“What? What?” said Troyekurov. “Threats! You threaten me? Insolent girl! You will see that I will do something to you that you little imagine. You dare to threaten me! Let us see, who will this protector be?”

“Vladimir Dubrovsky,” replied Masha, in despair.

Kirila Petrovich thought that she had gone out of her mind, and looked at her in astonishment.

“Very well!” he said to her, after an interval of silence; “expect whom you please to deliver you, but, in the meantime, remain in this room — you shall not leave it till the very moment of the wedding.”

With these words Kirila Petrovich went out, locking the door behind him.

For a long time the poor girl wept, imagining all that awaited her. But the stormy interview had eased her soul, and she could more calmly consider the question of her future and what it behoved her to do. The principal thing was — to escape this odious marriage. The lot of a brigand’s wife seemed paradise to her in comparison with the fate prepared for her. She glanced at the ring given to her by Dubrovsky. Ardently did she long to see him alone once more and take counsel with him before the decisive moment. A presentiment told her that in the evening she would find Dubrovsky in the garden, near the arbor; she resolved to go and wait for him there.

As soon as it began to grow dark, Masha prepared to carry out her intention, but the door of her room was locked. Her maid told her from the other side of the door, that Kirila Petrovich had given orders that she was not to be let out. She was under arrest. Deeply hurt, she sat down by the window and remained there till late in the night, without undressing, gazing fixedly at the dark sky. Toward dawn she dozed off, but her light sleep was disturbed by sad visions, and she was soon awakened by the rays of the rising sun.

XVII

SHE AWOKE, and all the horror of her position rose up in her mind. She rang. The maid entered, and in answer to her questions, replied that Kirila Petrovich had been to Arbatovo the previous evening, and had returned very late; that he had given strict orders that she was not to be allowed out of her room and that nobody was to be permitted to speak to her; that otherwise, there were no signs of any particular preparations for the wedding, except that the priest had been ordered not to leave the village under any pretext whatever. After giving her this news, the maid left Marya Kirilovna and again locked the door.

Her words hardened the young prisoner. Her head burned, her blood boiled. She resolved to inform Dubrovsky of everything, and she began to think of some means by which she could get the ring conveyed to the hollow in the chosen oak. At that moment a stone struck against her window; the glass rattled, and Marya Kirilovna, looking out into the courtyard, saw little Sasha making signs to her. She knew that he was attached to her, and she was pleased to see him. She opened the window.

“Good morning, Sasha; why do you call me?”

“I came, sister, to know if you wanted anything. Papa is angry, and has forbidden the whole house to do anything for you; but order me to do whatever you like, and I will do it for you.”

“Thank you, my dear Sasha. Listen; you know the old hollow oak near the arbor?”

“Yes, I know it, sister.”

“Then, if you love me, run there as quickly as you can and put this ring in the hollow; but take care that nobody sees you.”

With these words, she threw the ring to him and closed the window.

The lad picked up the ring, and ran off with all his might, and in three minutes he arrived at the chosen tree. There he paused, quite out of breath, and after looking round on every side, placed the ring in the hollow. Having successfully accomplished his mission, he wanted to inform Marya Kirilovna of the fact at once, when suddenly a red-haired, cross-eyed boy in rags darted out from behind the arbor, dashed toward the oak and thrust his hand into the hole. Sasha, quicker than a squirrel, threw himself upon him and seized him with both hands.

“What are you doing here?” said he sternly.

“What business is that of yours?” said the boy, trying to disengage himself.

“Leave that ring alone, red head,” cried Sasha, “or I will teach you a lesson in my own style.”

Instead of replying, the boy gave him a blow in the face with his fist; but Sasha still held him firmly in his grasp, and cried out at the top of his voice:

“Thieves! thieves! help! help!”

The boy tried to get away from him. He seemed to be about two years older than Sasha, and very much stronger; but Sasha was more agile. They struggled together for some minutes; at last the red-headed boy gained the advantage. He threw Sasha upon the ground and seized him by the throat. But at that moment a strong hand grasped hold of his shaggy red hair, and Stepan, the gardener, lifted him half a yard from the ground.

“Ah! you red-headed beast!” said the gardener. “How dare you strike the young gentleman?”

In the meantime, Sasha had jumped to his feet and recovered himself.

