No More Learning

" I glanced at Saveliitch; the old man was making
the sign of the cross, and muttering prayers. We waited a long time. At
last the peasant reappeared, and said to me--

"Come, our father has given orders that the officer be brought in. "

I entered the "_izba_," or the palace, as the peasant called it. It was
lighted by two tallow candles, and the walls were hung with gold paper.
All the rest of the furniture, the benches, the table, the little
washstand jug hung to a cord, the towel on a nail, the oven fork
standing up in a corner, the wooden shelf laden with earthen pots, all
was just as in any other "_izba_. Pugatchef sat beneath the holy
pictures in a red caftan and high cap, his hand on his thigh. Around
him stood several of his principal chiefs, with a forced expression of
submission and respect. It was easy to see that the news of the arrival
of an officer from Orenburg had aroused a great curiosity among the
rebels, and that they were prepared to receive me in pomp. Pugatchef
recognized me at the first glance. His feigned gravity disappeared at
once.

"Ah! it is your lordship," said he, with liveliness. "How are you? What
in heaven's name brings you here? "

I replied that I had started on a journey on my own business, and that
his people had stopped me.

"And on what business? " asked he.

I knew not what to say. Pugatchef, thinking I did not want to explain
myself before witnesses, made a sign to his comrades to go away. All
obeyed except two, who did not offer to stir.

"Speak boldly before these," said Pugatchef; "hide nothing from them. "

I threw a side glance upon these two confederates of the usurper. One of
them, a little old man, meagre and bent, with a scanty grey beard, had
nothing remarkable about him, except a broad blue ribbon worn cross-ways
over his caftan of thick grey cloth. But I shall never forget his
companion. He was tall, powerfully built, and appeared to be about
forty-five. A thick red beard, piercing grey eyes, a nose without
nostrils, and marks of the hot iron on his forehead and on his cheeks,
gave to his broad face, seamed with small-pox, a strange and indefinable
expression. He wore a red shirt, a Kirghiz dress, and wide Cossack
trousers. The first, as I afterwards learnt, was the deserter, Corporal
Beloborodoff. The other, Athanasius Sokoloff, nicknamed Khlopusha,[63]
was a criminal condemned to the mines of Siberia, whence he had escaped
three times. In spite of the feelings which then agitated me, this
company wherein I was thus unexpectedly thrown greatly impressed me. But
Pugatchef soon recalled me to myself by his question.

"Speak! On what business did you leave Orenburg? "

A strange idea occurred to me. It seemed to me that Providence, in
bringing me a second time before Pugatchef, opened to me a way of
executing my project. I resolved to seize the opportunity, and, without
considering any longer what course I should pursue, I replied to
Pugatchef--

"I was going to Fort Belogorsk, to deliver there an orphan who is being
oppressed. "

Pugatchef's eyes flashed.

"Who among my people would dare to harm an orphan? " cried he. "Were he
ever so brazen-faced, he should never escape my vengeance! Speak, who
is the guilty one? "

"Chvabrine," replied I; "he keeps in durance the same young girl whom
you saw with the priest's wife, and he wants to force her to become his
wife. "

"I'll give him a lesson, Master Chvabrine! " cried Pugatchef, with a
fierce air. "He shall learn what it is to do as he pleases under me, and
to oppress my people. I'll hang him. "

"Bid me speak a word," broke in Khlopusha, in a hoarse voice. "You were
too hasty in giving Chvabrine command of the fort, and now you are too
hasty in hanging him. You have already offended the Cossacks by giving
them a gentleman as leader--do not, therefore, now affront the gentlemen
by executing them on the first accusation. "

"They need neither be overwhelmed with favours nor be pitied," the
little old man with the blue ribbon now said, in his turn. "There would
be no harm in hanging Chvabrine, neither would there be any harm in
cross-examining this officer. Why has he deigned to pay us a visit? If
he do not recognize you as Tzar, he needs not to ask justice of you; if,
on the other hand, he do recognize you, wherefore, then, has he stayed
in Orenburg until now, in the midst of your enemies. Will you order that
he be tried by fire? [64] It would appear that his lordship is sent to us
by the Generals in Orenburg. "

The logic of the old rascal appeared plausible even to me. An
involuntary shudder thrilled through me as I remembered in whose hands I
was.

Pugatchef saw my disquiet.

