I saw nothing but a little village,
surrounded
by a wooden
palisade.
palisade.
Pushkin - Daughter of the Commandant
It was very like a boat on a stormy sea.
Saveliitch groaned deeply as every moment he fell upon me. I lowered the
_tsinofka_,[16] I rolled myself up in my cloak and I went to sleep,
rocked by the whistle of the storm and the lurching of the sledge. I had
then a dream that I have never forgotten, and in which I still see
something prophetic, as I recall the strange events of my life. The
reader will forgive me if I relate it to him, as he knows, no doubt, by
experience how natural it is for man to retain a vestige of superstition
in spite of all the scorn for it he may think proper to assume.
I had reached the stage when the real and unreal begin to blend into the
first vague visions of drowsiness. It seemed to me that the snowstorm
continued, and that we were wandering in the snowy desert. All at once I
thought I saw a great gate, and we entered the courtyard of our house.
My first thought was a fear that my father would be angry at my
involuntary return to the paternal roof, and would attribute it to a
premeditated disobedience. Uneasy, I got out of my _kibitka_, and I saw
my mother come to meet me, looking very sad.
"Don't make a noise," she said to me. "Your father is on his death-bed,
and wishes to bid you farewell. "
Struck with horror, I followed her into the bedroom. I look round; the
room is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking sad
and cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the curtain, and
said--
"Andrej Petrovitch, Petrousha has come back; he came back having heard
of your illness. Give him your blessing. "
I knelt down. But to my astonishment instead of my father I saw in the
bed a black-bearded peasant, who regarded me with a merry look. Full of
surprise, I turned towards my mother.
"What does this mean? " I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing? "
"It is the same thing, Petrousha," replied my mother. "That person is
your _godfather_. [17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you. "
I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the bed,
quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood. The terrible peasant called me gently, saying to me--
"Fear nothing, come near; come and let me bless you. "
Fear had stupified me. . . .
At this moment I awoke. The horses had stopped; Saveliitch had hold of
my hand.
"Get out, excellency," said he to me; "here we are. "
"Where? " I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"At our night's lodging. Heaven has helped us; we came by chance right
upon the hedge by the house. Get out, excellency, as quick as you can,
and let us see you get warm. "
I got out of the _kibitka_. The snowstorm still raged, but less
violently. It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been
blind. The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath
the skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily
clean, lit by a _loutchina_. [18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a
high Cossack cap.
Our host, a Cossack of the Yaik,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still
fresh and hale. Saveliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a
fire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I
never had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.
"What has become of our guide? Where is he? " I asked Saveliitch.
"Here, your excellency," replied a voice from above.
I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard
and two sparkling eyes.
"Well, are you cold? "
"How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? I
had a _touloup_, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in
pawn at the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen. "
At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling _samovar_. [20] I
offered our guide a cup of tea. He at once jumped down.
I was struck by his appearance. He was a man about forty, middle height,
thin, but broad-shouldered. His black beard was beginning to turn grey;
his large quick eyes roved incessantly around. In his face there was an
expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His hair was cut
short. He wore a little torn _armak_,[21] and wide Tartar trousers.
I offered him a cup of tea; he tasted it, and made a wry face.
"Do me the favour, your excellency," said he to me, "to give me a glass
of brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea. "
I willingly acceded to his desire. The host took from one of the shelves
of the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked him
well in the face--
"Well, well," said he, "so here you are again in our part of the world.
Where, in heaven's name, do you come from now? "
My guide winked in a meaning manner, and replied by the well-known
saying--
"The sparrow was flying about in the orchard; he was eating hempseed;
the grandmother threw a stone at him, and missed him. And you, how are
you all getting on? "
"How are we all getting on? " rejoined the host, still speaking in
proverbs.
"Vespers were beginning to ring, but the wife of the _pope_[22] forbid
it; the pope went away on a visit, and the devils are abroad in the
churchyard. "
"Shut up, uncle," retorted the vagabond. "When it rains there will be
mushrooms, and when you find mushrooms you will find a basket to put
them in. But now" (he winked a second time) "put your axe behind your
back,[23] the gamekeeper is abroad. To the health of your excellency. "
So saying he took the glass, made the sign of the cross, and swallowed
his brandy at one gulp, then, bowing to me, returned to his lair above
the stove.
I could not then understand a single word of the thieves' slang they
employed. It was only later on that I understood that they were talking
about the army of the Yaik, which had only just been reduced to
submission after the revolt of 1772. [24]
Saveliitch listened to them talking with a very discontented manner, and
cast suspicious glances, sometimes on the host and sometimes on the
guide.
The kind of inn where we had sought shelter stood in the very middle of
the steppe, far from the road and from any dwelling, and certainly was
by no means unlikely to be a robber resort. But what could we do? We
could not dream of resuming our journey. Saveliitch's uneasiness amused
me very much. I stretched myself on a bench. My old retainer at last
decided to get up on the top of the stove,[25] while the host lay down
on the floor. They all soon began to snore, and I myself soon fell dead
asleep.
When I awoke, somewhat late, on the morrow I saw that the storm was
over. The sun shone brightly; the snow stretched afar like a dazzling
sheet. The horses were already harnessed. I paid the host, who named
such a mere trifle as my reckoning that Saveliitch did not bargain as he
usually did. His suspicions of the evening before were quite gone. I
called the guide to thank him for what he had done for us, and I told
Saveliitch to give him half a rouble as a reward.
Saveliitch frowned.
"Half a rouble! " cried he. "Why? Because you were good enough to bring
him yourself to the inn? I will obey you, excellency, but we have no
half roubles to spare. If we take to giving gratuities to everybody we
shall end by dying of hunger. "
I could not dispute the point with Saveliitch; my money, according to my
solemn promise, was entirely at his disposal. Nevertheless, I was
annoyed that I was not able to reward a man who, if he had not brought
me out of fatal danger, had, at least, extricated me from an awkward
dilemma.
"Well," I said, coolly, to Saveliitch, "if you do not wish to give him
half a rouble give him one of my old coats; he is too thinly clad. Give
him my hareskin _touloup_. "
"Have mercy on me, my father, Petr' Andrejitch! " exclaimed Saveliitch.
