No More Learning

"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.

Seeing I was an officer, the men ceased swearing, and the Quartermaster
took me to the Major's.

Saveliitch followed me, grumbling--

"That's fun--gossip of the Tzar! --out of the frying-pan into the fire!
Oh, Lord! how will it all end? "

The "_kibitka_" followed at a walk. In five minutes we reached a little
house, brilliantly lit up. The Quartermaster left me under the guard,
and went in to announce his capture.

He returned almost directly, and told me "his high mightiness,"[67] had
not time to see me, and that he had bid me be taken to prison, and that
my good woman be brought before him.

"What does it all mean? " I cried, furiously; "is he gone mad? "

"I cannot say, your lordship," replied the Quartermaster, "only his high
mightiness has given orders that your lordship be taken to prison, and
that her ladyship be taken before his high mightiness, your lordship. "

I ran up the steps. The sentries had not time to stop me, and I entered
straightway the room, where six hussar officers were playing
"_faro_. "[68]

The Major held the bank.

What was my surprise when, in a momentary glance at him, I recognized in
him that very Ivan Ivanovitch Zourine who had so well fleeced me in the
Simbirsk inn!

"Is it possible? " cried I. "Ivan Ivanovitch, is it you? "

"Ah, bah! Petr' Andrejitch! By what chance, and where do you drop from?
Good day, brother, won't you punt a card? "

"Thanks--rather give me a lodging. "

"What, lodging do you want? Stay with me. "

"I cannot. I am not alone. "

"Well, bring your comrade too. "

"I am not with a comrade. I am--with a lady. "

"With a lady--where did you pick her up, brother? "

After saying which words Zourine began to whistle so slyly that all the
others began to laugh, and I remained confused.

"Well," continued Zourine, "then there is nothing to be done. I'll give
you a lodging. But it is a pity; we would have had a spree like last
time. Hullo! there, boy, why is not Pugatchef's gossip brought up? Is
she refractory? Tell her she has nothing to fear, that the gentleman
who wants her is very good, that he will not offend her in any way, and
at the same time shove her along by the shoulder. "

"What are you talking about? " I said to Zourine; "of what gossip of
Pugatchef's are you speaking? It is the daughter of Captain Mironoff. I
have delivered her from captivity, and I am taking her now to my
father's house, where I shall leave her. "

"What? So it's you whom they came to announce a while ago? In heaven's
name, what does all this mean? "

"I'll tell you all about it presently. But now I beg of you, do reassure
the poor girl, whom your hussars have frightened dreadfully. "

Zourine directly settled matters. He went out himself into the street to
make excuses to Marya for the involuntary misunderstanding, and ordered
the Quartermaster to take her to the best lodging in the town. I stayed
to sleep at Zourine's house. We supped together, and as soon as I found
myself alone with Zourine, I told him all my adventures.

He heard me with great attention, and when I had done, shaking his
head--

"All that's very well, brother," said he, "but one thing is not well.
Why the devil do you want to marry? As an honest officer, as a good
fellow, I would not deceive you. Believe me, I implore you, marriage is
but a folly. Is it wise of you to bother yourself with a wife and rock
babies? Give up the idea. Listen to me; part with the Commandant's
daughter. I have cleared and made safe the road to Simbirsk; send her
to-morrow to your parents alone, and you stay in my detachment. If you
fall again into the hands of the rebels it will not be easy for you to
get off another time. In this way, your love fit will cure itself, and
all will be for the best. "

Though I did not completely agree with him, I yet felt that duty and
honour alike required my presence in the Tzarina's army; so I resolved
to follow in part Zourine's advice, and send Marya to my parents, and
stay in his troop.

Saveliitch came to help me to undress. I told him he would have to be
ready to start on the morrow with Marya Ivanofna. He began by showing
obstinacy.

"What are you saying, sir? How can you expect me to leave you? Who will
serve you, and what will your parents say? "

Knowing the obstinacy of my retainer, I resolved to meet him with
sincerity and coaxing.

