‘That’s true enough,’ Pugachev said, laughing. ‘My tosspots would not have spared the poor girl. The priest’s old goodwife did well to mislead them.’
‘Listen,’ I said, seeing him so kindly disposed. ‘I do not know what to call you, and I do not want to know…. But God is my witness that I would gladly repay you with my life for what you have done for me. Only do not demand of me anything which would be against my honour and my Christian conscience. You are my benefactor. Finish as you have begun: let me go away with that poor orphan whither God may lead us. And wherever you may be, and whatever happens to you, we will pray every day of our lives for the salvation of your sinful soul….’
Pugachev’s grim heart seemed touched.
‘So be it!’ he said. ‘Whether it be punishing or pardoning, I don’t believe in half measures. Take your sweetheart, go with her wherever you will, and God grant you love and concord!’
Then he turned to Shvabrin and told him to give me a safe-conduct for all outposts and fortresses subject to his rule. Shvabrin, utterly crushed, stood like one transfixed. Pugachev went to look at the fortress. Shvabrin accompanied him, while I remained behind on the pretext of making ready for the journey.
I ran upstairs. The door was locked. I knocked. ‘Who is there?’ asked Palasha. I called out my name. Maria Ivanovna’s sweet voice came from behind the door. ‘Wait a moment, Piotr Andreich. I am changing my dress. Go to Akulina Pamfilovna’s: I shall be there directly.’
I obeyed and went to Father Gerassim’s house. Both he and his wife ran out to meet me. Savelich had already told them I had come.
‘Good day to you, Piotr Andreich,’ said the priest’s wife. ‘God has brought us together again. How are you? Not a day has passed without our talking of you. Maria Ivanovna, poor little dear, has been through a dreadful time without you!… But tell me, my friend, how come you to hit it off with that Pugachev? How is it he hasn’t murdered you? Excellent! We must thank the villain for that, at all events.’
‘That will do, my dear,’ Father Gerassim interrupted her. ‘Don’t always go babbling about what you know. There is no salvation in too much talking. Come in now, Piotr Andreich, come in, please. It is a long, long time since we saw you.’
The priest’s wife set before me what food there was in the house, chattering away incessantly as she did so. She told me how Shvabrin had forced them to give up Maria Ivanovna; how Maria Ivanovna wept and did not want to be parted from them; how Maria Ivanovna had always kept in touch with her through Palashka (a spirited girl who had the sergeant himself dancing to her tune); how she had advised Maria Ivanovna to write to me, and so on. I in my turn briefly related my story. The priest and his wife crossed themselves when they learned that Pugachev knew of their deception. ‘The power of the Holy Cross be with us!’ said Akulina Pamfilovna. ‘May God avert the storm! Fancy that Shvabrin betraying us – the serpent!’ At that moment the door opened and Maria Ivanovna came in, a smile on her pale face. She had doffed her peasant clothes and was dressed as before, with a becoming simplicity.
I clasped her hand and for some time could not utter a word. The hearts of both of us were too full for speech. Our hosts felt that we did not need their presence, and left us. We were alone. Everything else was forgotten. We talked and talked and could not say enough to each other. Maria Ivanovna related to me all that had happened to her after the fortress was taken; she described all the horror of her position and all that she had had to endure at the hands of the infamous Shvabrin. We recalled the happy days of the past…. We were both weeping…. At last I began to unfold my plans. For her to remain in a fortress subject to Pugachev and ruled by Shvabrin was impossible. Neither could I think of taking her to Orenburg, then undergoing all the miseries of a siege. She had no one belonging to her in the whole world. I suggested that she should go to my parents in their village. She hesitated at first, being alarmed by my father’s unfriendly disposition towards her, which she knew of. But on that score I made her mind easy. I knew that my father would be happy and consider it his duty to welcome the daughter of a gallant soldier who had died in the service of his country. ‘Dear Maria Ivanovna,’ I said to her at last, ‘I look upon you as my wife. Miraculous circumstances have united us for ever: nothing on earth can part us.’ Maria Ivanovna listened to me simply, without any pretended bashfulness or feigned reluctance. She felt that her fate was linked with mine. But she repeated that she would only marry me if my parents consented. I did not gainsay her. We kissed each other fervently, sincerely – and in this manner all was settled between us.
