St. John's Eve (Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka) by Nikolai Gogol, Full Text English Version, English Translation. Nikolai Gogol, Saint John's Eve (Russian: Вечер накануне Ивана Купала)

Nikolai Wassiljewitsch Gogol (Никола́й Васи́льевич Го́голь), a portrait by Alexander Andrejewitsch Iwanow (Александр Андреевич Иванов)

"St. John's Eve" (Russian: Вечер накануне Ивана Купала) is the second tale in the collection "Evenings on a Farm Near Dikanka," by Nikolai Gogol, first published in 1830 in the literary Russian periodical Otechestvennye Zapiski.

ST. JOHN'S EVE

A STORY TOLD BY THE SACRISTAN OF THE DIKANKA CHURCH

Thoma Grigroovitch had one very strange eccentricity: to the day of
his death he never liked to tell the same thing twice. There were times
when, if you asked him to relate a thing afresh, he would interpolate
new matter, or alter it so that it was impossible to recognise it. Once
upon a time, one of those gentlemen who, like the usurers at our yearly
fairs, clutch and beg and steal every sort of frippery, and issue mean
little volumes, no thicker than an A B C book, every month, or even
every week, wormed this same story out of Thoma Grigorovitch, and the
latter completely forgot about it. But that same young gentleman, in the
pea-green caftan, came from Poltava, bringing with him a little book,
and, opening it in the middle, showed it to us. Thoma Grigorovitch
was on the point of setting his spectacles astride of his nose, but
recollected that he had forgotten to wind thread about them and stick
them together with wax, so he passed it over to me. As I understand
nothing about reading and writing, and do not wear spectacles, I
undertook to read it. I had not turned two leaves when all at once he
caught me by the hand and stopped me.

"Stop! tell me first what you are reading."

I confess that I was a trifle stunned by such a question.

"What! what am I reading, Thoma Grigorovitch? Why, your own words."

"Who told you that they were my words?"

"Why, what more would you have? Here it is printed: 'Related by such and
such a sacristan.'"

"Spit on the head of the man who printed that! he lies, the dog of a
Moscow pedlar! Did I say that? ''Twas just the same as though one hadn't
his wits about him!' Listen. I'll tell the tale to you on the spot."

We moved up to the table, and he began.


*****


My grandfather (the kingdom of heaven be his! may he eat only wheaten
rolls and poppy-seed cakes with honey in the other world!) could tell a
story wonderfully well. When he used to begin a tale you could not
stir from the spot all day, but kept on listening. He was not like the
story-teller of the present day, when he begins to lie, with a tongue as
though he had had nothing to eat for three days, so that you snatch your
cap and flee from the house. I remember my old mother was alive then,
and in the long winter evenings when the frost was crackling out of
doors, and had sealed up hermetically the narrow panes of our cottage,
she used to sit at her wheel, drawing out a long thread in her hand,
rocking the cradle with her foot, and humming a song, which I seem to
hear even now.

The lamp, quivering and flaring up as though in fear of something,
lighted up our cottage; the spindle hummed; and all of us children,
collected in a cluster, listened to grandfather, who had not crawled
off the stove for more than five years, owing to his great age. But the
wondrous tales of the incursions of the Zaporozhian Cossacks and the
Poles, the bold deeds of Podkova, of Poltar-Kozhukh, and Sagaidatchnii,
did not interest us so much as the stories about some deed of old which
always sent a shiver through our frames and made our hair rise upright
on our heads. Sometimes such terror took possession of us in consequence
of them, that, from that evening forward, Heaven knows how wonderful
everything seemed to us. If one chanced to go out of the cottage after
nightfall for anything, one fancied that a visitor from the other world
had lain down to sleep in one's bed; and I have often taken my own
smock, at a distance, as it lay at the head of the bed, for the Evil One
rolled up into a ball! But the chief thing about grandfather's stories
was, that he never lied in all his life; and whatever he said was so,
was so.

