Pugatchéf 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 Pugatchéf 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 Pugatchéf; "now tell me in what state is your town?"
"Thank God," replied I, "all is in good order."
"In good order!" repeated Pugatchéf, "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 Pugatchéf.