“You see, how kind we are,” some of the soldiers said. “We are having the committee present at your execution.”
Not one of us answered.
“We have all been to see Sablin, the Commander-in-Chief,” Petrukhin announced as soon as he approached near enough to Pugatchov. “He said that Botchkareva would have to be shot, but not necessarily now and with this group.”
A ray of hope was kindled in my soul.
“Nothing of the sort!” Pugatchov bawled angrily. “What’s the matter here? Why this delay? The list is already made up.”
The soldiers supported Pugatchov.
“Shoot her! Finish her now! What’s the use of bothering with her again!” cried the men.
But just as Pugatchov guessed that Petrukhin had obtained the delay in the hope of saving me, so the latter had realized that spoken words would not be sufficient to secure the fulfilment of his order. He had provided himself with a note from Sablin.
“Here is an order from the Commander-in-Chief,” Petrukhin declared, pulling out a paper. “It says that Botchkareva shall be taken to my compartment in the railway carriage and kept there under guard.”
Pugatchov jumped up as if he had been stung. But the committee now rallied to the support of Petrukhin, maintaining that orders were orders, and that I should be executed later.