"Eh, eh! your lordship," said he, winking, "it appears to me my
field-marshal is right. What do you think of it? "

The banter of Pugatchef in some measure restored me to myself.

I quietly replied that I was in his power, and that he could do with me
as he listed.

"Very well," said Pugatchef; "now tell me in what state is your town? "

"Thank God," replied I, "all is in good order. "

"In good order! " repeated Pugatchef, "and the people are dying of hunger
there. "

The usurper spoke truth; but, according to the duty imposed on me by my
oath, I assured him it was a false report, and that Orenburg was amply
victualled.

"You see," cried the little old man, "that he is deceiving you. All the
deserters are unanimous in declaring famine and plague are in Orenburg,
that they are eating carrion there as a dish of honour. And his lordship
assures us there is abundance of all. If you wish to hang Chvabrine,
hang on the same gallows this lad, so that they need have naught
wherewith to reproach each other. "

The words of the confounded old man seemed to have shaken Pugatchef.

Happily, Khlopusha began to contradict his companion.

"Hold your tongue, Naumitch," said he; "you only think of hanging and
strangling. It certainly suits you well to play the hero. Already you
have one foot in the grave, and you want to kill others. Have you not
enough blood on your conscience? "

"But are you a saint yourself? " retorted Beloborodoff. "Wherefore, then,
this pity? "

"Without doubt," replied Khlopusha, "I am also a sinner, and this hand"
(he closed his bony fist, and turning back his sleeve displayed his
hairy arm), "and this hand is guilty of having shed Christian blood. But
_I_ killed my enemy, and not my host, on the free highway and in the
dark wood, but not in the house, and behind the stove with axe and club,
neither with old women's gossip. "

The old man averted his head, and muttered between his teeth--

"Branded! "

"What are you muttering there, old owl? " rejoined Khlopusha. "I'll brand
you! Wait a bit, your turn will come. By heaven, I hope some day you may
smell the hot pincers, and till then have a care that I do not tear out
your ugly beard. "

"Gentlemen," said Pugatchef, with dignity, "stop quarrelling. It would
not be a great misfortune if all the mangy curs of Orenburg dangled
their legs beneath the same cross-bar, but it would be a pity if our
good dogs took to biting each other. "

Khlopusha and Beloborodoff said nothing, and exchanged black looks.

I felt it was necessary to change the subject of the interview, which
might end in a very disagreeable manner for me. Turning toward
Pugatchef, I said to him, smiling--

"Ah! I had forgotten to thank you for your horse and '_touloup_. ' Had it
not been for you, I should never have reached the town, for I should
have died of cold on the journey. "

My stratagem succeeded. Pugatchef became good-humoured.

"The beauty of a debt is the payment! " said he, with his usual wink.
"Now, tell me the whole story. What have you to do with this young girl
whom Chvabrine is persecuting? Has she not hooked your young
affections, eh? "

"She is my betrothed," I replied, as I observed the favourable change
taking place in Pugatchef, and seeing no risk in telling him the truth.

"Your betrothed! " cried Pugatchef. "Why didn't you tell me before? We
will marry you, and have a fine junket at your wedding. " Then, turning
to Beloborodoff, "Listen, field-marshal," said he, "we are old friends,
his lordship and me; let us sit down to supper. To-morrow we will see
what is to be done with him; one's brains are clearer in the morning
than by night. "

I should willingly have refused the proposed honour, but I could not get
out of it. Two young Cossack girls, children of the master of the
"_izba_," laid the table with a white cloth, brought bread, fish, soup,
and big jugs of wine and beer.

Thus for the second time I found myself at the table of Pugatchef and
his terrible companions. The orgy of which I became the involuntary
witness went on till far into the night.

At last drunkenness overcame the guests; Pugatchef fell asleep in his
place, and his companions rose, making me a sign to leave him.

I went out with them. By the order of Khlopusha the sentry took me to
the lockup, where I found Saveliitch, and I was left alone with him
under lock and key.

My retainer was so astounded by the turn affairs had taken that he did
not address a single question to me. He lay down in the dark, and for a
long while I heard him moan and lament. At last, however, he began to
snore, and as for me, I gave myself up to thoughts which did not allow
me to close my eyes for a moment all night.

On the morrow morning Pugatchef sent someone to call me.