"What need has he of your _touloup_? He will pawn it for drink, the
dog, in the first tavern he comes across. "
"That, my dear old fellow, is no longer your affair," said the vagabond,
"whether I drink it or whether I do not. His excellency honours me with
a coat off his own back. [26] It is his excellency's will, and it is your
duty as a serf not to kick against it, but to obey. "
"You don't fear heaven, robber that you are," said Saveliitch, angrily.
"You see the child is still young and foolish, and you are quite ready
to plunder him, thanks to his kind heart. What do you want with a
gentleman's _touloup_? You could not even put it across your cursed
broad shoulders. "
"I beg you will not play the wit," I said to my follower. "Get the cloak
quickly. "
"Oh! good heavens! " exclaimed Saveliitch, bemoaning himself. "A
_touloup_ of hareskin, and still quite new! And to whom is it
given? --to a drunkard in rags. "
However, the _touloup_ was brought. The vagabond began trying it on
directly. The _touloup_, which had already become somewhat too small for
me, was really too tight for him. Still, with some trouble, he succeeded
in getting it on, though he cracked all the seams. Saveliitch gave, as
it were, a subdued howl when he heard the threads snapping.
As to the vagabond, he was very pleased with my present. He ushered me
to my _kibitka_, and saying, with a low bow, "Thanks, your excellency;
may Heaven reward you for your goodness; I shall never forget, as long
as I live, your kindnesses," went his way, and I went mine, without
paying any attention to Saveliitch's sulkiness.
I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hareskin _touloup_.
Upon arrival at Orenburg I immediately waited on the General. I found a
tall man, already bent by age. His long hair was quite white; his old
uniform reminded one of a soldier of Tzarina Anne's[27] time, and he
spoke with a strongly-marked German accent. I gave him my father's
letter. Upon reading his name he cast a quick glance at me.
"Ah," said he, "it was but a short time Andrej Petrovitch was your age,
and now he has got a fine fellow of a son. Well, well--time, time. "
He opened the letter, and began reading it half aloud, with a running
fire of remarks--
"'Sir, I hope your excellency'--What's all this ceremony? For shame! I
wonder he's not ashamed of himself! Of course, discipline before
everything; but is it thus one writes to an old comrade? 'Your
excellency will not have forgotten'--Humph! 'And when under the late
Field Marshal Munich during the campaign, as well as little
Caroline'--Eh! eh! _bruder_! So he still remembers our old pranks? 'Now
for business. I send you my rogue'--Hum! 'Hold him with gloves of
porcupine-skin'--What does that mean--'gloves of porcupine-skin? ' It
must be a Russian proverb.
"What does it mean, 'hold with gloves of porcupine-skin? '" resumed he,
turning to me.
"It means," I answered him, with the most innocent face in the world,
"to treat someone kindly, not too strictly, to leave him plenty of
liberty; that is what holding with gloves of porcupine-skin means. "
"Humph! I understand. "
"'And not give him any liberty'--No; it seems that porcupine-skin gloves
means something quite different. ' Enclosed is his commission'--Where is
it then? Ah! here it is! --'in the roll of the Semenofsky Regiment'--All
right; everything necessary shall be done. 'Allow me to salute you
without ceremony, and like an old friend and comrade'--Ah! he has at
last remembered it all," etc. , etc.
"Well, my little father," said he, after he had finished the letter and
put my commission aside, "all shall be done; you shall be an officer in
the ----th Regiment, and you shall go to-morrow to Fort Belogorsk, where
you will serve under the orders of Commandant Mironoff, a brave and
worthy man. There you will really serve and learn discipline. There is
nothing for you to do at Orenburg; amusement is bad for a young man.
To-day I invite you to dine with me. "
"Worse and worse," thought I to myself. "What good has it done me to
have been a sergeant in the Guard from my cradle? Where has it brought
me? To the ----th Regiment, and to a fort stranded on the frontier of
the Kirghiz-Kaisak Steppes! "
I dined at Andrej Karlovitch's, in the company of his old aide de camp.
Strict German economy was the rule at his table, and I think that the
dread of a frequent guest at his bachelor's table contributed not a
little to my being so promptly sent away to a distant garrison.
The next day I took leave of the General, and started for my
destination.
CHAPTER III.
THE LITTLE FORT.
The little fort of Belogorsk lay about forty versts[28] from Orenburg.
From this town the road followed along by the rugged banks of the R.
Yaik. The river was not yet frozen, and its lead-coloured waves looked
almost black contrasted with its banks white with snow. Before me
stretched the Kirghiz Steppes. I was lost in thought, and my reverie was
tinged with melancholy. Garrison life did not offer me much attraction.
I tried to imagine what my future chief, Commandant Mironoff, would be
like. I saw in my mind's eye a strict, morose old man, with no ideas
beyond the service, and prepared to put me under arrest for the smallest
trifle.
Twilight was coming on; we were driving rather quickly.
"Is it far from here to the fort? " I asked the driver.
"Why, you can see it from here," replied he.
I began looking all round, expecting to see high bastions, a wall, and a
ditch.
I saw nothing but a little village, surrounded by a wooden
palisade. On one side three or four haystacks, half covered with snow;
on another a tumble-down windmill, whose sails, made of coarse limetree
bark, hung idly down.
"But where is the fort? " I asked, in surprise.
"There it is yonder, to be sure," rejoined the driver, pointing out to
me the village which we had just reached.
I noticed near the gateway an old iron cannon. The streets were narrow
and crooked, nearly all the _izbas_[29] were thatched. I ordered him to
take me to the Commandant, and almost directly my _kibitka_ stopped
before a wooden house, built on a knoll near the church, which was also
in wood.
No one came to meet me. From the steps I entered the ante-room. An old
pensioner, seated on a table, was busy sewing a blue patch on the elbow
of a green uniform. I begged him to announce me.
"Come in, my little father," he said to me; "we are all at home. "
I went into a room, very clean, but furnished in a very homely manner.
In one corner there stood a dresser with crockery on it. Against the
wall hung, framed and glazed, an officer's commission. Around this were
arranged some bark pictures,[30] representing the "Taking of Kustrin"
and of "Otchakof,"[31] "The Choice of the Betrothed," and the "Burial of
the Cat by the Mice. " Near the window sat an old woman wrapped in a
shawl, her head tied up in a handkerchief. She was busy winding thread,
which a little, old, one-eyed man in an officer's uniform was holding on
his outstretched hands.