I will now tell you one of his wonderful tales. I know that there are a
great many wise people who copy in the courts, and can even read
civil documents, but who, if you were to put into their hand a simple
prayer-book, could not make out the first letter in it, and would show
all their teeth in derision. These people laugh at everything you tell
them. Along comes one of them--and doesn't believe in witches! Yes,
glory to God that I have lived so long in the world! I have seen
heretics to whom it would be easier to lie in confession than it would
be to our brothers and equals to take snuff, and these folk would deny
the existence of witches! But let them just dream about something, and
they won't even tell what it was! There, it is no use talking about
them!

No one could have recognised the village of ours a little over a hundred
years ago; it was a hamlet, the poorest kind of a hamlet. Half a score
of miserable farmhouses, unplastered and badly thatched, were scattered
here and there about the fields. There was not a yard or a decent shed
to shelter animals or waggons. That was the way the wealthy lived:
and if you had looked for our brothers, the poor--why, a hole in the
ground--that was a cabin for you! Only by the smoke could you tell that
a God-created man lived there. You ask why they lived so? It was not
entirely through poverty: almost every one led a raiding Cossack life,
and gathered not a little plunder in foreign lands; it was rather
because it was little use building up a good wooden house. Many
folk were engaged in raids all over the country--Crimeans, Poles,
Lithuanians! It was quite possible that their own countrymen might make
a descent and plunder everything. Anything was possible.

In this hamlet a man, or rather a devil in human form, often made his
appearance. Why he came, and whence, no one knew. He prowled about, got
drunk, and suddenly disappeared as if into the air, leaving no trace
of his existence. Then, behold, he seemed to have dropped from the sky
again, and went flying about the street of the village, of which no
trace now remains, and which was not more than a hundred paces from
Dikanka. He would collect together all the Cossacks he met; then
there were songs, laughter, and cash in plenty, and vodka flowed like
water.... He would address the pretty girls, and give them ribbons,
earrings, strings of beads--more than they knew what to do with. It
is true that the pretty girls rather hesitated about accepting his
presents: God knows, perhaps, what unclean hands they had passed
through. My grandfather's aunt, who kept at that time a tavern, in which
Basavriuk (as they called this devil-man) often caroused, said that no
consideration on the earth would have induced her to accept a gift from
him. But then, again, how avoid accepting? Fear seized on every one when
he knit his shaggy brows, and gave a sidelong glance which might send
your feet God knows whither: whilst if you did accept, then the next
night some fiend from the swamp, with horns on his head, came and began
to squeeze your neck, if there was a string of beads upon it; or bite
your finger, if there was a ring upon it; or drag you by the hair, if
ribbons were braided in it. God have mercy, then, on those who held
such gifts! But here was the difficulty: it was impossible to get rid of
them; if you threw them into the water, the diabolical ring or necklace
would skim along the surface and into your hand.

There was a church in the village--St. Pantelei, if I remember rightly.
There lived there a priest, Father Athanasii of blessed memory.
Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even at Easter, he
determined to reprove him and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardly
escaped with his life. "Hark ye, sir!" he thundered in reply, "learn
to mind your own business instead of meddling in other people's, if you
don't want that throat of yours stuck with boiling kutya (1)." What was
to be done with this unrepentant man? Father Athanasii contented
himself with announcing that any one who should make the acquaintance
of Basavriuk would be counted a Catholic, an enemy of Christ's orthodox
church, not a member of the human race.

Taras Bulba and Other Tales, by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol, Taras Bulba and Other Tales, Full Text, Никола́й Васи́льевич Го́голь (Nikolay Vasilyevich Gogol)

TARAS BULBA

1952 Russian postage stamp depicting Nikolai Gogol and his character Taras Bulba issued on the 100th anniversary of Nikolai Gogol's death

CHAPTER I

"Turn round, my boy! How ridiculous you look! What sort of a priest's

cassock have you got on? Does everybody at the academy dress like that?"
With such words did old Bulba greet his two sons, who had been absent

home to their father.
for their education at the Royal Seminary of Kief, and had now returned


released from the seminary. Their firm healthy faces were covered with
His sons had but just dismounted from their horses. They were a couple
of stout lads who still looked bashful, as became youths recently

They were greatly discomfited by such a reception from their father, and
the first down of manhood, down which had, as yet, never known a razor.
stood motionless with eyes fixed upon the ground.

