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Updated: May 12, 2025
My heart failed me; I burst into tears and murmured the name of my loved one. At this moment I heard a slight noise, and Polashka, very pale, came out from behind the press. "Oh, Petr' Andréjïtch," said she, wringing her hands; "what a day, what horrors!" "Marya Ivánofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivánofna?"
Vassilissa Igorofna instantly had a great wish to go and see the Pope's wife, and, by the advice of Iván Kouzmitch, she took Masha, lest she should be dull all alone. Left master of the field, Iván Kouzmitch sent to fetch us at once, and took care to shut up Polashka in the kitchen so that she might not spy upon us.
The washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox, and the one-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother with such stories against the "moussié," that she, who did not at all like these kind of jokes, in her turn complained to my father, who, a man of hasty temperament, instantly sent for that rascal of a Frenchman.
Marya Ivánofna 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. Pugatchéf withdrew, and we all three returned to the parlour.
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. I ran to Marya's room. The door was shut; I knocked. "Who is there?" asked Polashka. I gave my name.
Polashka had followed me; I sent her secretly to call aside Akoulina Pamphilovna. The next minute the pope's wife came out into the ante-room, an empty bottle in her hand. "In heaven's name where is Marya Ivánofna?" I asked, with indescribable agitation. "She is in bed, the little dove," replied the pope's wife, "in my bed, behind the partition. Ah!
"Look here, little mother, the country-women have taken it into their heads to light fires with straw, and as that might be the cause of a misfortune, I assembled my officers, and I ordered them to watch that the women do not make fires with straw, but rather with faggots and brambles." "And why were you obliged to shut up Polashka?" his wife asked him.
"The young lady is alive," replied Polashka; "she is hidden at Akoulina Pamphilovna's." "In the pope's house!" I exclaimed, affrighted. "Good God! Pugatchéf is there!" I rushed out of the room, in two jumps I was in the street and running wildly towards the pope's house. From within there resounded songs, shouts, and bursts of laughter; Pugatchéf was at the table with his companions.
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