"What do you want, my little father? " she said to me, continuing her
employment.
I answered that I had been ordered to join the service here, and that,
therefore, I had hastened to report myself to the Commandant. With these
words I turned towards the little, old, one-eyed man, whom I had taken
for the Commandant. But the good lady interrupted the speech with which
I had prepared myself.
"Ivan Kouzmitch[32] is not at home," said she. "He is gone to see Father
Garassim. But it's all the same, I am his wife. Be so good as to love us
and take us into favour. [33] Sit down, my little father. "
She called a servant, and bid her tell the "_ouriadnik_"[34] to come.
The little, old man was looking curiously at me with his one eye.
"Might I presume to ask you," said he to me, "in what regiment you have
deigned to serve? "
I satisfied his curiosity.
"And might I ask you," continued he, "why you have condescended to
exchange from the Guard into our garrison? "
I replied that it was by order of the authorities.
"Probably for conduct unbecoming an officer of the Guard? " rejoined my
indefatigable questioner.
"Will you be good enough to stop talking nonsense? " the wife of the
Commandant now said to him. "You can see very well that this young man
is tired with his journey. He has something else to do than to answer
your questions. Hold your hands better. And you, my little father," she
continued, turning to me, "do not bemoan yourself too much because you
have been shoved into our little hole of a place; you are not the first,
and you will not be the last. One may suffer, but one gets accustomed to
it. For instance, Chvabrine, Alexey Ivanytch,[35] was transferred to us
four years ago on account of a murder. Heaven knows what ill-luck befel
him. It happened one day he went out of the town with a lieutenant, and
they had taken swords, and they set to pinking one another, and Alexey
Ivanytch killed the lieutenant, and before a couple of witnesses. Well,
well, there's no heading ill-luck! "
At this moment the "_ouriadnik_," a young and handsome Cossack, came in.
"Maximitch," the Commandant's wife said to him, "find a quarter for this
officer, and a clean one. "
"I obey, Vassilissa Igorofna,"[36] replied the "_ouriadnik_. " "Ought not
his excellency to go to Iwan Polejaieff? "
"You are doting, Maximitch," retorted the Commandant's wife; "Polejaieff
has already little enough room; and, besides, he is my gossip; and then
he does not forget that we are his superiors. Take the gentleman--What
is your name, my little father? "
"Petr' Andrejitch. "
"Take Petr' Andrejitch to Semeon Kouzoff's. The rascal let his horse get
into my kitchen garden. Is everything in order, Maximitch? "
"Thank heaven! all is quiet," replied the Cossack. "Only Corporal
Prokoroff has been fighting in the bathhouse with the woman Oustinia
Pegoulina for a pail of hot water. "
"Iwan Ignatiitch,"[37] said the Commandant's wife to the little one-eyed
man, "you must decide between Prokoroff and Oustinia which is to blame,
and punish both of them; and you, Maximitch, go, in heaven's name! Petr'
Andrejitch, Maximitch will take you to your lodging. "
I took leave. The "_ouriadnik"_ led me to an _izba_, which stood on the
steep bank of the river, quite at the far end of the little fort. Half
the _izba_ was occupied by the family of Semeon Kouzoff, the other half
was given over to me. This half consisted of a tolerably clean room,
divided into two by a partition.
Saveliitch began to unpack, and I looked out of the narrow window. I saw
stretching out before me a bare and dull steppe; on one side there stood
some huts. Some fowls were wandering down the street. An old woman,
standing on a doorstep, holding in her hand a trough, was calling to
some pigs, the pigs replying by amicable grunts.
And it was in such a country as this I was condemned to pass my youth!
Overcome by bitter grief, I left the window, and went to bed supperless,
in spite of Saveliitch's remonstrances, who continued to repeat, in a
miserable tone--
"Oh, good heavens! he does not deign to eat anything. What would my
mistress say if the child should fall ill? "
On the morrow, I had scarcely begun to dress before the door of my room
opened, and a young officer came in. He was undersized, but, in spite of
irregular features, his bronzed face had a remarkably gay and lively
expression.
"I beg your pardon," said he to me in French,[38] "for coming thus
unceremoniously to make your acquaintance. I heard of your arrival
yesterday, and the wish to see at last a human being took such
possession of me that I could not resist any longer. You will understand
that when you have been here some time! "
I easily guessed that this was the officer sent away from the Guard in
consequence of the duel.
We made acquaintance. Chvabrine was very witty. His conversation was
lively and interesting. He described to me, with, much raciness and
gaiety, the Commandant's family, the society of the fort, and, in short,
all the country where my fate had led me.
I was laughing heartily when the same pensioner whom I had seen patching
his uniform in the Commandant's ante-room, came in with an invitation to
dinner for me from Vassilissa Igorofna.
Chvabrine said he should accompany me.
As we drew near the Commandant's house we saw in the square about twenty
little old pensioners, with long pigtails and three-cornered hats. They
were drawn up in line. Before them stood the Commandant, a tall, old
man, still hale, in a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap.
As soon as he perceived us he came up, said a few pleasant words to me,
and went back to the drill. We were going to stop and see the
manoeuvres, but he begged us to go at once to Vassilissa Igorofna's,
promising to follow us directly. "Here," said he, "there's really
nothing to see. "
Vassilissa Igorofna received us with simplicity and kindness, and
treated me as if she had known me a long time. The pensioner and
Palashka were laying the cloth.
"What possesses my Ivan Kouzmitch to-day to drill his troops so long? "
remarked the Commandant's wife. "Palashka, go and fetch him for dinner.
And what can have become of Masha? "[39]
Hardly had she said the name than a young girl of sixteen came into the
room. She had a fresh, round face, and her hair was smoothly put back
behind her ears, which were red with shyness and modesty. She did not
please me very much at first sight; I looked at her with prejudice.
Chvabrine had described Marya, the Commandant's daughter, to me as being
rather silly. She went and sat down in a corner, and began to sew. Still
the "_chtchi_"[40] had been brought in. Vassilissa Igorofna, not seeing
her husband come back, sent Palashka for the second time to call him.