An hour later, Maximich brought me my safe-conduct, signed with Pugachev’s scrawl, and said that he wanted to see me. I found him ready to take to the road. I cannot describe what I felt on parting company with this terrible man, this monster of evil to all but me. Why not confess the truth? At that moment a strong instinctive sense of liking drew me to him. I longed to tear him away from the criminals whose leader he was, and to save his head before it was too late. But Shvabrin and the people who crowded round us prevented me from giving expression to all that was in my heart.
We parted friends. Catching sight of Akulina Pamfilovna in the press, Pugachev shook his finger at her and winked meaningfully. Then he seated himself in his sledge, told the driver to return to Berda, and as the horses moved off he leaned his head out once more and shouted to me: ‘Adieu, your Honour! We may yet meet again.’ We did indeed meet again, but in what circumstances!…
Pugachev was gone. I stood for a long time gazing at the white steppe over which his troika went gliding rapidly away. The crowd dispersed. Shvabrin disappeared. I returned to the priest’s house. Everything was ready for our departure. I did not wish to delay any longer. All our belongings had been packed in the commandant’s old travelling carriage. The horses were harnessed in a twinkling. Maria Ivanovna went to say farewell to the graves of her parents, who were buried behind the church. I wanted to accompany her but she begged to go alone. After a few minutes she came back, weeping silently. The carriage was brought up. Father Gerassim and his wife came out on to the steps. The three of us – Maria Ivanovna, Palasha and I – seated ourselves inside, while Savelich perched himself on the box. ‘Good-bye, Maria Ivanovna, my little one! Good-bye, Piotr Andreich, brave knight!’ the priest’s kind wife said to us. ‘A safe journey, and may God grant the two of you happiness!’ We set off. I saw Shvabrin standing at the little window of the commandant’s house. His face wore an expression of black animosity. I had no wish to exult over a defeated enemy and turned my eyes in another direction. At last we passed out of the gates, and left the fortress of Bielogorsk for ever.
13
THE ARREST
‘Sire, be not angry, for duty bids
Me send you to gaol this very day.’
– ‘As you please, I am ready, although I
Could hope you would first let me have my say.’
KNIAZHNIN
UNITED so unexpectedly with the dear girl about whom only that morning I had been so terribly anxious, I could scarcely believe the evidence of my senses, and fancied that all that had happened to me was an empty dream. Maria Ivanovna gazed abstractedly now at me now at the road, and it seemed as if she was not yet fully recovered. We were both silent. Our hearts were spent. We did not notice the passing of time, and a couple of hours later suddenly found ourselves at the neighbouring fortress which was also in Pugachev’s hands. Here we changed horses. By the rapidity with which they were harnessed, and by the marked obligingness of the bearded Cossack, promoted by Pugachev to the dignity of commandant, I perceived that, thanks to our driver’s loquacity, I was being taken for one of their master’s favourites.
We continued our journey. Dusk was falling. We approached a small town where, according to the bearded commandant, there was a strong detachment of Pugachev’s supporters on their way to join him. We were stopped by the sentries. To the challenge: ‘Who goes there?’ our driver replied in a loud voice: ‘The Tsar’s f
riend with his lady.’ Suddenly a troop of hussars surrounded us, uttering the most fearful curses. ‘Come out, you friend of the devil!’ said their heavily-moustached sergeant to me. ‘We’ll make it hot for you presently, and that good lady of yours too!’
I stepped out of the sledge and demanded to be taken to their commanding officer. Seeing my uniform, the soldiers ceased their imprecations. The sergeant conducted me to the major. Savelich did not leave my side, muttering to himself: ‘There’s “Tsar’s friend” for you! Out of the frying-pan into the fire…. Lord Almighty, what will be the end of it all?’ The sledge followed slowly behind us.
After five minutes’ walk we came to a small, brilliantly lighted house. The sergeant left me with the sentries and went in to announce me. He returned at once, saying that his high Honour had not time to see me but that I was to be gaoled and my lady brought to him.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ I exclaimed in a rage. ‘Has he gone out of his mind?’