"Stand still, stand still! let me have a good look at you," he

run, one of you! I want to see whether you will not get entangled in the
continued, turning them around. "How long your gaberdines are! What
gaberdines! There never were such gaberdines in the world before. Just
skirts, and fall down."

"Don't laugh, don't laugh, father!" said the eldest lad at length.


"Yes, even my father. I don't stop to consider persons when an insult is
"How touchy we are! Why shouldn't I laugh?"

"Because, although you are my father, if you laugh, by heavens, I will
strike you!"

"What kind of son are you? what, strike your father!" exclaimed Taras
Bulba, retreating several paces in amazement.

in question."


separation, began to deal each other heavy blows on ribs, back, and
"So you want to fight me? with your fist, eh?"

"Any way."

"Well, let it be fisticuffs," said Taras Bulba, turning up his sleeves.
"I'll see what sort of a man you are with your fists."

And father and son, in lieu of a pleasant greeting after long

children. "The children have come home, we have not seen them for over a
chest, now retreating and looking at each other, now attacking afresh.

"Look, good people! the old man has gone man! he has lost his senses
completely!" screamed their pale, ugly, kindly mother, who was standing
on the threshold, and had not yet succeeded in embracing her darling

embrace me," and father and son began to kiss each other. "Good lad! see
year; and now he has taken some strange freak--he's pommelling them."

"Yes, he fights well," said Bulba, pausing; "well, by heavens!" he
continued, rather as if excusing himself, "although he has never tried
his hand at it before, he will make a good Cossack! Now, welcome, son!
that you hit every one as you pommelled me; don't let any one escape.

embrace her youngest. "Who ever heard of children fighting their own
Nevertheless your clothes are ridiculous all the same. What rope is this
hanging there?--And you, you lout, why are you standing there with your
hands hanging beside you?" he added, turning to the youngest. "Why don't
you fight me? you son of a dog!"

"What an idea!" said the mother, who had managed in the meantime to
father? That's enough for the present; the child is young, he has had

you see this sword? that's your mother! All the rest people stuff your
a long journey, he is tired." The child was over twenty, and about six
feet high. "He ought to rest, and eat something; and you set him to
fighting!"

"You are a gabbler!" said Bulba. "Don't listen to your mother, my lad;
she is a woman, and knows nothing. What sort of petting do you need? A
clear field and a good horse, that's the kind of petting for you! And do
heads with is rubbish; the academy, books, primers, philosophy, and all

sadly and with tears in her eyes. "The poor boys will have no chance of
that, I spit upon it all!" Here Bulba added a word which is not used in
print. "But I'll tell you what is best: I'll take you to Zaporozhe
(1) this very week. That's where there's science for you! There's your
school; there alone will you gain sense."

 (1) The Cossack country beyond (za) the falls (porozhe) of the
    Dnieper.

"And are they only to remain home a week?" said the worn old mother
looking around, no chance of getting acquainted with the home where they

possible, not with raisins and all sorts of stuff, but plain scorching
were born; there will be no chance for me to get a look at them."

"Enough, you've howled quite enough, old woman! A Cossack is not born
to run around after women. You would like to hide them both under your
petticoat, and sit upon them as a hen sits on eggs. Go, go, and let
us have everything there is on the table in a trice. We don't want any
dumplings, honey-cakes, poppy-cakes, or any other such messes: give us
a whole sheep, a goat, mead forty years old, and as much corn-brandy as
corn-brandy, which foams and hisses like mad."


