They were, in fact, entering. A strange odor of skins and acid met their nostrils at once. That was the odor of morocco, at the manufacture of which all the inhabitants of Mohiloff worked somewhat, but especially the Armenians. As Azya had said, the place was different altogether from others. The houses were built in Asiatic fashion; they had windows covered with thick wooden lattice; in many houses there were no windows on the street, and only in the yards was seen the glitter of fires. The streets were not paved, though there was no lack of stone in the neighborhood. Here and there were buildings of strange form with latticed, transparent walls; those were drying-houses, in which fresh grapes were turned into raisins. The odor of morocco filled the whole place.
Pan Gorzenski, who commanded the infantry, had been informed by the Cheremis of the arrival of the wife of the commandant of Hreptyoff, and rode out on horseback to meet her. He was not young, and he stuttered; he lisped also, for his face had been pierced by a bullet from a long-barrelled janissary gun; therefore when he began to speak (stuttering every moment) of the star “which had risen in the heavens of Mohiloff,” Basia came near bursting into laughter. But he received her in the most hospitable manner known to him. In the “fortalice” a supper was waiting for her, and a supremely comfortable bed on fresh and clean down, which he had taken by a forced loan from the wealthiest Armenians. Pan Gorzenski stuttered, it is true, but during the evening he related at the supper things so curious that it was worth while to listen.
According to him a certain disquieting breeze had begun to blow suddenly and unexpectedly from the steppes. Reports came that a strong chambul of the Crimean horde, stationed with Doroshenko, had moved all at once toward Haysyn and the country above that point; with the chambuls went some thousands of Cossacks. Besides, a number of other alarming reports had come from indefinite places. Pan Gorzenski did not attach great faith to these rumors, however. “For it is winter,” said he; “and since the Lord God has created this earthly circle the Tartars move only in spring; then they form no camp, carry no baggage, take no food for their horses in any place. We all know that war with the Turkish power is held in the leash by frost alone, and that we shall have guests at the first grass; but that there is anything at present I shall never believe.”
Basia waited patiently and long till Pan Gorzenski should finish. He stuttered, meanwhile, and moved his lips continually, as if eating.
“What do you think yourself of the movement of the horde toward Haysyn?” asked she at last.
“I think that their horses have pawed out all the grass from under the snow, and that they wish to make a camp in another place. Besides, it may be that the horde; living near Doroshenko’s men, are quarrelling with them; it has always been so. Though they are allies and are fighting together, only let encampments stand side by side, and they fall to quarrelling at once in the pastures and at the bazaars.”
“That is the case surely,” said Azya.
“And there is another point,” continued Pan Gorzenski; “the reports did not come directly through partisans, but peasants brought them; the Tartars here began to talk without evident reason. Three days ago Pan Yakubovich brought in from the steppes the first informants who confirmed the reports, and all the cavalry marched out immediately.”
“Then you are here with infantry only?” inquired Azya.
“God pity us!—forty men! There is hardly any one to guard the fortalice; and if the Tartars living here in Mohiloff were to rise, I know not how I could defend myself.”