"Tell the master that the visitors are waiting, and the soup is getting
cold. Thank heaven, the drill will not run away. He will have plenty of
time to shout as much as he likes. "
The Commandant soon appeared, accompanied by the little old one-eyed
man.
"What does all this mean, my little father? " said his wife to him.
"Dinner has been ready a long time, and we cannot make you come. "
"But don't you see, Vassilissa Igorofna," replied Ivan Kouzmitch, "I
was very busy drilling my little soldiers. "
"Nonsense," replied she, "that's only a boast; they are past service,
and you don't know much about it. You should have stayed at home, and
said your prayers; that would have been much better for you. My dear
guests, pray sit down to table. "
We took our places. Vassilissa Igorofna never ceased talking for a
moment, and overwhelmed me with questions. Who were my parents, were
they alive, where did they live, and what was their income? When she
learnt that my father had three hundred serfs--
"Well! " she exclaimed, "there are rich people in this world! And as to
us, my little father, we have as to souls[41] only the servant girl,
Palashka. Well, thank heaven, we get along little by little. We have
only one care on our minds--Masha, a girl who must be married. And what
dowry has she got? A comb and two-pence to pay for a bath twice a year.
If only she could light on some honest man! If not she must remain an
old maid! "
I glanced at Marya Ivanofna. [42] She had become quite red, and tears
were rolling down, even into her plate. I was sorry for her, and I
hastened to change the conversation.
"I have heard," I exclaimed (very much to the point), "that the Bashkirs
intend to attack your fort. "
"Who told you that, my little father? " replied Ivan Kouzmitch.
"I heard it said at Orenburg," replied I.
"That's all rubbish," said the Commandant. "We have not heard a word of
it for ever so long. The Bashkir people have been thoroughly awed, and
the Kirghiz, too, have had some good lessons. They won't dare to attack
us, and if they venture to do so I'll give them such a fright that they
won't stir for ten years at least. "
"And you are not afraid," I continued, addressing the Commandant's wife,
"to stay in a fort liable to such dangers? "
"It's all a question of custom, my little father," answered she. "It's
twenty years ago now since we were transferred from the regiment here.
You would never believe how frightened I used to be of those confounded
Pagans. If ever I chanced to see their hairy caps, or hear their howls,
believe me, my little father, I nearly died of it. And now I am so
accustomed to it that I should not budge an inch if I was told that the
rascals were prowling all around the fort. "
"Vassilissa Igorofna is a very brave lady," remarked Chvabrine, gravely.
"Ivan Kouzmitch knows something of that. "
"Oh! yes, indeed," said Ivan Kouzmitch, "she's no coward. "
"And Marya Ivanofna," I asked her mother, "is she as bold as you? "
"Masha! " replied the lady; "no, Masha is a coward. Till now she has
never been able to hear a gun fired without trembling all over. It is
two years ago now since Ivan Kouzmitch took it into his head to fire his
cannon on my birthday; she was so frightened, the poor little dove, she
nearly ran away into the other world. Since that day we have never fired
that confounded cannon any more. "
We got up from table; the Commandant and his wife went to take their
siesta, and I went to Chvabrine's quarters, where we passed the evening
together.
CHAPTER IV.
THE DUEL.
Several weeks passed, during which my life in Fort Belogorsk became not
merely endurable, but even pleasant. I was received like one of the
family in the household of the Commandant. The husband and wife were
excellent people. Ivan Kouzmitch, who had been a child of the regiment,
had become an officer, and was a simple, uneducated man, but good and
true. His wife led him completely, which, by the way, very well suited
his natural laziness.
It was Vassilissa Igorofna who directed all military business as she
did that of her household, and commanded in the little fort as she did
in her house. Marya Ivanofna soon ceased being shy, and we became better
acquainted. I found her a warm-hearted and sensible girl. By degrees I
became attached to this honest family, even to Iwan Ignatiitch, the
one-eyed lieutenant, whom Chvabrine accused of secret intrigue with
Vassilissa Igorofna, an accusation which had not even a shadow of
probability. But that did not matter to Chvabrine.
I became an officer. My work did not weigh heavily upon me. In this
heaven-blest fort there was no drill to do, no guard to mount, nor
review to pass. Sometimes the Commandant instructed his soldiers for his
own pleasure. But he had not yet succeeded in teaching them to know
their right hand from their left. Chvabrine had some French books; I
took to reading, and I acquired a taste for literature. In the morning I
used to read, and I tried my hand at translations, sometimes even at
compositions in verse. Nearly every day I dined at the Commandant's,
where I usually passed the rest of the day. In the evening, Father
Garasim used to drop in, accompanied by his wife, Akoulina, who was the
sturdiest gossip of the neighbourhood. It is scarcely necessary to say
that every day we met, Chvabrine and I. Still hour by hour his
conversation pleased me less. His everlasting jokes about the
Commandant's family, and, above all, his witty remarks upon Marya
Ivanofna, displeased me very much. I had no other society but that of
this family within the little fort, but I did not want any other.
In spite of all the prophecies, the Bashkirs did not revolt. Peace
reigned around our little fort. But this peace was suddenly troubled by
war within.
I have already said I dabbled a little in literature. My attempts were
tolerable for the time, and Soumarokoff[43] himself did justice to them
many years later. One day I happened to write a little song which
pleased me. It is well-known that under colour of asking advice, authors
willingly seek a benevolent listener; I copied out my little song, and
took it to Chvabrine, the only person in the fort who could appreciate a
poetical work.
After a short preface, I drew my manuscript from my pocket, and read to
him the following verses:[44]
"By waging war with thoughts of love
I try to forget my beauty;
Alas! by flight from Masha,
I hope my freedom to regain!
"But the eyes which enslaved me are ever before me.
My soul have they troubled and ruined my rest.
"Oh! Masha, who knowest my sorrows,
Seeing me in this miserable plight,
Take pity on thy captive. "
"What do you think of that? " I said to Chvabrine, expecting praise as a
tribute due to me. But to my great displeasure Chvabrine, who usually
showed kindness, told me flatly my song was worth nothing.
"Why? " I asked, trying to hide my vexation.