fashion of that period--a fashion concerning which hints linger only in
Bulba led his sons into the principal room of the hut; and two pretty
servant girls wearing coin necklaces, who were arranging the apartment,
ran out quickly. They were either frightened at the arrival of the young
men, who did not care to be familiar with anyone; or else they merely
wanted to keep up their feminine custom of screaming and rushing away
headlong at the sight of a man, and then screening their blushes for
some time with their sleeves. The hut was furnished according to the
the songs and lyrics, no longer sung, alas! in the Ukraine as of yore by

moveable one. Around the windows and doors red bands were painted. On
blind old men, to the soft tinkling of the native guitar, to the
people thronging round them--according to the taste of that warlike and
troublous time, of leagues and battles prevailing in the Ukraine after
the union. Everything was cleanly smeared with coloured clay. On the
walls hung sabres, hunting-whips, nets for birds, fishing-nets,
guns, elaborately carved powder-horns, gilded bits for horses, and
tether-ropes with silver plates. The small window had round dull
panes, through which it was impossible to see except by opening the one
shelves in one corner stood jugs, bottles, and flasks of green and

horseback. The only distinctive things permitted them were long locks of
blue glass, carved silver cups, and gilded drinking vessels of various
makes--Venetian, Turkish, Tscherkessian, which had reached Bulba's cabin
by various roads, at third and fourth hand, a thing common enough in
those bold days. There were birch-wood benches all around the room,
a huge table under the holy pictures in one corner, and a huge stove
covered with particoloured patterns in relief, with spaces between it
and the wall. All this was quite familiar to the two young men, who
were wont to come home every year during the dog-days, since they had
no horses, and it was not customary to allow students to ride afield on

Bulba and the young men, telling them they would do well and that there
hair on the temples, which every Cossack who bore weapons was entitled
to pull. It was only at the end of their course of study that Bulba had
sent them a couple of young stallions from his stud.

Bulba, on the occasion of his sons' arrival, ordered all the sotniks or
captains of hundreds, and all the officers of the band who were of any
consequence, to be summoned; and when two of them arrived with his
old comrade, the Osaul or sub-chief, Dmitro Tovkatch, he immediately
presented the lads, saying, "See what fine young fellows they are! I
shall send them to the Setch (2) shortly." The guests congratulated
was no better knowledge for a young man than a knowledge of that same

was such a thing in the world as corn-brandy. What was the name of the
Zaporozhian Setch.

 (2) The village or, rather, permanent camp of the Zaporozhian
    Cossacks.

"Come, brothers, seat yourselves, each where he likes best, at the
table; come, my sons. First of all, let's take some corn-brandy," said
Bulba. "God bless you! Welcome, lads; you, Ostap, and you, Andrii. God
grant that you may always be successful in war, that you may beat
the Musselmans and the Turks and the Tatars; and that when the Poles
undertake any expedition against our faith, you may beat the Poles.
Come, clink your glasses. How now? Is the brandy good? What's
corn-brandy in Latin? The Latins were stupid: they did not know there

"Let them try it know," said Andrii. "Let anybody just touch me, let any
man who wrote Latin verses? I don't know much about reading and writing,
so I don't quite know. Wasn't it Horace?"

"What a dad!" thought the elder son Ostap. "The old dog knows
everything, but he always pretends the contrary."

"I don't believe the archimandrite allowed you so much as a smell of
corn-brandy," continued Taras. "Confess, my boys, they thrashed you well
with fresh birch-twigs on your backs and all over your Cossack bodies;
and perhaps, when you grew too sharp, they beat you with whips. And not
on Saturday only, I fancy, but on Wednesday and Thursday."

"What is past, father, need not be recalled; it is done with."

Tatar risk it now, and he'll soon learn what a Cossack's sword is like!"


all these things? What are pots and pans to us?" So saying, he began to
"Good, my son, by heavens, good! And when it comes to that, I'll go with
you; by heavens, I'll go too! What should I wait here for? To become a
buckwheat-reaper and housekeeper, to look after the sheep and swine, and
loaf around with my wife? Away with such nonsense! I am a Cossack; I'll
have none of it! What's left but war? I'll go with you to Zaporozhe to
carouse; I'll go, by heavens!" And old Bulba, growing warm by degrees
and finally quite angry, rose from the table, and, assuming a dignified
attitude, stamped his foot. "We will go to-morrow! Wherefore delay? What
enemy can we besiege here? What is this hut to us? What do we want with
knock over the pots and flasks, and to throw them about.