I went to his house. Before his door stood a "_kibitka_" with three
Tartar horses. The crowd filled the street. Pugatchef, whom I met in the
ante-room, was dressed in a travelling suit, a pelisse and Kirghiz cap.
His guests of yesterday evening surrounded him, and wore a submissive
air, which contrasted strongly with what I had witnessed the previous
evening.

Pugatchef gaily bid me "good morning," and ordered me to seat myself
beside him in the "_kibitka_. " We took our places.

"To Fort Belogorsk! " said Pugatchef to the robust Tartar driver, who
standing guided the team. My heart beat violently.

The horses dashed forward, the little bell tinkled, the "_kibitka_,"
bounded across the snow.

"Stop! stop! " cried a voice which I knew but too well; and I saw
Saveliitch running towards us. Pugatchef bid the man stop.

"Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch," cried my follower, "don't forsake me
in my old age among the rob--"

"Aha! old owl! " said Pugatchef, "so God again brings us together. Here,
seat yourself in front. "

"Thanks, Tzar, thanks my own father," replied Saveliitch, taking his
seat. "May God give you a hundred years of life for having reassured a
poor old man. I shall pray God all my life for you, and I'll never talk
about the hareskin '_touloup_. '"

This hareskin "_touloup_" might end at last by making Pugatchef
seriously angry. But the usurper either did not hear or pretended not to
hear this ill-judged remark. The horses again galloped.

The people stopped in the street, and each one saluted us, bowing low.
Pugatchef bent his head right and left.

In a moment we were out of the village and were taking our course over
a well-marked road. What I felt may be easily imagined. In a few hours I
should see again her whom I had thought lost to me for ever. I imagined
to myself the moment of our reunion, but I also thought of the man in
whose hands lay my destiny, and whom a strange concourse of events bound
to me by a mysterious link.

I recalled the rough cruelty and bloody habits of him who was disposed
to prove the defender of my love. Pugatchef did not know she was the
daughter of Captain Mironoff; Chvabrine, driven to bay, was capable of
telling him all, and Pugatchef might learn the truth in other ways.
Then, what would become of Marya? At this thought a shudder ran through
my body, and my hair seemed to stand on end.

All at once Pugatchef broke upon my reflections.

"What does your lordship," said he, "deign to think about? "

"How can you expect me to be thinking? " replied I. "I am an officer and
a gentleman; but yesterday I was waging war with you, and now I am
travelling with you in the same carriage, and the whole happiness of my
life depends on you. "

"What," said Pugatchef, "are you afraid? "

I made reply that having already received my life at his hands, I
trusted not merely in his good nature but in his help.

"And you are right--'fore God, you are right," resumed the usurper; "you
saw that my merry men looked askance at you. Even to-day the little old
man wanted to prove indubitably to me that you were a spy, and should be
put to the torture and hung. But I would not agree," added he, lowering
his voice, lest Saveliitch and the Tartar should hear him, "because I
bore in mind your glass of wine and your '_touloup_. ' You see clearly
that I am not bloodthirsty, as your comrades would make out. "

Remembering the taking of Fort Belogorsk, I did not think wise to
contradict him, and I said nothing.

"What do they say of me in Orenburg? " asked Pugatchef, after a short
silence.

"Well, it is said that you are not easy to get the better of. You will
agree we have had our hands full with you. "

The face of the usurper expressed the satisfaction of self-love.

"Yes," said he, with a glorious air, "I am a great warrior. Do they know
in Orenburg of the battle of Jouzeiff? [65] Forty Generals were killed,
four armies made prisoners. Do you think the King of Prussia is about my
strength? "

This boasting of the robber rather amused me.

"What do you think yourself? " I said to him. "Could you beat Frederick? "

"Fedor Fedorovitch,[66] eh! why not? I can beat your Generals, and your
Generals have beaten him. Until now my arms have been victorious. Wait a
bit--only wait a bit--you'll see something when I shall march on
Moscow? "

"And you are thinking of marching on Moscow? "

The usurper appeared to reflect. Then he said, half-aloud--

"God knows my way is straight. I have little freedom of action. My
fellows don't obey me--they are marauders. I have to keep a sharp look
out--at the first reverse they would save their necks with my head. "

"Well," I said to Pugatchef, "would it not be better to forsake them
yourself, ere it be too late, and throw yourself on the mercy of the
Tzarina? "

Pugatchef smiled bitterly.