"Because such verses," replied he, "are only worthy of my master
Trediakofski,[45] and, indeed, remind me very much of his little erotic
couplets.
Saveliitch groaned deeply as every moment he fell upon me. I lowered the
_tsinofka_,[16] I rolled myself up in my cloak and I went to sleep,
rocked by the whistle of the storm and the lurching of the sledge. I had
then a dream that I have never forgotten, and in which I still see
something prophetic, as I recall the strange events of my life. The
reader will forgive me if I relate it to him, as he knows, no doubt, by
experience how natural it is for man to retain a vestige of superstition
in spite of all the scorn for it he may think proper to assume.
I had reached the stage when the real and unreal begin to blend into the
first vague visions of drowsiness. It seemed to me that the snowstorm
continued, and that we were wandering in the snowy desert. All at once I
thought I saw a great gate, and we entered the courtyard of our house.
My first thought was a fear that my father would be angry at my
involuntary return to the paternal roof, and would attribute it to a
premeditated disobedience. Uneasy, I got out of my _kibitka_, and I saw
my mother come to meet me, looking very sad.
"Don't make a noise," she said to me. "Your father is on his death-bed,
and wishes to bid you farewell. "
Struck with horror, I followed her into the bedroom. I look round; the
room is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking sad
and cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the curtain, and
said--
"Andrej Petrovitch, Petrousha has come back; he came back having heard
of your illness. Give him your blessing. "
I knelt down. But to my astonishment instead of my father I saw in the
bed a black-bearded peasant, who regarded me with a merry look. Full of
surprise, I turned towards my mother.
"What does this mean? " I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing? "
"It is the same thing, Petrousha," replied my mother. "That person is
your _godfather_. [17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you. "
I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the bed,
quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood. The terrible peasant called me gently, saying to me--
"Fear nothing, come near; come and let me bless you. "
Fear had stupified me. . . .
At this moment I awoke. The horses had stopped; Saveliitch had hold of
my hand.
"Get out, excellency," said he to me; "here we are. "
"Where? " I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"At our night's lodging. Heaven has helped us; we came by chance right
upon the hedge by the house. Get out, excellency, as quick as you can,
and let us see you get warm. "
I got out of the _kibitka_. The snowstorm still raged, but less
violently. It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been
blind. The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath
the skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily
clean, lit by a _loutchina_. [18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a
high Cossack cap.
Our host, a Cossack of the Yaik,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still
fresh and hale. Saveliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a
fire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I
never had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.
"What has become of our guide? Where is he? " I asked Saveliitch.
"Here, your excellency," replied a voice from above.
I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard
and two sparkling eyes.
"Well, are you cold? "
"How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? I
had a _touloup_, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in
pawn at the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen. "
At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling _samovar_. [20] I
offered our guide a cup of tea. He at once jumped down.
I was struck by his appearance. He was a man about forty, middle height,
thin, but broad-shouldered. His black beard was beginning to turn grey;
his large quick eyes roved incessantly around. In his face there was an
expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His hair was cut
short. He wore a little torn _armak_,[21] and wide Tartar trousers.
I offered him a cup of tea; he tasted it, and made a wry face.
"Do me the favour, your excellency," said he to me, "to give me a glass
of brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea. "
I willingly acceded to his desire. The host took from one of the shelves
of the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked him
well in the face--
"Well, well," said he, "so here you are again in our part of the world.
Where, in heaven's name, do you come from now? "
My guide winked in a meaning manner, and replied by the well-known
saying--
"The sparrow was flying about in the orchard; he was eating hempseed;
the grandmother threw a stone at him, and missed him. And you, how are
you all getting on? "
"How are we all getting on? " rejoined the host, still speaking in
proverbs.
"Vespers were beginning to ring, but the wife of the _pope_[22] forbid
it; the pope went away on a visit, and the devils are abroad in the
churchyard. "
"Shut up, uncle," retorted the vagabond. "When it rains there will be
mushrooms, and when you find mushrooms you will find a basket to put
them in. But now" (he winked a second time) "put your axe behind your
back,[23] the gamekeeper is abroad. To the health of your excellency. "
So saying he took the glass, made the sign of the cross, and swallowed
his brandy at one gulp, then, bowing to me, returned to his lair above
the stove.
I could not then understand a single word of the thieves' slang they
employed. It was only later on that I understood that they were talking
about the army of the Yaik, which had only just been reduced to
submission after the revolt of 1772. [24]
Saveliitch listened to them talking with a very discontented manner, and
cast suspicious glances, sometimes on the host and sometimes on the
guide.
The kind of inn where we had sought shelter stood in the very middle of
the steppe, far from the road and from any dwelling, and certainly was
by no means unlikely to be a robber resort. But what could we do? We
could not dream of resuming our journey. Saveliitch's uneasiness amused
me very much. I stretched myself on a bench. My old retainer at last
decided to get up on the top of the stove,[25] while the host lay down
on the floor. They all soon began to snore, and I myself soon fell dead
asleep.
When I awoke, somewhat late, on the morrow I saw that the storm was
over. The sun shone brightly; the snow stretched afar like a dazzling
sheet. The horses were already harnessed. I paid the host, who named
such a mere trifle as my reckoning that Saveliitch did not bargain as he
usually did. His suspicions of the evening before were quite gone. I
called the guide to thank him for what he had done for us, and I told
Saveliitch to give him half a rouble as a reward.
Saveliitch frowned.
"Half a rouble! " cried he. "Why? Because you were good enough to bring
him yourself to the inn? I will obey you, excellency, but we have no
half roubles to spare. If we take to giving gratuities to everybody we
shall end by dying of hunger. "
I could not dispute the point with Saveliitch; my money, according to my
solemn promise, was entirely at his disposal. Nevertheless, I was
annoyed that I was not able to reward a man who, if he had not brought
me out of fatal danger, had, at least, extricated me from an awkward
dilemma.
"Well," I said, coolly, to Saveliitch, "if you do not wish to give him
half a rouble give him one of my old coats; he is too thinly clad. Give
him my hareskin _touloup_. "
"Have mercy on me, my father, Petr' Andrejitch! " exclaimed Saveliitch.
