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She had exiled him for life to the depths of Siberia! The blow nearly killed my father, his firmness gave way, and his usually silent sorrow burst into bitter plaints: "What! my son plotting with Pougatcheff! The Empress gives him his life! Execution not the worst thing in the world! My grandfather died on the scaffold in defense of his convictions!
I was taken again before the usurper and made to kneel at his feet. Pougatcheff offered me his muscular hand. "Kiss his hand! Kiss his hand!" cried out all around me. But I would have preferred the most atrocious torture to a degradation so infamous. "My dear Peter," whispered Saveliitch, who was standing behind me, "do not play the obstinate; what does it cost? Kiss the brigand's hand."
"You see my dear! indeed it would be well to send you somewhere farther off until we shall have defeated the rebels." "What nonsense!" replied she. "Where is the fortress that balls have not reached? In what respect is our fortress unsafe? Thank God, we have lived here twenty and one years. We have seen Bashkirs and Kirghis; Pougatcheff can not be worse than they."
Cossack chiefs surrounded him. Father Garasim, pale and trembling, stood, the cross in his hand, at the foot of the steps, and seemed to supplicate in silence for the victims brought before him. On the square itself, a gallows was hastily erected. When we approached, the Bashkirs opened a passage through the crowd and presented us to Pougatcheff. The bells ceased; the deepest silence prevailed.
Tonight there will be a council of war; you can give us some precise information regarding this Pougatcheff and his army. Meantime, go and rest." I went to my allotted quarters, where I found Saveliitch already installed. I awaited impatiently the hour indicated, and the reader may believe that I did not fail to be present at this council, which was to influence my whole life.
A boy in corporal's uniform came running to the brigand. "Read aloud," said he. I was curious to know for what purpose the old man had written to Pougatcheff. The Secretary began to spell out in a loud voice what follows: "Two dressing-gowns, one in percale, the other in striped silk, six roubles." "What does this mean?" said Pougatcheff, frowning.
"You did not tell me that," said the usurper, whose face darkened. "Judge of it yourself. Could I declare before your people that Marie was Captain Mironoff's daughter? They would have torn her to pieces. No one could have saved her." "You are right," said Pougatcheff, "my drunkards would not have spared the child. Accoulina did well to deceive them."
Marie, Polacca, and I sat in the interior of the kibitka. Saveliitch perched himself up in front. "Adieu, Marie, sweet little dove! Adieu, Peter, our handsome falcon!" exclaimed the kind Accoulina. Passing the Commandant's house, I saw Alexis, whose face expressed determined hate. In two hours we reached the neighboring fortress, which also belonged to Pougatcheff. We there changed horses.
"Silence!" interrupted the brigand, "this is my business. And you," said he, turning to Alexis, "do not be too officious. Whether she be your wife or not, I shall take whom I please into her room. Your lordship, follow me." At the door of the room Alexis stopped again: "Czar, she has had a fever these three days; she is delirious." "Open," said Pougatcheff.
But every thing else, the benches, the table, the basin hung up by a cord, the towel on a nail in the wall, the shelf laden with earthen vessels, were exactly the same as in any other cabin. Pougatcheff, wearing his scarlet cafetan and high Cossack cap, with his hand on his hip, sat beneath the sacred pictures common to every Russian abode. Around him stood several of his chiefs.
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