“You caught me under the arm-pits,” said he, “or you would never have thrown me. Give me the ring at once and be off.”

“It’s likely!” replied the red-headed one, and suddenly twisting himself round, he freed his mop from Ste- pan’s hand.

Then he started off running, but Sasha overtook him, gave him a blow in the back, and the boy fell. The gardener again seized him and bound him with his belt.

“Give me the ring!” cried Sasha.

“Wait a moment, young master,” said Stepan; “we will take him to the bailiff to be questioned.”

The gardener led the captive into the courtyard of the manor-house, accompanied by Sasha, who glanced uneasily at his torn and grass-stained trousers. Suddenly all three found themselves face to face with Kirila Petrovich, who was going to inspect his stables.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said to Stepan.

Stepan in a few words related all that had happened.

Kirila Petrovich listened to him with attention.

“You rascal,” said he, turning to Sasha: “why did you get into a fight with him?”

“He stole a ring from the hollow, papa; make him give up the ring.”

“What ring? From what hollow?”

“The one that Marya Kirilovna... that ring....” Sasha stammered and became confused. Kirila Petrovich frowned and said, shaking his head:

“Ah! Marya Kirilovna is mixed up in this. Confess everything, or I will give you such a thrashing as you have never had in your life.”

“As true as Heaven, papa, I... papa... Marya Kirilovna never told me to do anything, papa.”

“Stepan, go and cut me some fine, fresh birch switches.”

“Stop, papa, I will tell you all. I was running about the courtyard today, when sister opened the window. I ran toward her, and she opened the window and dropped a ring, not on purpose, and I went and hid it in the hollow, and... and this red-headed fellow wanted to steal the ring.”

“She dropped it, not on purpose — you wanted to hide it... Stepan, go and get the switches.”

“Papa, wait, I will tell you everything. Sister told me to run to the oak tree and put the ring in the hollow; I ran and did so, but this nasty fellow — ”

Kirila Petrovich turned to the “nasty fellow” and said to him sternly:

“To whom do you belong?”

“I am a house-serf of the Dubrovsky’s,” answered the red-headed boy.

Kirila Petrovich’s face darkened.

“It seems, then, that you do not recognize me as your master. Very well. What were you doing in my garden?”

“Stealing raspberries,” the boy answered with complete indifference.

“Aha! like master, like servant. As the priest is, so is his parish. And do my raspberries grow upon oak trees?”

The boy made no reply.

“Papa, make him give up the ring,” said Sasha.

“Silence, Alexander!” replied Kirila Petrovich; “don’t forget that I intend to settle with you presently. Go to your room. And you, squint-eyes, you seem a clever lad; if you confess everything to me, I will not whip you, but will give you a five-copeck piece to buy nuts with. Give up the ring and go home.”

The boy opened his fist and showed that there was nothing in his hand.

“If you don’t, I shall do something to you that you little expect. Now!”

The boy did not answer a word, but stood with his head bent, looking like a perfect simpleton.

“Very well!” said Kirila Petrovich: “lock him up somewhere, and see that he does not escape, or I ‘ll flay everyone of you.”

Stepan conducted the boy to the pigeon-house, locked him in there, and ordered the old poultry woman, Agafya, to keep a watch upon him.

“There is no doubt about it: she has been in touch with that accursed Dubrovsky. But can it be that she has really asked his help?” thought Kirila Petrovich, pacing up and down the room, and whistling “Thunder of Victory,” angrily — ”Perhaps I am hot upon his track, and he will not escape us. We shall take advantage of this opportunity.... Hark! a bell; thank God, that is the sheriff. Bring here the boy that is locked up.”

Meanwhile, a small carriage drove into the courtyard, and our old acquaintance, the sheriff, entered the room, all covered with dust.

“Glorious news!” said Kirila Petrovich: “I have caught Dubrovsky.”

“Thank God, Your Excellency!” said the sheriff, his face beaming with delight. “Where is he?”

“That is to say, not Dubrovsky himself, but one of his band. He will be here presently. He will help us to catch his chief. Here he is.”

The sheriff, who expected to see some fierce-looking brigand, was astonished to perceive a thirteen-year-old lad, of somewhat delicate appearance. He turned to Kirila Petrovich with an incredulous look, and awaited an explanation. Kirila Petrovich then began to relate the events of the morning, without, however, mentioning the name of Marya Kirilovna.