"My friend, Arkhip Saveliitch," I said to him, "do not refuse me. Be my
benefactor. Here I have no need of a servant, and I should not be easy
if Marya Ivanofna were to go without you. In serving her you serve me,
for I have made up my mind to marry her without fail directly
circumstances will permit. "

Saveliitch clasped his hands with a look of surprise and stupefaction
impossible to describe.

"Marry! " repeated he, "the child wants to marry. But what will your
father say? And your mother, what will she think? "

"They will doubtless consent," replied I, "when they know Marya
Ivanofna. I count on you. My father and mother have full confidence in
you. You will intercede for us, won't you? "

The old fellow was touched.

"Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch," said he, "although you do want to
marry too early, still Marya Ivanofna is such a good young lady it would
be a sin to let slip so good a chance. I will do as you wish. I will
take her, this angel of God, and I will tell your parents, with all due
deference, that such a betrothal needs no dowry. "

I thanked Saveliitch, and went away to share Zourine's room.

In my emotion I again began to talk. At first Zourine willingly
listened, then his words became fewer and more vague, and at last he
replied to one of my questions by a vigorous snore, and I then followed
his example.

On the morrow, when I told Marya my plans, she saw how reasonable they
were, and agreed to them.

As Zourine's detachment was to leave the town that same day, and it was
no longer possible to hesitate, I parted with Marya after entrusting her
to Saveliitch, and giving him a letter for my parents. Marya bid me
good-bye all forlorn; I could answer her nothing, not wishing to give
way to the feelings of my heart before the bystanders.

I returned to Zourine's silent and thoughtful; he wished to cheer me. I
hoped to raise my spirits; we passed the day noisily, and on the morrow
we marched.

It was near the end of the month of February. The winter, which had
rendered manoeuvres difficult, was drawing to a close, and our Generals
were making ready for a combined campaign.

Pugatchef had reassembled his troops, and was still to be found before
Orenburg. At the approach of our forces the disaffected villages
returned to their allegiance.

Soon Prince Galitsyn won a complete victory over Pugatchef, who had
ventured near Fort Talitcheff; the victor relieved Orenburg, and
appeared to have given the finishing stroke to the rebellion.

In the midst of all this Zourine had been detached against some mounted
Bashkirs, who dispersed before we even set eyes on them.

Spring, which caused the rivers to overflow, and thus block the roads,
surprised us in a little Tartar village, when we consoled ourselves for
our forced inaction by the thought that this insignificant war of
skirmishers with robbers would soon come to an end.

But Pugatchef had not been taken; he reappeared very soon in the mining
country of the Ural, on the Siberian frontier. He reassembled new bands,
and again began his robberies. We soon learnt the destruction of
Siberian forts, then the fall of Khasan, and the audacious march of the
usurper on Moscow.

Zourine received orders to cross the River Volga. I shall not stay to
relate the events of the war.

I shall only say that misery reached its height. The gentry hid in the
woods; the authorities had no longer any power anywhere; the leaders of
solitary detachments punished or pardoned without giving account of
their conduct. All this extensive and beautiful country-side was laid
waste with fire and sword.

May God grant we never see again so senseless and pitiless a revolt. At
last Pugatchef was beaten by Michelson, and was obliged to fly again.

Zourine received soon afterwards the news that the robber had been taken
and the order to halt.

The war was at an end.

It was at last possible for me to go home. The thought of embracing my
parents and seeing Marya again, of whom I had no news, filled me with
joy. I jumped like a child.

Zourine laughed, and said, shrugging his shoulders--

"Wait a bit, wait till you be married; you'll see all go to the devil
then. "

And I must confess a strange feeling embittered my joy.

The recollection of the man covered with the blood of so many innocent
victims, and the thought of the punishment awaiting him, never left me
any peace.

"Emela,"[69] I said to myself, in vexation, "why did you not cast
yourself on the bayonets, or present your heart to the grapeshot. That
had been best for you.
"

_(After advancing as far as the gates of Moscow, which he might perhaps
have taken had not his bold heart failed him at the last moment,
Pugatchef, beaten, had been delivered up by his comrades for the sum of
a hundred thousand roubles, shut up in an iron cage, and conveyed to
Moscow. He was executed by order of Catherine II. , in 1775. )_

Zourine gave me leave.

