Then she began to scream like a mad woman, calling me shameful and dreadful names, and vowing that not only I should die, but also the Tsaritsa-elect and Mazeppa, and I know not who else besides.
At the noise a body of Streltsi came up, ten men, to inquire what the noise meant.
Olga was subdued at sight of them, and looked sullenly as they approached; but she stopped her screaming and waited.
The leader asked me what in the fiend’s name was all the noise they had heard.
‘It is my poor sister here,’ I explained, ‘who suffers from paroxysms of madness, of which one has just passed over her.’
‘Then see that she behaves quietly, or she shall find there is authority in Moscow.’
They withdrew laughing and talking among themselves.
‘I will tell them the truth next time, Olga,’ I said; ‘I swear it!—therefore take heed what you do.’
‘Next time I may make a better stroke,’ said Olga sullenly. ‘I am determined that you shall not live; you are not fit, neither is Praskovia Soltikof. We shall see whether they who offend me shall laugh or weep!’
With that she withdrew and disappeared, the poorer by her dagger, which I carried away with me.