"What need has he of your _touloup_? He will pawn it for drink, the
dog, in the first tavern he comes across. "
"That, my dear old fellow, is no longer your affair," said the vagabond,
"whether I drink it or whether I do not. His excellency honours me with
a coat off his own back. [26] It is his excellency's will, and it is your
duty as a serf not to kick against it, but to obey. "
"You don't fear heaven, robber that you are," said Saveliitch, angrily.
"You see the child is still young and foolish, and you are quite ready
to plunder him, thanks to his kind heart. What do you want with a
gentleman's _touloup_? You could not even put it across your cursed
broad shoulders. "
"I beg you will not play the wit," I said to my follower. "Get the cloak
quickly. "
"Oh! good heavens! " exclaimed Saveliitch, bemoaning himself. "A
_touloup_ of hareskin, and still quite new! And to whom is it
given? --to a drunkard in rags. "
However, the _touloup_ was brought. The vagabond began trying it on
directly. The _touloup_, which had already become somewhat too small for
me, was really too tight for him. Still, with some trouble, he succeeded
in getting it on, though he cracked all the seams. Saveliitch gave, as
it were, a subdued howl when he heard the threads snapping.
As to the vagabond, he was very pleased with my present. He ushered me
to my _kibitka_, and saying, with a low bow, "Thanks, your excellency;
may Heaven reward you for your goodness; I shall never forget, as long
as I live, your kindnesses," went his way, and I went mine, without
paying any attention to Saveliitch's sulkiness.
I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hareskin _touloup_.
Upon arrival at Orenburg I immediately waited on the General. I found a
tall man, already bent by age. His long hair was quite white; his old
uniform reminded one of a soldier of Tzarina Anne's[27] time, and he
spoke with a strongly-marked German accent. I gave him my father's
letter. Upon reading his name he cast a quick glance at me.
"Ah," said he, "it was but a short time Andrej Petrovitch was your age,
and now he has got a fine fellow of a son. Well, well--time, time. "
He opened the letter, and began reading it half aloud, with a running
fire of remarks--
"'Sir, I hope your excellency'--What's all this ceremony? For shame! I
wonder he's not ashamed of himself! Of course, discipline before
everything; but is it thus one writes to an old comrade? 'Your
excellency will not have forgotten'--Humph! 'And when under the late
Field Marshal Munich during the campaign, as well as little
Caroline'--Eh! eh! _bruder_! So he still remembers our old pranks? 'Now
for business. I send you my rogue'--Hum! 'Hold him with gloves of
porcupine-skin'--What does that mean--'gloves of porcupine-skin? ' It
must be a Russian proverb.
"What does it mean, 'hold with gloves of porcupine-skin? '" resumed he,
turning to me.
"It means," I answered him, with the most innocent face in the world,
"to treat someone kindly, not too strictly, to leave him plenty of
liberty; that is what holding with gloves of porcupine-skin means. "
"Humph! I understand. "
"'And not give him any liberty'--No; it seems that porcupine-skin gloves
means something quite different. ' Enclosed is his commission'--Where is
it then? Ah! here it is! --'in the roll of the Semenofsky Regiment'--All
right; everything necessary shall be done. 'Allow me to salute you
without ceremony, and like an old friend and comrade'--Ah! he has at
last remembered it all," etc. , etc.
"Well, my little father," said he, after he had finished the letter and
put my commission aside, "all shall be done; you shall be an officer in
the ----th Regiment, and you shall go to-morrow to Fort Belogorsk, where
you will serve under the orders of Commandant Mironoff, a brave and
worthy man. There you will really serve and learn discipline. There is
nothing for you to do at Orenburg; amusement is bad for a young man.
To-day I invite you to dine with me. "
"Worse and worse," thought I to myself. "What good has it done me to
have been a sergeant in the Guard from my cradle? Where has it brought
me? To the ----th Regiment, and to a fort stranded on the frontier of
the Kirghiz-Kaisak Steppes! "
I dined at Andrej Karlovitch's, in the company of his old aide de camp.
Strict German economy was the rule at his table, and I think that the
dread of a frequent guest at his bachelor's table contributed not a
little to my being so promptly sent away to a distant garrison.
The next day I took leave of the General, and started for my
destination.
CHAPTER III.
THE LITTLE FORT.
The little fort of Belogorsk lay about forty versts[28] from Orenburg.
From this town the road followed along by the rugged banks of the R.
Yaik. The river was not yet frozen, and its lead-coloured waves looked
almost black contrasted with its banks white with snow. Before me
stretched the Kirghiz Steppes. I was lost in thought, and my reverie was
tinged with melancholy. Garrison life did not offer me much attraction.
I tried to imagine what my future chief, Commandant Mironoff, would be
like. I saw in my mind's eye a strict, morose old man, with no ideas
beyond the service, and prepared to put me under arrest for the smallest
trifle.
Twilight was coming on; we were driving rather quickly.
"Is it far from here to the fort? " I asked the driver.
"Why, you can see it from here," replied he.
I began looking all round, expecting to see high bastions, a wall, and a
ditch.
I saw nothing but a little village, surrounded by a wooden
palisade. On one side three or four haystacks, half covered with snow;
on another a tumble-down windmill, whose sails, made of coarse limetree
bark, hung idly down.
"But where is the fort? " I asked, in surprise.
"There it is yonder, to be sure," rejoined the driver, pointing out to
me the village which we had just reached.
I noticed near the gateway an old iron cannon. The streets were narrow
and crooked, nearly all the _izbas_[29] were thatched. I ordered him to
take me to the Commandant, and almost directly my _kibitka_ stopped
before a wooden house, built on a knoll near the church, which was also
in wood.
No one came to meet me. From the steps I entered the ante-room. An old
pensioner, seated on a table, was busy sewing a blue patch on the elbow
of a green uniform. I begged him to announce me.
"Come in, my little father," he said to me; "we are all at home. "
I went into a room, very clean, but furnished in a very homely manner.
In one corner there stood a dresser with crockery on it. Against the
wall hung, framed and glazed, an officer's commission. Around this were
arranged some bark pictures,[30] representing the "Taking of Kustrin"
and of "Otchakof,"[31] "The Choice of the Betrothed," and the "Burial of
the Cat by the Mice. " Near the window sat an old woman wrapped in a
shawl, her head tied up in a handkerchief. She was busy winding thread,
which a little, old, one-eyed man in an officer's uniform was holding on
his outstretched hands.
