Soon everybody was talking about Pougatcheff. The reports concerning him varied very much. The Commandant sent his orderly to glean as much information as possible about him in all the neighbouring villages and fortresses. The orderly returned after an absence of two days, and reported that, at about sixty versts from the fortress, he had seen a large number of fires upon the steppe, and that he had heard from the Bashkirs that an immense force was advancing. He could not say anything more positive, because he had feared to venture further.
An unusual agitation now began to be observed among the Cossacks of the fortress; in all the streets they congregated in small groups, quietly conversing among themselves, and dispersing whenever they caught sight of a dragoon or any other soldier belonging to the garrison. They were closely watched by spies. Youlai, a converted Calmuck, made an important communication to the commandant. The orderly’s report, according to Youlai, was a false one; on his return the treacherous Cossack announced to his companions that he had been among the rebels, and had been presented to their leader, who had given him his hand and had conversed with him for a long time. The Commandant immediately placed the orderly under arrest, and appointed Youlai in his place. This change was the cause of manifest dissatisfaction among the Cossacks. They murmured loudly, and Ivan Ignatitch, who executed the Commandant’s instructions, with his own ears heard them say:
“Just wait a little while, you garrison rat!”
The Commandant had intended interrogating the prisoner that very same day, but the orderly had made his escape, no doubt with the assistance of his partisans.
A fresh event served to increase the Commandant’s uneasiness. A Bashkir, carrying seditious letters, was seized. On this occasion the Commandant again decided upon assembling his officers, and therefore he wished once more to get Vassilissa Egorovna out of the way under some plausible pretext. But as Ivan Kouzmitch was a most upright and sincere man, he could find no other method than that employed on the previous occasion.
“Listen, Vassilissa Egorovna,” he said to her, coughing to conceal his embarrassment: “they say that Father Gerasim has received——”
“That’s enough, Ivan Kouzmitch,” said his wife, interrupting him: “you wish to assemble a council of war to talk about Emelian Pougatcheff without my being present; but you shall not deceive me this time.”
Ivan Kouzmitch opened his eyes.
“Well, little mother,” he said, “if you know everything, you may remain; we shall speak in your presence.”
“Very well, my little father,” replied she; “you should not try to be so cunning; send for the officers.”