‘I do not know, your Honour,’ replied the sergeant. ‘Only his high Honour said that your Honour was to be taken to gaol and her Honour brought to his high Honour!’
I dashed up the steps. The sentries made no attempt to detain me and I ran straight into the room where half a dozen hussar officers were playing cards. The major was dealing. What was my amazement when I glanced at him and recognized Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, who had rooked me at the Simbirsk inn!
‘Is it possible?’ I cried. ‘Ivan Ivanich! Can it be you?’
‘Zounds! Piotr Andreich! What chance brings you here? Where have you come from? Capital, my friend! Would you care for a hand?’
‘I thank you. But I would rather you gave orders to have lodgings found for me.’
‘What do you want with lodgings? Stay with me.’
‘I cannot: I am not alone.’
‘Well, bring your comrade along too.’
‘I am not with a comrade, I am… with a lady.’
‘A lady! Where did you pick her up? Aha, brother mine!’
And with these words Zurin whistled so expressively that all the others burst out laughing and I felt completely disconcerted.
‘Well,’ Zurin went on, ‘so be it. You shall have quarters. But it’s a pity…. We could have junketed a bit, the way we did before…. Hey, boy! Why don’t they bring along Pugachev’s sweetheart? Or doesn’t she want to come? Tell her she need not be afraid, the gentleman is very kind and will do her no harm – and then give her a good slap to hurry her up.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I said to Zurin. ‘Pugachev’s sweetheart? It is the late Captain Mironov’s daughter. I rescued her and now I am taking her to my father’s, where I shall leave her.’
‘What! So it was you, then, who was announced to me just now? Upon my word, what does all this mean?’
‘I will tell you afterwards. But now for Heaven’s sake reassure the poor girl whom your hussars have frightened out of her wits.’
Zurin immediately issued the necessary orders. He went out into the street himself to apologize to Maria Ivanovna for the involuntary misunderstanding, and told the sergeant to give her the best lodging in the town. I was to spend the night with him.
We had supper and when we were left alone together I related my adventures. Zurin listened with deep attention. When I had finished he shook his head and said: ‘That is all very well, brother: except for one thing – why the devil do you want to get married? As an officer and a man of honour, I would not mislead you: believe me, marriage is all nonsense. Why saddle yourself with a wife and spend your life dandling brats? A pox on the idea! Do as I tell you: get rid of the Captain’s daughter. I have cleared the road to Simbirsk and it is safe now. Send the girl on by herself to your parents tomorrow, and you stay with me in my detachment. There is no need for you to return to Orenburg. If you should fall into the rebels’ hands again you might not escape so easily yet another time. Thus this love-foolishness of yours will die a natural death and all will be well.’
Although I did not altogether agree with him, yet I felt that duty and honour demanded my presence in the army of the Empress. I resolved to follow Zurin’s advice and send Maria Ivanovna to my home village while I remained in his detachment.
Savelich came in to help me undress; I told him that he must be ready next day to continue the journey with Maria Ivanovna. He was for objecting at first. ‘What are you thinking of, sir? How can I leave you? Who will look after you? What will your parents say?’
Knowing Savelich’s obstinacy, I resolved to win him by wheedling and coaxing.
‘Dear Savelich!’ I said. ‘Do not refuse me: be my good friend. I shall not need you here, and I should not feel easy if Maria Ivanovna were to journey without you. By serving her you will be serving me, for I am determined to marry her so soon as circumstances will allow.’
At this Savelich threw up his hands in a gesture of indescribable astonishment.
‘To marry!’ he repeated. ‘The child wants to marry? But what will your father say? What will your mother think?’
‘They will give their consent. I am sure they will give their consent when they know Maria Ivanovna,’ I answered. ‘I rely on you, too. Father and Mother have great confidence in you: you will intercede for us, won’t you?’
The old man was touched.
‘Ah, Piotr Andreich, dear,’ he answered, ‘though it is early days for you to be thinking of getting married, Maria Ivanovna is such a good young lady that it would be a sin to miss the opportunity. Have it your own way! I will accompany her, the angel, and tell your parents faithfully that such a bride does not need a dowry.’