A few days later I should have been in the bosom of my family, when an
unforeseen thunderbolt struck me. The day of my departure, just as I was
about to start, Zourine entered my room with a paper in his hand,
looking anxious. I felt a pang at my heart; I was afraid, without
knowing wherefore. The Major bade my servant leave us, and told me he
wished to speak to me.

"What's the matter? " I asked, with disquietude.

"A little unpleasantness," replied he, offering me the paper. "Read what
I have just received. "

It was a secret dispatch, addressed to all Commanders of detachments,
ordering them to arrest me wherever I should be found, and to send me
under a strong escort to Khasan, to the Commission of Inquiry appointed
to try Pugatchef and his accomplices.

The paper dropped from my hands.

"Come," said Zourine, "it is my duty to execute the order. Probably the
report of your journeys in Pugatchef's intimate company has reached
headquarters. I hope sincerely the affair will not end badly, and that
you will be able to justify yourself to the Commission. Don't be cast
down, and start at once. "

I had a clear conscience, but the thought that our reunion was delayed
for some months yet made my heart fail me.

After receiving Zourine's affectionate farewell I got into my
"_telega_,"[70] two hussars, with drawn swords, seated themselves, one
on each side of me, and we took the road to Khasan.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE TRIAL.


I did not doubt that the cause of my arrest was my departure from
Orenburg without leave. Thus I could easily exculpate myself, for not
only had we not been forbidden to make sorties against the enemy, but
were encouraged in so doing.

Still my friendly understanding with Pugatchef seemed to be proved by a
crowd of witnesses, and must appear at least suspicious. All the way I
pondered the questions I should be asked, and mentally resolved upon my
answers. I determined to tell the judges the whole truth, convinced
that it was at once the simplest and surest way of justifying myself.

I reached Khasan, a miserable town, which I found laid waste, and
well-nigh reduced to ashes. All along the street, instead of houses,
were to be seen heaps of charred plaster and rubbish, and walls without
windows or roofs. These were the marks Pugatchef had left. I was taken
to the fort, which had remained whole, and the hussars, my escort,
handed me over to the officer of the guard.

He called a farrier, who coolly rivetted irons on my ankles.

Then I was led to the prison building, where I was left alone in a
narrow, dark cell, which had but its four walls and a little skylight,
with iron bars.

Such a beginning augured nothing good. Still I did not lose either hope
or courage. I had recourse to the consolation of all who suffer, and,
after tasting for the first time the sweetness of a prayer from an
innocent heart full of anguish, I peacefully fell asleep without giving
a thought to what might befall me.

On the morrow the gaoler came to wake me, telling me that I was summoned
before the Commission.

Two soldiers conducted me across a court to the Commandant's house,
then, remaining in the ante-room, left me to enter alone the inner
chamber. I entered a rather large reception room. Behind the table,
covered with papers, were seated two persons, an elderly General,
looking severe and cold, and a young officer of the Guard, looking, at
most, about thirty, of easy and attractive demeanour; near the window at
another table sat a secretary with a pen behind his ear, bending over
his paper ready to take down my evidence.

The cross-examination began. They asked me my name and rank. The
General inquired if I were not the son of Andrej Petrovitch Grineff, and
on my affirmative answer, he exclaimed, severely--

"It is a great pity such an honourable man should have a son so very
unworthy of him! "

I quietly made answer that, whatever might be the accusations lying
heavily against me, I hoped to be able to explain them away by a candid
avowal of the truth.

My coolness displeased him.

"You are a bold, barefaced rascal," he said to me, frowning. "However,
we have seen many of them. "

Then the young officer asked me by what chance and at what time I had
entered Pugatchef's service, and on what affairs he had employed me.

I indignantly rejoined that, being an officer and a gentleman, I had
not been able to enter Pugatchef's service, and that he had not employed
me on any business whatsoever.