"What do you want, my little father? " she said to me, continuing her
employment.
I answered that I had been ordered to join the service here, and that,
therefore, I had hastened to report myself to the Commandant. With these
words I turned towards the little, old, one-eyed man, whom I had taken
for the Commandant. But the good lady interrupted the speech with which
I had prepared myself.
"Ivan Kouzmitch[32] is not at home," said she. "He is gone to see Father
Garassim. But it's all the same, I am his wife. Be so good as to love us
and take us into favour. [33] Sit down, my little father. "
She called a servant, and bid her tell the "_ouriadnik_"[34] to come.
The little, old man was looking curiously at me with his one eye.
"Might I presume to ask you," said he to me, "in what regiment you have
deigned to serve? "
I satisfied his curiosity.
"And might I ask you," continued he, "why you have condescended to
exchange from the Guard into our garrison? "
I replied that it was by order of the authorities.
"Probably for conduct unbecoming an officer of the Guard? " rejoined my
indefatigable questioner.
"Will you be good enough to stop talking nonsense? " the wife of the
Commandant now said to him. "You can see very well that this young man
is tired with his journey. He has something else to do than to answer
your questions. Hold your hands better. And you, my little father," she
continued, turning to me, "do not bemoan yourself too much because you
have been shoved into our little hole of a place; you are not the first,
and you will not be the last. One may suffer, but one gets accustomed to
it. For instance, Chvabrine, Alexey Ivanytch,[35] was transferred to us
four years ago on account of a murder. Heaven knows what ill-luck befel
him. It happened one day he went out of the town with a lieutenant, and
they had taken swords, and they set to pinking one another, and Alexey
Ivanytch killed the lieutenant, and before a couple of witnesses. Well,
well, there's no heading ill-luck! "
At this moment the "_ouriadnik_," a young and handsome Cossack, came in.
"Maximitch," the Commandant's wife said to him, "find a quarter for this
officer, and a clean one. "
"I obey, Vassilissa Igorofna,"[36] replied the "_ouriadnik_. " "Ought not
his excellency to go to Iwan Polejaieff? "
"You are doting, Maximitch," retorted the Commandant's wife; "Polejaieff
has already little enough room; and, besides, he is my gossip; and then
he does not forget that we are his superiors. Take the gentleman--What
is your name, my little father? "
"Petr' Andrejitch. "
"Take Petr' Andrejitch to Semeon Kouzoff's. The rascal let his horse get
into my kitchen garden. Is everything in order, Maximitch? "
"Thank heaven! all is quiet," replied the Cossack. "Only Corporal
Prokoroff has been fighting in the bathhouse with the woman Oustinia
Pegoulina for a pail of hot water. "
"Iwan Ignatiitch,"[37] said the Commandant's wife to the little one-eyed
man, "you must decide between Prokoroff and Oustinia which is to blame,
and punish both of them; and you, Maximitch, go, in heaven's name! Petr'
Andrejitch, Maximitch will take you to your lodging. "
I took leave. The "_ouriadnik"_ led me to an _izba_, which stood on the
steep bank of the river, quite at the far end of the little fort. Half
the _izba_ was occupied by the family of Semeon Kouzoff, the other half
was given over to me. This half consisted of a tolerably clean room,
divided into two by a partition.
Saveliitch began to unpack, and I looked out of the narrow window. I saw
stretching out before me a bare and dull steppe; on one side there stood
some huts. Some fowls were wandering down the street. An old woman,
standing on a doorstep, holding in her hand a trough, was calling to
some pigs, the pigs replying by amicable grunts.
And it was in such a country as this I was condemned to pass my youth!
Overcome by bitter grief, I left the window, and went to bed supperless,
in spite of Saveliitch's remonstrances, who continued to repeat, in a
miserable tone--
"Oh, good heavens! he does not deign to eat anything. What would my
mistress say if the child should fall ill? "
On the morrow, I had scarcely begun to dress before the door of my room
opened, and a young officer came in. He was undersized, but, in spite of
irregular features, his bronzed face had a remarkably gay and lively
expression.
"I beg your pardon," said he to me in French,[38] "for coming thus
unceremoniously to make your acquaintance. I heard of your arrival
yesterday, and the wish to see at last a human being took such
possession of me that I could not resist any longer. You will understand
that when you have been here some time! "
I easily guessed that this was the officer sent away from the Guard in
consequence of the duel.
We made acquaintance. Chvabrine was very witty. His conversation was
lively and interesting. He described to me, with, much raciness and
gaiety, the Commandant's family, the society of the fort, and, in short,
all the country where my fate had led me.
I was laughing heartily when the same pensioner whom I had seen patching
his uniform in the Commandant's ante-room, came in with an invitation to
dinner for me from Vassilissa Igorofna.
Chvabrine said he should accompany me.
As we drew near the Commandant's house we saw in the square about twenty
little old pensioners, with long pigtails and three-cornered hats. They
were drawn up in line. Before them stood the Commandant, a tall, old
man, still hale, in a dressing-gown and a cotton nightcap.
As soon as he perceived us he came up, said a few pleasant words to me,
and went back to the drill. We were going to stop and see the
manoeuvres, but he begged us to go at once to Vassilissa Igorofna's,
promising to follow us directly. "Here," said he, "there's really
nothing to see. "
Vassilissa Igorofna received us with simplicity and kindness, and
treated me as if she had known me a long time. The pensioner and
Palashka were laying the cloth.
"What possesses my Ivan Kouzmitch to-day to drill his troops so long? "
remarked the Commandant's wife. "Palashka, go and fetch him for dinner.
And what can have become of Masha? "[39]
Hardly had she said the name than a young girl of sixteen came into the
room. She had a fresh, round face, and her hair was smoothly put back
behind her ears, which were red with shyness and modesty. She did not
please me very much at first sight; I looked at her with prejudice.
Chvabrine had described Marya, the Commandant's daughter, to me as being
rather silly. She went and sat down in a corner, and began to sew. Still
the "_chtchi_"[40] had been brought in. Vassilissa Igorofna, not seeing
her husband come back, sent Palashka for the second time to call him.