The poor old woman, well used to such freaks on the part of her husband,

and home grew brave there; when, amid conflagrations, threatening
looked sadly on from her seat on the wall-bench. She did not dare say a
word; but when she heard the decision which was so terrible for her, she
could not refrain from tears. As she looked at her children, from whom
so speedy a separation was threatened, it is impossible to describe the
full force of her speechless grief, which seemed to quiver in her eyes
and on her lips convulsively pressed together.

Bulba was terribly headstrong. He was one of those characters which
could only exist in that fierce fifteenth century, and in that
half-nomadic corner of Europe, when the whole of Southern Russia,
deserted by its princes, was laid waste and burned to the quick by
pitiless troops of Mongolian robbers; when men deprived of house
neighbours, and eternal terrors, they settled down, and growing

and bartering petty princes ruling in their cities, there arose great
accustomed to looking these things straight in the face, trained
themselves not to know that there was such a thing as fear in the world;
when the old, peacable Slav spirit was fired with warlike flame, and
the Cossack state was instituted--a free, wild outbreak of Russian
nature--and when all the river-banks, fords, and like suitable places
were peopled by Cossacks, whose number no man knew. Their bold comrades
had a right to reply to the Sultan when he asked how many they were,
"Who knows? We are scattered all over the steppes; wherever there is a
hillock, there is a Cossack."

It was, in fact, a most remarkable exhibition of Russian strength,
forced by dire necessity from the bosom of the people. In place of the
original provinces with their petty towns, in place of the warring
colonies, kurens (3), and districts, bound together by one common danger

horseback, fully armed, receiving only one ducat from the king; and in
and hatred against the heathen robbers. The story is well known how
their incessant warfare and restless existence saved Europe from the
merciless hordes which threatened to overwhelm her. The Polish kings,
who now found themselves sovereigns, in place of the provincial princes,
over these extensive tracts of territory, fully understood, despite the
weakness and remoteness of their own rule, the value of the Cossacks,
and the advantages of the warlike, untrammelled life led by them. They
encouraged them and flattered this disposition of mind. Under their
distant rule, the hetmans or chiefs, chosen from among the Cossacks
themselves, redistributed the territory into military districts. It
was not a standing army, no one saw it; but in case of war and general
uprising, it required a week, and no more, for every man to appear on
two weeks such a force had assembled as no recruiting officers would

voice, as he stood in his waggon, "Hey, you distillers and beer-brewers!
ever have been able to collect. When the expedition was ended, the army
dispersed among the fields and meadows and the fords of the Dnieper;
each man fished, wrought at his trade, brewed his beer, and was once
more a free Cossack. Their foreign contemporaries rightly marvelled at
their wonderful qualities. There was no handicraft which the Cossack was
not expert at: he could distil brandy, build a waggon, make powder,
and do blacksmith's and gunsmith's work, in addition to committing wild
excesses, drinking and carousing as only a Russian can--all this he was
equal to. Besides the registered Cossacks, who considered themselves
bound to appear in arms in time of war, it was possible to collect at
any time, in case of dire need, a whole army of volunteers. All that was
required was for the Osaul or sub-chief to traverse the market-places
and squares of the villages and hamlets, and shout at the top of his

for warlike emotions, and was distinguished for his uprightness of
you have brewed enough beer, and lolled on your stoves, and stuffed
your fat carcasses with flour, long enough! Rise, win glory and warlike
honours! You ploughmen, you reapers of buckwheat, you tenders of sheep,
you danglers after women, enough of following the plough, and soiling
your yellow shoes in the earth, and courting women, and wasting your
warlike strength! The hour has come to win glory for the Cossacks!"
These words were like sparks falling on dry wood. The husbandman broke
his plough; the brewers and distillers threw away their casks and
destroyed their barrels; the mechanics and merchants sent their trade
and their shop to the devil, broke pots and everything else in their
homes, and mounted their horses. In short, the Russian character here
received a profound development, and manifested a powerful outwards
expression.