"How, then, does it happen," resumed my judge, "that the officer and
gentleman be the only one pardoned by the usurper, while all his
comrades are massacred in cold blood? How does it happen, also, that the
same officer and gentleman could live snugly and pleasantly with the
rebels, and receive from the ringleader presents of a '_pelisse_,' a
horse, and a half rouble? What is the occasion of so strange a
friendship? And upon what can it be founded if not on treason, or at the
least be occasioned by criminal and unpardonable baseness? "

The words of the officer wounded me deeply, and I entered hotly on my
vindication.

I related how my acquaintance with Pugatchef had begun, on the steppe,
in the midst of a snowstorm; how he had recognized me and granted me my
life at the taking of Fort Belogorsk. I admitted that, indeed, I had
accepted from the usurper a "_touloup_" and a horse; but I had defended
Fort Belogorsk against the rascal to the last gasp. Finally I appealed
to the name of my General, who could testify to my zeal during the
disastrous siege of Orenburg.

The severe old man took from the table an open letter, which he began to
read aloud.

"In answer to your excellency on the score of Ensign Grineff, who is
said to have been mixed up in the troubles, and to have entered into
communication with the robber, communication contrary to the rules and
regulations of the service, and opposed to all the duties imposed by his
oath, I have the honour to inform you that the aforesaid Ensign Grineff
served at Orenburg from the month of Oct. , 1773, until Feb. 24th of the
present year, upon which day he left the town, and has not been seen
since. Still the enemy's deserters have been heard to declare that he
went to Pugatchef's camp, and that he accompanied him to Fort Belogorsk,
where he was formerly in garrison. On the other hand, in respect to his
conduct I can--"

Here the General broke off, and said to me with harshness--

"Well, what have you to say now for yourself? "

I was about to continue as I had begun, and relate my connection with
Marya as openly as the rest. But suddenly I felt an unconquerable
disgust to tell such a story. It occurred to me that if I mentioned her,
the Commission would oblige her to appear; and the idea of exposing her
name to all the scandalous things said by the rascals under
cross-examination, and the thought of even seeing her in their presence,
was so repugnant to me that I became confused, stammered, and took
refuge in silence.

My judges, who appeared to be listening to my answers with a certain
good will, were again prejudiced against me by the sight of my
confusion. The officer of the Guard requested that I should be
confronted with the principal accuser. The General bade them bring in
_yesterday's rascal. _ I turned eagerly towards the door to look out for
my accuser.

A few moments afterwards the clank of chains was heard, and there
entered--Chvabrine. I was struck by the change that had come over him.
He was pale and thin. His hair, formerly black as jet, had begun to turn
grey. His long beard was unkempt. He repeated all his accusations in a
feeble, but resolute tone. According to him, I had been sent by
Pugatchef as a spy to Orenburg; I went out each day as far as the line
of sharpshooters to transmit written news of all that was passing within
the town; finally, I had definitely come over to the usurper's side,
going with him from fort to fort, and trying, by all the means in my
power, to do evil to my companions in treason, to supplant them in their
posts, and profit more by the favours of the arch-rebel. I heard him to
the end in silence, and felt glad of one thing; he had never pronounced
Marya's name. Was it because his self-love was wounded by the thought of
her who had disdainfully rejected him, or was it that still within his
heart yet lingered a spark of the same feeling which kept me silent?
Whatever it was, the Commission did not hear spoken the name of the
daughter of the Commandant of Fort Belogorsk. I was still further
confirmed in the resolution I had taken, and when the judges asked me if
I had aught to answer to Chvabrine's allegations, I contented myself
with saying that I did abide by my first declaration, and that I had
nothing more to show for my vindication.

The General bid them take us away. We went out together. I looked calmly
at Chvabrine, and did not say one word to him. He smiled a smile of
satisfied hatred, gathered up his fetters, and quickened his pace to
pass before me. I was taken back to prison, and after that I underwent
no further examination.

