Maria Ivanovna listened to me without any assumption of affectation. She felt that her fate was linked with mine. But she repeated that she would never be my wife, except with the consent of my parents. I did not contradict her. We kissed each other fervently and passionately, and in this manner everything was resolved upon between us.
About an hour afterwards, the orderly brought me my safe conduct, inscribed with Pougatcheff’s scrawl, and informed me that his master wished to see me. I found him ready to st out on his road. I cannot describe what I felt on taking leave of this terrible man, this outcast, so villainously cruel to all except myself alone. But why should I not tell the truth? At that moment I felt drawn towards him by a powerful sympathy. I ardently wished to tear him away! from the midst of the scoundrels, whom he commanded, and save his head while there was yet time. Shvabrin, and the crowd gathered around us, prevented me from giving expression to all that filled my heart.
We parted as friends. Pougatcheff, catching sight of Akoulina Pamphilovna among the crowd, threatened her with his finger and winked significantly; then he seated himself in his kibitka[2] and gave orders to return to Berd; and when the horses started off, he leaned once out of the carriage, and cried out to me: “Farewell, your lordship! Perhaps we shall see each other again!”
We did indeed see each other again, but under what circumstances!
Pougatcheff was gone. I stood for a long time gazing across the white steppe, over which his troika[6] went gliding rapidly. The crowd dispersed. Shvabrin disappeared. I returned to the pope’s house. Everything was ready for our departure; I did not wish to delay any longer. Our luggage had already been deposited in the Commandant’s old travelling carriage. The horses were harnessed in a twinkling. Maria Ivanovna went to pay a farewell visit to the graves of her parents, who were buried behind the church. I wished to accompany her, but she begged of me to let her go alone. After a few minutes she returned silently weeping. The carriage was ready. Father Gerasim and his wife came out upon the steps. Maria Ivanovna, Palasha and I took our places inside the kibitka, while Savelitch seated himself in the front.
“Farewell, Maria Ivanovna, my little dove; farewell, Peter Andreitch, my fine falcon!” said the pope’s good wife. “A safe journey, and may God bless you both and make you happy!”
We drove off. At the window of the Commandant’s house I perceived Shvabrin standing. His face wore an expression of gloomy malignity. I did not wish to triumph over a defeated enemy, so I turned my eyes the other way.
At last we passed out of the gate, and left the fortress of Bailogorsk behind us for ever.
[1] Diminutive of Palasha.