"No," said he, "the day of repentance is past and gone; they will not
give me grace. I must go on as I have begun. Who knows? It may be.
Grischka Otrepieff certainly became Tzar at Moscow. "

"But do you know his end? He was cast out of a window, he was massacred,
burnt, and his ashes blown abroad at the cannon's mouth, to the four
winds of heaven. "

The Tartar began to hum a plaintive song; Saveliitch, fast asleep,
oscillated from one side to the other. Our "_kibitka_" was passing
quickly over the wintry road. All at once I saw a little village I knew
well, with a palisade and a belfry, on the rugged bank of the Yaik. A
quarter of an hour afterwards we were entering Fort Belogorsk.




CHAPTER XII.

THE ORPHAN.


The "_kibitka"_ stopped before the door of the Commandant's house. The
inhabitants had recognized the little bell of Pugatchef's team, and had
assembled in a crowd. Chvabrine came to meet the usurper; he was dressed
as a Cossack, and had allowed his beard to grow.

The traitor helped Pugatchef to get out of the carriage, expressing by
obsequious words his zeal and joy.

Seeing me he became uneasy, but soon recovered himself.

"You are one of us," said he; "it should have been long ago. "

I turned away my head without answering him. My heart failed me when we
entered the little room I knew so well, where could still be seen on the
wall the commission of the late deceased Commandant, as a sad memorial.

Pugatchef sat down on the same sofa where ofttimes Ivan Kouzmitch had
dozed to the sound of his wife's scolding.

Chvabrine himself brought brandy to his chief. Pugatchef drank a glass
of it, and said to him, pointing to me--

"Offer one to his lordship. "

Chvabrine approached me with his tray. I turned away my head for the
second time. He seemed beside himself. With his usual sharpness he had
doubtless guessed that Pugatchef was not pleased with me. He regarded
him with alarm and me with mistrust. Pugatchef asked him some questions
on the condition of the fort, on what was said concerning the Tzarina's
troops, and other similar subjects. Then suddenly and in an unexpected
manner--

"Tell me, brother," asked he, "who is this young girl you are keeping
under watch and ward? Show me her. "

Chvabrine became pale as death.

"Tzar," he said, in a trembling voice, "Tzar, she is not under
restraint; she is in bed in her room. "

"Take me to her," said the usurper, rising.

It was impossible to hesitate. Chvabrine led Pugatchef to Marya
Ivanofna's room. I followed them. Chvabrine stopped on the stairs.

"Tzar," said he, "you can constrain me to do as you list, but do not
permit a stranger to enter my wife's room. "

"You are married! " cried I, ready to tear him in pieces.

"Hush! " interrupted Pugatchef, "it is my concern. And you," continued
he, turning towards Chvabrine, "do not swagger; whether she be your wife
or no, I take whomsoever I please to see her. Your lordship, follow me. "

At the door of the room Chvabrine again stopped, and said, in a broken
voice--

"Tzar, I warn you she is feverish, and for three days she has been
delirious. "

"Open! " said Pugatchef.

Chvabrine began to fumble in his pockets, and ended by declaring he had
forgotten the key.

Pugatchef gave a push to the door with his foot, the lock gave way, the
door opened, and we went in. I cast a rapid glance round the room and
nearly fainted. Upon the floor, in a coarse peasant's dress, sat Marya,
pale and thin, with her hair unbound. Before her stood a jug of water
and a bit of bread. At the sight of me she trembled and gave a piercing
cry. I cannot say what I felt. Pugatchef looked sidelong at Chvabrine,
and said to him with a bitter smile--

"Your hospital is well-ordered! " Then, approaching Marya, "Tell me, my
little dove, why your husband punishes you thus? "

"My husband! " rejoined she; "he is not my husband. Never will I be his
wife. I am resolved rather to die, and I shall die if I be not
delivered. "

Pugatchef cast a furious glance upon Chvabrine.

"You dared deceive me," cried he. "Do you know, villain, what you
deserve? "

Chvabrine dropped on his knees. Then contempt overpowered in me all
feelings of hatred and revenge. I looked with disgust upon a gentleman
at the feet of a Cossack deserter. Pugatchef allowed himself to be
moved.

"I pardon you this time," he said, to Chvabrine; "but next offence I
will remember this one. " Then, addressing Marya, he said to her, gently,
"Come out, pretty one; I give you your liberty. I am the Tzar. "

Marya Ivanofna threw a quick look at him, and divined that the murderer
of her parents was before her eyes. She covered her face with her hands,
and fell unconscious.

