One evening when I was sitting alone in my room, thinking of doleful things, I was sent for by the commandant. I found him in consultation with Chvabrine, Ivan Ignatiitch, and the ouriadnik of the Cossacks. Neither Marie nor her mother appeared. The subject of our conference was the rising of the Cossacks under Pougatcheff, and his assumption of the style and title of Peter the Third. The commandant had received orders to be on his guard; and, if possible, to exterminate the enemy. Putting on his spectacles, he began to bustle about, and to issue orders to have the cannon cleaned; and to have the Cossacks kept true to the imperial cause.
The ouriadnik had already deserted to the rebel’s camp. A Bachkir had been taken prisoner, with seditious papers upon his person. This prisoner, had been bound and secured in the commandant’s loft; and it was resolved that he should be conducted before us, and be subjected to the torture, in order to extract from him a description of his leader’s strength.
The commandant had scarcely ordered the Bachkir into his presence, when Vassilissa rushed into the chamber, and cried out that the rebels had taken the fortress of Nijnéosern, had hanged all the officers, and were now marching upon Bélogorsk. I thought of Marie, and trembled; but my energy increased with the occasion, and I at once advised the commandant to send the ladies to Orenberg. But Vassilissa would not hear of this. She declared that she would live and die with her husband, but that she thought Marie should be sent away; and that evening—the last Marie might possibly spend at Bélogorsk—the supper-table was surrounded by gloomy faces; and no face I think, was gloomier than mine. We parted early, but I contrived to forget my sword, that I might have an excuse for returning to bid Marie good-bye alone. When I returned, I clasped her in my arms; she sobbed bitterly; and thus we parted. I went home, and, without undressing myself, lay down to sleep.
I was aroused by the entrance of the corporal, who came to announce to me that the Cossack soldiers had all deserted the fortress, and that bands of strange men surrounded us. I thought, with horror, that Marie’s retreat was cut off. Having given some necessary orders to the bearer of this unwelcome news, I hurried off to the commandant’s house, as the day was dawning. On the way I was met by Ivan Ignatiitch, who told me that the commandant was already upon the ramparts, and that it was too late for the commandant’s daughter to be safely conveyed to Orenberg. Terribly agitated, I followed the one-eyed officer to that little eminence protected by a pallisade, which was the only fortification of Bélogorsk. The captain was arranging his soldiers in order of battle. In the dreary distance of the steppe, I could plainly see the Cossacks and the Bachkirs. The commandant ordered Ivan Ignatiitch to point the cannon upon the enemy, and the soldiers all vowed that they would fight to the death.
Presently, as the enemy began to advance in a compact mass, Vassilissa, accompanied by Marie, who would not leave her mother, appeared, to know how affairs stood. Marie’s pale face was turned upon me, and I burned to prove to her that I had a brave spirit worthy of her love. In the midst of the advancing enemy, Pougatcheff, the renowned rebel leader, could be distinguished, mounted upon a white horse. In a few minutes four horsemen advanced from the main body, and rode close up to the ramparts. They were four traitors from the fortress. They called upon us not to resist. The captain replied by a volley which killed one of the four, and the rest rode back to join the advancing army. The balls now began to whistle about us; and at this moment the commandant ordered Vassilissa and Marie to withdraw. The old man blessed his child, embraced his wife, and bade her put a sarafan upon Marie, lest she should require it; the sarafan being the rich robe in which the dead are buried. The pale girl came back to make to me the sign of a last farewell, and then went away with her mother.
The fall of the fortress was soon accomplished. Our soldiers would not fight (though they had very much affected me when they swore to do it), but threw down their arms after the first assault. We were taken prisoners, and dragged by the triumphant rebels through the streets, to an open place, where Pougatcheff was seated surrounded by his officers. He was handsomely dressed; and, as I caught a glimpse of his face through the crowd, I thought it was one I had seen before. Pougatcheff ordered the commandant to swear fidelity to him as his lawful czar. Ivan Kourmitch replied with a defiance. Pougatcheff fluttered a white handkerchief in the air, and in a few moments our poor commandant was swinging from a gibbet. Ivan Ignatiitch shared his commander’s fate: and then my turn came. I was ready to follow my brave brother officers; when Chvabrine, who had found time to cut his hair short and provide himself with a Cossack caftan, to desert to the enemy, whispered something in the chief’s ear. Pougatcheff, without looking at me, said, “Hang him at once!”
The rope was round my neck, and my thoughts were with Heaven, when I was suddenly released. I found that Savéliitch had thrown himself at the chief’s feet, and told him that a large sum would be paid for my ransom. I was put aside, and remained a horrified spectator of the scenes which ensued. A Cossack killed Vassilissa with his sword, at the foot of her husband’s gibbet, and then Pougatcheff went to Father Garasim’s to dinner. I rushed to the commandant’s house to find Marie; there every room had been ransacked. Presently, however, I found Palachka, and she told me that the commandant’s daughter was at Father Garasim’s house. Wild with terror I rushed thither, for it was to be the scene of Cossack revels. I asked for the father’s wife; and she told me that she had passed Marie off as her niece. The poor girl was safe. I returned home hastily, passing groups of rebels engaged in the work of pillage.
Savéliitch asked me whether I did not remember Pougatcheff. I did not. He was surprised; and reminded me of the drunken fellow to whom I had given my touloup on my way to Orenberg. He was right; that drunken wanderer was now the successful rebel-chief, and I understood the mercy that had been extended to me. But I was much troubled. I could not make up my mind to leave Marie; yet I knew that my duty to my country forbade me to remain in the midst of a rebel camp. While I was thinking deeply of these opposite calls upon my conduct, a Cossack arrived to take me once more before his chief, at the commandant’s house, where I found Pougatcheff seated at a table covered with bottles, and surrounded by eight or ten Cossack officers. The wine had already excited them. Chvabrine and the rebel ouriadnik, who had deserted with the Cossacks from the fort, were of the party.
Pougatcheff welcomed me heartily, and bade his officers make place for me at the banqueting table. I sat down in silence. Here, on the previous night, I had taken leave of Marie.
All were on good terms and quite free with their chief. A march upon Orenberg having been arranged, the officers retired. I was about to follow them, when Pougatcheff bade me remain. When we were alone, he burst into a fit of laughter; telling me he had spared me because of my kindness to him when he was hiding from his enemies, and that now, if I would serve him, he would heap favours upon me. He asked me to tell him frankly whether or not I believed him to be the Czar. I was firm, and told him that he was too clever to believe me, even if I were capable of telling him a lie to serve my purpose. He promised to make me field-marshal if I would remain with him. I replied that I had sworn to serve the Empress; and that, if he wished to do me a favour, he would provide me with an escort to Orenberg. I told him that my life was in his hands, but that I would neither serve him nor promise not to bear arms against him. He behaved well, and said I should be free.