I was not witness to all that I have still to tell my readers, but I
have heard the whole thing related so often that the least little
details have remained graven in my memory, and it seems to me I was
present myself.

Marya was received by my parents with the cordial kindness
characteristic of people in old days. In the opportunity presented to
them of giving a home to a poor orphan they saw a favour of God. Very
soon they became truly attached to her, for one could not know her
without loving her. My love no longer appeared a folly even to my
father, and my mother thought only of the union of her Petrusha with the
Commandant's daughter.

The news of my arrest electrified with horror my whole family. Still,
Marya had so simply told my parents the origin of my strange friendship
with Pugatchef that, not only were they not uneasy, but it even made
them laugh heartily. My father could not believe it possible that I
should be mixed up in a disgraceful revolt, of which the object was the
downfall of the throne and the extermination of the race of "_boyars_. "
He cross-examined Saveliitch sharply, and my retainer confessed that I
had been the guest of Pugatchef, and that the robber had certainly
behaved generously towards me. But at the same time he solemnly averred
upon oath that he had never heard me speak of any treason. My old
parents' minds were relieved, and they impatiently awaited better news.
But as to Marya, she was very uneasy, and only caution and modesty kept
her silent.

Several weeks passed thus. All at once my father received from
Petersburg a letter from our kinsman, Prince Banojik. After the usual
compliments he announced to him that the suspicions which had arisen of
my participation in the plots of the rebels had been proved to be but
too well founded, adding that condign punishment as a deterrent should
have overtaken me, but that the Tzarina, through consideration for the
loyal service and white hairs of my father, had condescended to pardon
the criminal son, and, remitting the disgrace-fraught execution, had
condemned him to exile for life in the heart of Siberia.

This unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He lost his habitual
firmness, and his sorrow, usually dumb, found vent in bitter lament.

"What! " he never ceased repeating, well-nigh beside himself, "What! my
son mixed up in the plots of Pugatchef! Just God! what have I lived to
see! The Tzarina grants him life, but does that make it easier for me to
bear? It is not the execution which is horrible. My ancestor perished on
the scaffold for conscience sake,[71] my father fell with the martyrs
Volynski and Khuchtchoff,[72] but that a '_boyar_' should forswear his
oath--that he should join with robbers, rascals, convicted felons,
revolted slaves! Shame for ever--shame on our race! "

Frightened by his despair, my mother dared not weep before him, and
endeavoured to give him courage by talking of the uncertainty and
injustice of the verdict. But my father was inconsolable.

Marya was more miserable than anyone. Fully persuaded that I could have
justified myself had I chosen, she suspected the motive which had kept
me silent, and deemed herself the sole cause of my misfortune. She hid
from all eyes her tears and her suffering, but never ceased thinking how
she could save me.

One evening, seated on the sofa, my father was turning over the Court
Calendar; but his thoughts were far away, and the book did not produce
its usual effect on him. He was whistling an old march. My mother was
silently knitting, and her tears were dropping from time to time on her
work. Marya, who was working in the same room, all at once informed my
parents that she was obliged to start for Petersburg, and begged them to
give her the means to do so.

My mother was much affected by this declaration.

"Why," said she, "do you want to go to Petersburg? You, too--do you also
wish to forsake us? "

Marya made answer that her fate depended on the journey, and that she
was going to seek help and countenance from people high in favour, as
the daughter of a man who had fallen victim to his fidelity.

My father bowed his head. Each word which reminded him of the alleged
crime of his son was to him a keen reproach.

"Go," he said at last, with a sigh; "we do not wish to cast any
obstacles between you and happiness. May God grant you an honest man as
a husband, and not a disgraced and convicted traitor. "

He rose and left the room.

Left alone with my mother, Marya confided to her part of her plans. My
mother kissed her with tears, and prayed God would grant her success.

A few days afterwards Marya set forth with Palashka and her faithful
Saveliitch, who, necessarily, parted from me, consoled himself by
remembering he was serving my betrothed.

