What I feared came to pass.
No sooner had he heard Pugatchéf's proposal than Chvabrine lost his head.
"Tzar," said he, furiously, "I am guilty, I have lied to you; but Grineff also deceives you. This young girl is not the pope's niece; she is the daughter of Iván Mironoff, who was executed when the fort was taken."
Pugatchéf turned his flashing eyes on me.
"What does all this mean?" cried he, with indignant surprise.
But I made answer boldly—
"Chvabrine has told you the truth."
"You had not told me that," rejoined Pugatchéf, whose brow had suddenly darkened.
"But judge yourself," replied I; "could I declare before all your people that she was Mironoff's daughter? They would have torn her in pieces, nothing could have saved her."
"Well, you are right," said Pugatchéf. "My drunkards would not have spared the poor girl; my gossip, the pope's wife, did right to deceive them."