We crossed the ravine and entered the village. In all the huts fires were burning. Noise and shouts resounded on every side. In the streets I met a large number of people; but nobody observed us in the darkness, and no one recognized in me an officer from Orenburg. We were conducted straight to a cottage which stood at the corner where two streets met. Before the door stood several wine-casks and two pieces of artillery.
“This is the palace,” said one of the peasants; “we will announce you at once.”
He entered the cottage. I glanced at Savelitch: the old man was making the sign of the cross and muttering his prayers to himself.
I waited a long time; at last the peasant returned and said to me:
“Come inside; our father has given orders for the officer to be brought before him.”
I entered the cottage, or the palace, as the peasants called it. It was lighted by two tallow candles, and the walls were covered with gilt paper; otherwise, the benches, the table, the little wash-hand basin suspended by a cord, the towel hanging on a nail, the oven-fork in the corner, the broad shelf loaded with pots—everything was the same as in an ordinary cottage. Pougatcheff was seated under the holy picture,[1] dressed in a red caftan and wearing a tall cap, and with his arms set akimbo in a very self-important manner. Around him stood several of his principal followers, with looks of feigned respect and submission upon their faces. It was evident that the news of the arrival of an officer from Orenburg had awakened a great curiosity among the rebels, and that they had prepared to receive me with as much pomp as possible. Pougatcheff recognized me at the first glance. His assumed importance vanished all at once.
“Ah! your lordship!” said he gaily. “How do you do?”
“What, in Heaven’s name, has brought you here?”
I replied that I was travelling on my own business, and that his people had stopped me.
“What business?” asked he.