“Take the oath of fealty,” said Pougatcheff to him, “to the Emperor Peter Fedorovitch!”
“You are not our emperor,” replied Ivan Ignatitch, repeating the words of his captain; “you, uncle, are a robber and a pretender!”
Pougatcheff again waved his handkerchief, and the good lieutenant was soon hanging near his old chief.
It was now my turn. I looked defiantly at Pougatcheff, prepared to repeat the answer of my brave comrades, when, to my inexpressible astonishment, I perceived, among the rebels, Shvabrin, his hair cut close, and wearing a Cossack kaftan. He stepped up to Pougatcheff and whispered a few words in his ear.
“Let him be hanged!” said Pougatcheff, without even looking at me.
The rope was thrown round my neck. I began to repeat a prayer to myself, expressing sincere repentance for all my sins, and imploring God to save all those who were dear to me. I was led beneath the gibbet.
“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid,” said my executioners, wishing sincerely, perhaps, to encourage me.
Suddenly I heard a cry:
“Stop, villains! hold!”
The executioners paused. I looked round. Savelitch was on his knees at the feet of Pougatcheff.