I thanked Savelich and lay down to sleep in the same room with Zurin. My mind was in a turmoil, and I chattered away without intermission. At first Zurin answered me readily enough, but gradually his words became fewer and more disconnected; at last, instead of a reply to one of my questions, I heard a snore and the whistle of his breathing. I stopped talking and soon followed his example.
Next morning I betook myself to Maria Ivanovna and told her of my plans. She recognized their good sense and agreed with me at once. Zurin’s detachment was to leave the town that same day. There was no time to lose. I said good-bye to Maria Ivanovna there and then, putting her in Savelich’s care and giving her a letter to my parents. Maria Ivanovna burst into tears. ‘Farewell, Piotr Andreich,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Whether we shall meet again, only God knows; but I will never forget you as long as I live: till my dying day you alone shall remain in my heart.’ I could not answer her. Other people were there. I did not want to abandon myself before them to the feelings that agitated me. At last she drove away. I returned to Zurin, depressed and silent. He tried to cheer me; I sought distraction: we spent a noisy, riotous day, and in the evening set out on our march.
It was now near the end of February. The winter, which had rendered military operations difficult, was drawing to its close, and our generals were preparing for concerted action. Pugachev was still camped outside the walls of Orenburg. Meanwhile, our different detachments were joining forces and approaching the brigand’s nest from all sides. Rebellious villages were restored to obedience at the sight of our troops; brigand bands fled from us, and everything indicated a speedy and successful termination of the campaign.
Soon Prince Golitsyn defeated Pugachev at the gates of the fortress of Tatishcheva, routed his hordes, relieved Orenburg and dealt, so it seemed, the final and decisive blow to the rebellion. At this time Zurin was sent against a party of rebellious Bashkirs, who dispersed before we could catch sight of them. Spring found us in a little Tartar village. Rivers were in flood and roads impassable. We comforted ourselves in our inaction with the thought that this petty and tedious war with brigands and savages would soon be over.
But Pugachev had not been captured. He appeared in the foundry districts of Siberia, where he gathered together a fresh collection of followers and recommenced his male-factions. Again rumours of his successes spread abroad. We hea
rd of the destruction of the Siberian fortresses. Soon news that Kazan had been captured and that the Pretender was marching on Moscow alarmed our leaders who had been slumbering carefree in the fond hope that the despised rebel was powerless to do anything. Zurin received orders to cross the Volga.1
I shall not describe our campaign and the end of the war. I will only say that misery was widespread. Law and order came to a standstill; the gentry hid in the forests. Bands of brigands roamed the countryside, robbing and plundering. Commanders of isolated detachments punished and pardoned as they pleased; the whole of the immense region where the conflagration raged was in a parlous condition…. Heaven send that we may never see such another senseless and merciless rebellion à la russe!
Pugachev was in flight, pursued by Ivan Ivanovich Mikhelson.2 Soon we learned of his complete defeat. At last Zurin received news of the capture of the impostor, and, at the same time, orders to halt. The war was over. I could go to my parents at last! The thought of embracing them, and of seeing Maria Ivanovna, of whom I had heard nothing, filled me with transports of delight. I danced about like a child. Zurin laughed and said with a shrug of his shoulders: ‘No, no good will come of it! If you marry, you will be done for, and to no advantage!’
But withal a strange feeling poisoned my joy: the thought of the miscreant smeared with the blood of so many innocent victims, and of the punishment which awaited him, troubled me in spite of myself. ‘Why did he not fall on a bayonet? Or get hit by grape-shot?’ I thought to myself miserably. ‘That would have been the best thing for him to do.’ And how could I feel otherwise? I could not think of Pugachev without remembering how he had spared me at one of the most terrible moments of my life, and how he had rescued my betrothed from the hands of the infamous Shvabrin.
Zurin granted me leave of absence. In a few days I should be with my family again, and see my Maria Ivanovna…. Suddenly an unexpected storm burst upon me.
The Queen of Spades and Other Stories Page 27
