I was to my time, the next morning, behind a haystack; Chvabrine was also punctual. We had just stripped our coats off, when the one-eyed officer appeared with five invalids, and marched us off in custody.
Vassilissa ordered us to give up our swords, and told Palachka to take them up into the loft; for, in truth, Vassilissa was the commandant of Bélogorsk. She then ordered Ivan Kourmitch to put us in opposite corners of the rooms, and to feed us on bread and water until we repented. Marie was very pale. After a stormy discussion, however, our swords were restored to us, and I parted with my adversary: feigning reconcilement, but secretly agreeing to meet again when the affair had quite blown over. The next night I had an opportunity of talking alone with Marie Ivanovna; and I learned from her—how she blushed as she told me!—that Chvabrine had proposed marriage to her, but that she had refused him. This information explained to me the fellow’s measured scandal. I burned to meet him again.
I had not to wait long. The next day, as I was biting my pen, thinking of a rhyme in an elegy I was composing, the very fellow tapped at my window. I understood him; seized my sword; engaged with him; and fell presently—wounded in the shoulder, and insensible.
When I became once more conscious, I found myself in a strange bed, Savéliitch by my side, and—Marie Ivanovna also. She asked me tenderly how I felt? Savéliitch, faithful fellow, cried out:
“Thanks to Heaven he recovers, after four days of it!”
But Marie interrupted him, and begged him not to disturb me with his loud exclamations. I seized her hand, and she did not withdraw it. Presently I felt her burning lips upon my forehead. I asked her then to become my wife. She begged me to calm myself, if only for her sake, and left me.
Although the barber of the regiment was my only medical adviser, I soon recovered. I and Marie were engaged; but she doubted whether my parents would consent. This doubt I could not help sharing; but the letter I wrote to my father on the subject appeared to both of us so tender and convincing, that we felt certain of its success, and gave ourselves up to the happy dreams of lovers.
I found that Chvabrine was a prisoner in the corn-warehouse, and that Vassilissa had his sword under lock and key. I obtained his pardon from the captain; and, in my happiness at tracing his wretched calumny to offended pride, forgave him. My father, in answer to my appeal, refused my prayer, and informed me that I should soon be removed from Bélogorsk. He also wrote to Savéliitch, and called him “an old dog,” for not having taken better care of me.
I went straight to my mistress. She was bitterly distressed, but adjured me to follow the will of Heaven, and submit. She would never marry me, she declared, without the benediction of my parents, and from that day she avoided me.
This was towards the end of the year seventeen hundred and seventy-three. The inhabitants of the vast and fertile province of Orenberg had only lately acknowledged the sovereignty of the Czar, and were yet discontented, and full of revolutionary ideas. Every month some little insurrection bubbled up. To suppress this harassing state of things, the imperial government had erected fortresses in various parts of the province, and quartered therein Cossack soldiers. These Cossacks in their turn became turbulent; and the severe measures adopted by General Traubenberg to reduce the army to obedience ended in his cruel murder, and a rising that cost much blood. By severe imperial punishments this rising had been suppressed; and it was only some time after my arrival at Bélogorsk that the authorities perceived how ineffectual their cruel punishments had been.