"Tell the master that the visitors are waiting, and the soup is getting
cold. Thank heaven, the drill will not run away. He will have plenty of
time to shout as much as he likes. "
The Commandant soon appeared, accompanied by the little old one-eyed
man.
"What does all this mean, my little father? " said his wife to him.
"Dinner has been ready a long time, and we cannot make you come. "
"But don't you see, Vassilissa Igorofna," replied Ivan Kouzmitch, "I
was very busy drilling my little soldiers. "
"Nonsense," replied she, "that's only a boast; they are past service,
and you don't know much about it. You should have stayed at home, and
said your prayers; that would have been much better for you. My dear
guests, pray sit down to table. "
We took our places. Vassilissa Igorofna never ceased talking for a
moment, and overwhelmed me with questions. Who were my parents, were
they alive, where did they live, and what was their income? When she
learnt that my father had three hundred serfs--
"Well! " she exclaimed, "there are rich people in this world! And as to
us, my little father, we have as to souls[41] only the servant girl,
Palashka. Well, thank heaven, we get along little by little. We have
only one care on our minds--Masha, a girl who must be married. And what
dowry has she got? A comb and two-pence to pay for a bath twice a year.
If only she could light on some honest man! If not she must remain an
old maid! "
I glanced at Marya Ivanofna. [42] She had become quite red, and tears
were rolling down, even into her plate. I was sorry for her, and I
hastened to change the conversation.
"I have heard," I exclaimed (very much to the point), "that the Bashkirs
intend to attack your fort. "
"Who told you that, my little father? " replied Ivan Kouzmitch.
"I heard it said at Orenburg," replied I.
"That's all rubbish," said the Commandant. "We have not heard a word of
it for ever so long. The Bashkir people have been thoroughly awed, and
the Kirghiz, too, have had some good lessons. They won't dare to attack
us, and if they venture to do so I'll give them such a fright that they
won't stir for ten years at least. "
"And you are not afraid," I continued, addressing the Commandant's wife,
"to stay in a fort liable to such dangers? "
"It's all a question of custom, my little father," answered she. "It's
twenty years ago now since we were transferred from the regiment here.
You would never believe how frightened I used to be of those confounded
Pagans. If ever I chanced to see their hairy caps, or hear their howls,
believe me, my little father, I nearly died of it. And now I am so
accustomed to it that I should not budge an inch if I was told that the
rascals were prowling all around the fort. "
"Vassilissa Igorofna is a very brave lady," remarked Chvabrine, gravely.
"Ivan Kouzmitch knows something of that. "
"Oh! yes, indeed," said Ivan Kouzmitch, "she's no coward. "
"And Marya Ivanofna," I asked her mother, "is she as bold as you? "
"Masha! " replied the lady; "no, Masha is a coward. Till now she has
never been able to hear a gun fired without trembling all over. It is
two years ago now since Ivan Kouzmitch took it into his head to fire his
cannon on my birthday; she was so frightened, the poor little dove, she
nearly ran away into the other world. Since that day we have never fired
that confounded cannon any more. "
We got up from table; the Commandant and his wife went to take their
siesta, and I went to Chvabrine's quarters, where we passed the evening
together.
CHAPTER IV.
THE DUEL.
Several weeks passed, during which my life in Fort Belogorsk became not
merely endurable, but even pleasant. I was received like one of the
family in the household of the Commandant. The husband and wife were
excellent people. Ivan Kouzmitch, who had been a child of the regiment,
had become an officer, and was a simple, uneducated man, but good and
true. His wife led him completely, which, by the way, very well suited
his natural laziness.
It was Vassilissa Igorofna who directed all military business as she
did that of her household, and commanded in the little fort as she did
in her house. Marya Ivanofna soon ceased being shy, and we became better
acquainted. I found her a warm-hearted and sensible girl. By degrees I
became attached to this honest family, even to Iwan Ignatiitch, the
one-eyed lieutenant, whom Chvabrine accused of secret intrigue with
Vassilissa Igorofna, an accusation which had not even a shadow of
probability. But that did not matter to Chvabrine.
I became an officer. My work did not weigh heavily upon me. In this
heaven-blest fort there was no drill to do, no guard to mount, nor
review to pass. Sometimes the Commandant instructed his soldiers for his
own pleasure. But he had not yet succeeded in teaching them to know
their right hand from their left. Chvabrine had some French books; I
took to reading, and I acquired a taste for literature. In the morning I
used to read, and I tried my hand at translations, sometimes even at
compositions in verse. Nearly every day I dined at the Commandant's,
where I usually passed the rest of the day. In the evening, Father
Garasim used to drop in, accompanied by his wife, Akoulina, who was the
sturdiest gossip of the neighbourhood. It is scarcely necessary to say
that every day we met, Chvabrine and I. Still hour by hour his
conversation pleased me less. His everlasting jokes about the
Commandant's family, and, above all, his witty remarks upon Marya
Ivanofna, displeased me very much. I had no other society but that of
this family within the little fort, but I did not want any other.
In spite of all the prophecies, the Bashkirs did not revolt. Peace
reigned around our little fort. But this peace was suddenly troubled by
war within.
I have already said I dabbled a little in literature. My attempts were
tolerable for the time, and Soumarokoff[43] himself did justice to them
many years later. One day I happened to write a little song which
pleased me. It is well-known that under colour of asking advice, authors
willingly seek a benevolent listener; I copied out my little song, and
took it to Chvabrine, the only person in the fort who could appreciate a
poetical work.
After a short preface, I drew my manuscript from my pocket, and read to
him the following verses:[44]
"By waging war with thoughts of love
I try to forget my beauty;
Alas! by flight from Masha,
I hope my freedom to regain!
"But the eyes which enslaved me are ever before me.
My soul have they troubled and ruined my rest.
"Oh! Masha, who knowest my sorrows,
Seeing me in this miserable plight,
Take pity on thy captive. "
"What do you think of that? " I said to Chvabrine, expecting praise as a
tribute due to me. But to my great displeasure Chvabrine, who usually
showed kindness, told me flatly my song was worth nothing.
"Why? " I asked, trying to hide my vexation.
"Because such verses," replied he, "are only worthy of my master
Trediakofski,[45] and, indeed, remind me very much of his little erotic
couplets.
