But we were not robbed; and, the following morning, as we left to proceed on our journey, I gave my hare-skin touloup, much against my servant’s wish, to the guide who had led us to the house. The guide was grateful, and promised that if ever he could be of service to me I should be served. At that time the promise seemed sufficiently ridiculous.
We arrived without further adventure at Orenberg, where I presented my letter to the general, who received me kindly, and then sent me to serve, under the orders of Captain Mirinoff, in the fort of Bélogorsk. This did not please me. The fort was a wretched little village, surrounded by palisades. I stopped before a little wooden house, which, I was informed, was the commandant’s. I entered. In the antechamber I found an old man, seated upon a table, occupied in sewing a blue patch upon one of the elbows of a green uniform. He beckoned me into the inner chamber. It was a clean little room, with an officer’s commission, neatly framed, hanging against the wall, and rude prints surrounding it. In one corner of the room an old lady, with a handkerchief bound round her head, was unwinding some thread from the hands of a little old man with only one eye, who wore an officer’s uniform. The old lady, on seeing me, said:
“Ivan Kourmitch is not at home; but I am his wife. Be good enough to love us, and take a seat, my little father.”
I obeyed, and the old lady sent for her subaltern, the ouriadnik. While the servant was gone, the lady and the officer both questioned me, and judged that it was for some offence that I was sent to Bélogorsk. The lady informed me that Chvabrine, an officer at Bélogorsk, had been sent thither for duelling. The ouriadnik appeared, and was a fine specimen of a Cossack officer.
“Quarter Piote Andréïtch,” said the old lady, “upon Siméon Kouroff. The fellow let his horse break into my garden.”
These, my quarters, looked out upon the dreary steppe. The next morning a little fellow, with a remarkably vivacious appearance, came to see me. I found that he was Chvabrine, the duellist. His lively conversation amused me, and we went together that day to the commandant’s house to dinner. As we approached it I saw about twenty little old invalids, wearing long tails, and three-cornered hats, ranged in order of battle. The commandant, a tall, hale old man, dressed in a cotton nightcap and a morning gown, was reviewing this terrible force. He spoke some civil words to me, and we left him to complete his military duties. When we arrived at his house, we found the old one-eyed man and Palachka laying the cloth. Presently, the captain’s daughter, Marie, made her appearance. Chvabrine had described her to me as a very foolish person. She was about sixteen years of age, had a fine fresh colour, and was very bashful.
I did not think much of her that day. She blushed terribly when her mother declared that all she could bring her husband in the way of wealth was a comb and a few kopeks. We talked chiefly of the possibility of standing a siege from the Bachkirs; and the commandant declared that if such a siege occurred he would teach the enemy a terrible lesson. I thought of the twenty invalids, and did not feel quite so confident on the subject.
Ivan Kourmitch and his wife Vassilissa were very kind to me, and received me as one of the family. I liked the little one-eyed officer; I became more intimate with Marie.
Father Garasim and his wife Akoulina I was also glad to meet, almost daily, at the commandant’s house. But I soon disliked Chvabrine. He talked lightly and slightingly of Marie, and even of Vassilissa. One day, however, I read to him some amorous verses I had written; he saw at once, and truly, that they were addressed to Marie. He ridiculed them mercilessly, and told me that if I wished to win the love of Marie I had only to give her a pair of ear-rings. I flew into a passion, and asked him how he dared to take away the character of the commandant’s daughter. He replied, impertinently, that he spoke of her from personal experience. I told him to his teeth that he lied. He demanded satisfaction.
I went to the one-eyed officer—whom I found threading mushrooms for Vassilissa—to ask him to act as second. But he declined. In the evening I was at the commandant’s house; and thinking that night that it might be my last, as my duel with Chvabrine was to be early on the morrow, Marie appeared dearer to me than ever. Chvabrine came, and behaved so insolently that I could hardly wait until the morrow.