“Do not fire! Come out and pay homage to the Czar. The Czar is here!”
“Look out for yourselves!” cried Ivan Kouzmitch, “Ready, lads—fire!”
Our soldiers fired a volley. The Cossack who held the letter staggered and fell from his horse; the others galloped back. I turned and looked at Maria Ivanovna. Terror-stricken by the sight of the bloodstained head of Youlai, and stunned by the din of the discharge, she seemed perfectly paralyzed. The Commandant called the corporal and ordered him to fetch the paper from the hands of the fallen Cossack. The corporal went out into the plain, and returned leading by the bridle the horse of the dead man. He handed the letter to the Commandant. Ivan Kouzmitch read it to himself and then tore it into pieces. In the meantime we could see the rebels preparing for the attack. Soon the bullets began to whistle about our ears, and several arrows fell close to us, sticking in the ground and in the palisade.
“Vassilissa Egorovna!” said the Commandant; “women have no business here. Take Masha away; you see that the girl is more dead than alive.”
Vassilissa Egorovna, tamed by the bullets, cast a glance at the steppe, where a great commotion was observable, and then turned round to her husband and said to him:
“Ivan Kouzmitch, life and death are in the hands of God; bless Masha. Masha, come near to your father.”
Masha, pale and trembling, approached Ivan Kouzmitch, knelt down before him, and bowed herself to the ground. The old Commandant made the sign of the cross over her three times, then raised her up, and kissing her, said in a voice of deep emotion:
“Well, Masha, be happy. Pray to God; He will never forsake you. If you find a good man, may God give you love and counsel. Live together as your mother and I have lived. And now, farewell, Masha. Vassilissa Egorovna, take her away quickly.”
Masha threw her arms round his neck and sobbed aloud.
“Let us kiss each other also,” said the Commandant’s wife, weeping. “Farewell, my Ivan Kouzmitch. Forgive me if I have ever vexed you in any way!”