I was rushing to help her, when my old acquaintance, Polashka, came very
boldly into the room, and took charge of her mistress.

Pugatchef withdrew, and we all three returned to the parlour.

"Well, your lordship," Pugatchef said to me, laughing, "we have
delivered the pretty girl; what do you say to it? Ought we not to send
for the pope and get him to marry his niece? If you like I will be your
_marriage godfather_, Chvabrine best man; then we will set to and drink
with closed doors. "

What I feared came to pass.

No sooner had he heard Pugatchef's proposal than Chvabrine lost his
head.

"Tzar," said he, furiously, "I am guilty, I have lied to you; but
Grineff also deceives you. This young girl is not the pope's niece; she
is the daughter of Ivan Mironoff, who was executed when the fort was
taken. "

Pugatchef turned his flashing eyes on me.

"What does all this mean? " cried he, with indignant surprise.

But I made answer boldly--

"Chvabrine has told you the truth. "

"You had not told me that," rejoined Pugatchef, whose brow had suddenly
darkened.

"But judge yourself," replied I; "could I declare before all your
people that she was Mironoff's daughter? They would have torn her in
pieces, nothing could have saved her. "

"Well, you are right," said Pugatchef. "My drunkards would not have
spared the poor girl; my gossip, the pope's wife, did right to deceive
them. "

"Listen," I resumed, seeing how well disposed he was towards me, "I do
not know what to call you, nor do I seek to know. But God knows I stand
ready to give my life for what you have done for me. Only do not ask of
me anything opposed to my honour and my conscience as a Christian. You
are my benefactor; end as you have begun. Let me go with the poor orphan
whither God shall direct, and whatever befall and wherever you be we
will pray God every day that He watch over the safety of your soul. "

I seemed to have touched Pugatchef's fierce heart.

"Be it even as you wish," said he. "Either entirely punish or entirely
pardon; that is my motto. Take your pretty one, take her away wherever
you like, and may God grant you love and wisdom. "

He turned towards Chvabrine, and bid him write me a safe conduct pass
for all the gates and forts under his command. Chvabrine remained still,
and as if petrified.

Pugatchef went to inspect the fort; Chvabrine followed him, and I stayed
behind under the pretext of packing up. I ran to Marya's room. The door
was shut; I knocked.

"Who is there? " asked Polashka.

I gave my name. Marya's gentle voice was then heard through the door.

"Wait, Petr' Andrejitch," said she, "I am changing my dress. Go to
Akoulina Pamphilovna's; I shall be there in a minute. "

I obeyed and went to Father Garasim's house.

The pope and his wife hastened to meet me. Saveliitch had already told
them all that had happened.

"Good-day, Petr' Andrejitch," the pope's wife said to me; "here has God
so ruled that we meet again. How are you? We have talked about you every
day. And Marya Ivanofna, what has she not suffered anent you, my pigeon?
But tell me, my father, how did you get out of the difficulty with
Pugatchef? How was it that he did not kill you? Well, for _that_, thanks
be to the villain. "

"There, hush, old woman," interrupted Father Garasim; "don't gossip
about all you know; too much talk, no salvation. Come in, Petr'
Andrejitch, and welcome. It is long since we have seen each other. "

The pope's wife did me honour with everything she had at hand, without
ceasing a moment to talk.

She told me how Chvabrine had obliged them to deliver up Marya Ivanofna
to him; how the poor girl cried, and would not be parted from them; how
she had had continual intercourse with them through the medium of
Polashka, a resolute, sharp girl who made the _"ouriadnik"_ himself
dance (as they say) to the sound of her flageolet; how she had
counselled Marya Ivanofna to write me a letter, etc. As for me, in a few
words I told my story.

The pope and his wife crossed themselves when they heard that Pugatchef
was aware they had deceived him.

"May the power of the cross be with us! " Akoulina Pamphilovna said. "May
God turn aside this cloud. Very well, Alexey Ivanytch, we shall see! Oh!
the sly fox! "

At this moment the door opened, and Marya Ivanofna appeared, with a
smile on her pale face. She had changed her peasant dress, and was
dressed as usual, simply and suitably. I seized her hand, and could not
for a while say a single word. We were both silent, our hearts were too
full.

Our hosts felt we had other things to do than to talk to them; they left
us. We remained alone. Marya told me all that had befallen her since the
taking of the fort; painted me the horrors of her position, all the
torment the infamous Chvabrine had made her suffer. We recalled to each
other the happy past, both of us shedding tears the while.