Marya arrived safely at Sofia, and, learning that the court at this time
was at the summer palace of Tzarskoe-Selo, she resolved to stop there.
In the post-house she obtained a little dressing-room behind a
partition.

The wife of the postmaster came at once to gossip with her, and
announced to her pompously that she was the niece of a stove-warmer
attached to the Palace, and, in a word, put her up to all the mysteries
of the Palace. She told her at what hour the Tzarina rose, had her
coffee, went to walk; what high lords there were about her, what she had
deigned to say the evening before at table, who she received in the
evening, and, in a word, the conversation of Anna Vlassiefna[73] might
have been a leaf from any memoir of the day, and would be invaluable
now. Marya Ivanofna heard her with great attention.

They went together to the Imperial Gardens, where Anna Vlassiefna told
Marya the history of every walk and each little bridge. Both then
returned home, charmed with one another.

On the morrow, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the
Imperial Gardens. The morning was lovely. The sun gilded with its beams
the tops of the lindens, already yellowed by the keen breath of autumn.
The large lake sparkled unruffled; the swans, just awake, were gravely
quitting the bushes on the bank. Marya went to the edge of a beautiful
lawn, where had lately been erected a monument in honour of the recent
victories of Count Roumianzeff. [74]

All at once a little dog of English breed ran towards her, barking.
Marya stopped short, alarmed. At this moment a pleasant woman's voice
said--

"Do not be afraid; he will not hurt you. "

Marya saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench opposite the monument,
and she went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The lady
looked attentively at her, and Marya, who had stolen one glance at her,
could now see her well. She wore a cap and a white morning gown and a
little light cloak. She appeared about 50 years old; her face, full and
high-coloured, expressed repose and gravity, softened by the sweetness
of her blue eyes and charming smile. She was the first to break the
silence.

"Doubtless you are not of this place? " she asked.

"You are right, lady; I only arrived yesterday from the country. "

"You came with your parents? "

"No, lady, alone. "

"Alone! but you are very young to travel by yourself. "

"I have neither father nor mother. "

"You are here on business? "

"Yes, lady, I came to present a petition to the Tzarina. "

"You are an orphan; doubtless you have to complain of injustice or
wrong. "

"No, lady, I came to ask grace, and not justice. "

"Allow me to ask a question: Who are you? "

"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff. "

"Of Captain Mironoff? He who commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg
district? "

"Yes, lady. "

The lady appeared moved.

"Forgive me," she resumed, in a yet softer voice, "if I meddle in your
affairs; but I am going to Court. Explain to me the object of your
request; perhaps I may be able to help you. "

Marya rose, and respectfully saluted her. Everything in the unknown lady
involuntarily attracted her, and inspired trust. Marya took from her
pocket a folded paper; she offered it to her protectress, who ran over
it in a low voice.

When she began she looked kind and interested, but all at once her face
changed, and Marya, who followed with her eyes her every movement, was
alarmed by the hard expression of the face lately so calm and gracious.

"You plead for Grineff," said the lady, in an icy tone. "The Tzarina
cannot grant him grace. He passed over to the usurper, not as an
ignorant and credulous man, but as a depraved and dangerous
good-for-nothing. "

"It's not true! " cried Marya.

"What! it's not true? " retorted the lady, flushing up to her eyes.

"It is not true, before God it is not true," exclaimed Marya. "I know
all; I will tell you all. It is for me only that he exposed himself to
all the misfortunes which have overtaken him. And if he did not
vindicate himself before the judges, it is because he did not wish me to
be mixed up in the affair. "

And Marya eagerly related all the reader already knows.

The lady listened with deep attention.

"Where do you lodge? " she asked, when the young girl concluded her
story. And when she heard that it was with Anna Vlassiefna, she added,
with a smile: "Ah! I know! Good-bye! Do not tell anyone of our meeting.
I hope you will not have to wait long for an answer to your letter. "

Having said these words, she rose and went away by a covered walk.

Marya returned home full of joyful hope.

Her hostess scolded her for her early morning walk--bad, she said, in
the autumn for the health of a young girl.