At last I could tell her my plans. It was impossible for her to stay in
a fort which had submitted to Pugatchef, and where Chvabrine was in
command. Neither could I dream of taking refuge with her in Orenburg,
where at this juncture all the miseries of a siege were being undergone.
Marya had no longer a single relation in the world. Therefore I proposed
to her that she should go to my parents' country house.

She was very much surprised at such a proposal. The displeasure my
father had shown on her account frightened her. But I soothed her. I
knew my father would deem it a duty and an honour to shelter in his
house the daughter of a veteran who had died for his country.

"Dear Marya," I said, at last, "I look upon you as my wife. These
strange events have irrevocably united us. Nothing in the whole world
can part us any more. "

Marya heard me in dignified silence, without misplaced affectation. She
felt as I did, that her destiny was irrevocably linked with mine; still,
she repeated that she would only be my wife with my parents' consent. I
had nothing to answer. We fell in each other's arms, and my project
became our mutual decision.

An hour afterwards the "_ouriadnik_" brought me my safe-conduct pass,
with the scrawl which did duty as Pugatchef's signature, and told me the
Tzar awaited me in his house.

I found him ready to start.

How express what I felt in the presence of this man, awful and cruel for
all, myself only excepted? And why not tell the whole truth? At this
moment I felt a strong sympathy with him. I wished earnestly to draw him
from the band of robbers of which he was the chief, and save his head
ere it should be too late.

The presence of Chvabrine and of the crowd around us prevented me from
expressing to him all the feelings which filled my heart.

We parted friends.

Pugatchef saw in the crowd Akoulina Pamphilovna, and amicably threatened
her with his finger, with a meaning wink. Then he seated himself in his
_"kibitka"_ and gave the word to return to Berd. When the horses
started, he leaned out of his carriage and shouted to me--

"Farewell, your lordship; it may be we shall yet meet again! "

We did, indeed, see one another once again; but under what
circumstances!

Pugatchef was gone.

I long watched the steppe over which his _"kibitka"_ was rapidly
gliding.

The crowd dwindled away; Chvabrine disappeared. I went back to the
pope's house, where all was being made ready for our departure. Our
little luggage had been put in the old vehicle of the Commandant. In a
moment the horses were harnessed.

Marya went to bid a last farewell to the tomb of her parents, buried
behind the church.

I wished to escort her there, but she begged me to let her go alone, and
soon came back, weeping quiet tears.

Father Garasim and his wife came to the door to see us off. We took our
seats, three abreast, inside the "_kibitka_," and Saveliitch again
perched in front.

"Good-bye, Marya Ivanofna, our dear dove; good-bye, Petr' Andrejitch,
our gay goshawk! " the pope's wife cried to us. "A lucky journey to you,
and may God give you abundant happiness! "

We started. At the Commandant's window I saw Chvabrine standing, with a
face of dark hatred.

I did not wish to triumph meanly over a humbled enemy, and looked away
from him.

At last we passed the principal gate, and for ever left Fort Belogorsk.




CHAPTER XIII.

THE ARREST.


Reunited in so marvellous a manner to the young girl who, that very
morning even, had caused me so much unhappy disquiet, I could not
believe in my happiness, and I deemed all that had befallen me a dream.

Marya looked sometimes thoughtfully upon me and sometimes upon the road,
and did not seem either to have recovered her senses. We kept
silence--our hearts were too weary with emotion.

At the end of two hours we had already reached the neighbouring fort,
which also belonged to Pugatchef. We changed horses there.

By the alertness with which we were served and the eager zeal of the
bearded Cossack whom Pugatchef had appointed Commandant, I saw that,
thanks to the talk of the postillion who had driven us, I was taken for
a favourite of the master.

When we again set forth it was getting dark. We were approaching a
little town where, according to the bearded Commandant, there ought to
be a strong detachment on the march to join the usurper.

The sentries stopped us, and to the shout, "Who goes there? " our
postillion replied aloud--

"The Tzar's gossip, travelling with his good woman. "

Immediately a party of Russian hussars surrounded us with awful oaths.

"Get out, devil's gossip! " a Quartermaster with thick moustachios said
to me.

"We'll give you a bath, you and your good woman! "

I got out of the "_kibitka_," and asked to be taken before the
authorities.