 (3) Cossack villages. In the Setch, a large wooden barrack.

Taras was one of the band of old-fashioned leaders; he was born

the customs of his ancestors; and, finally, when the enemy were
character. At that epoch the influence of Poland had already begun to
make itself felt upon the Russian nobility. Many had adopted Polish
customs, and began to display luxury in splendid staffs of servants,
hawks, huntsmen, dinners, and palaces. This was not to Taras's taste. He
liked the simple life of the Cossacks, and quarrelled with those of his
comrades who were inclined to the Warsaw party, calling them serfs of
the Polish nobles. Ever on the alert, he regarded himself as the legal
protector of the orthodox faith. He entered despotically into any
village where there was a general complaint of oppression by the revenue
farmers and of the addition of fresh taxes on necessaries. He and his
Cossacks executed justice, and made it a rule that in three cases it
was absolutely necessary to resort to the sword. Namely, when the
commissioners did not respect the superior officers and stood before
them covered; when any one made light of the faith and did not observe

the morrow. He delegated his power to Osaul Tovkatch, and gave with it
Mussulmans or Turks, against whom he considered it permissible, in every
case, to draw the sword for the glory of Christianity.

Now he rejoiced beforehand at the thought of how he would present
himself with his two sons at the Setch, and say, "See what fine young
fellows I have brought you!" how he would introduce them to all his old
comrades, steeled in warfare; how he would observe their first exploits
in the sciences of war and of drinking, which was also regarded as one
of the principal warlike qualities. At first he had intended to send
them forth alone; but at the sight of their freshness, stature, and
manly personal beauty his martial spirit flamed up and he resolved to go
with them himself the very next day, although there was no necessity for
this except his obstinate self-will. He began at once to hurry about and
give orders; selected horses and trappings for his sons, looked through
the stables and storehouses, and chose servants to accompany them on
a strict command to appear with his whole force at the Setch the very

beloved sons, as they lay side by side; she smoothed with a comb their
instant he should receive a message from him. Although he was jolly, and
the effects of his drinking bout still lingered in his brain, he forgot
nothing. He even gave orders that the horses should be watered, their
cribs filled, and that they should be fed with the finest corn; and then
he retired, fatigued with all his labours.

"Now, children, we must sleep, but to-morrow we shall do what God wills.
Don't prepare us a bed: we need no bed; we will sleep in the courtyard."

Night had but just stole over the heavens, but Bulba always went to
bed early. He lay down on a rug and covered himself with a sheepskin
pelisse, for the night air was quite sharp and he liked to lie warm when
he was at home. He was soon snoring, and the whole household speedily
followed his example. All snored and groaned as they lay in different
corners. The watchman went to sleep the first of all, he had drunk so
much in honour of the young masters' home-coming.

The mother alone did not sleep. She bent over the pillow of her
carelessly tangled locks, and moistened them with her tears. She gazed

youth flitted by; her ripe cheeks and bosom withered away unkissed and
at them with her whole soul, with every sense; she was wholly merged in
the gaze, and yet she could not gaze enough. She had fed them at her
own breast, she had tended them and brought them up; and now to see them
only for an instant! "My sons, my darling sons! what will become of you!
what fate awaits you?" she said, and tears stood in the wrinkles which
disfigured her once beautiful face. In truth, she was to be pitied, as
was every woman of that period. She had lived only for a moment of love,
only during the first ardour of passion, only during the first flush of
youth; and then her grim betrayer had deserted her for the sword, for
his comrades and his carouses. She saw her husband two or three days in
a year, and then, for several years, heard nothing of him. And when
she did see him, when they did live together, what a life was hers! She
endured insult, even blows; she felt caresses bestowed only in pity;
she was a misplaced object in that community of unmarried warriors, upon
which wandering Zaporozhe cast a colouring of its own. Her pleasureless
became covered with premature wrinkles. Love, feeling, everything that

dawn, had ceased eating and lain down upon the grass; the topmost leaves
is tender and passionate in a woman, was converted in her into maternal
love. She hovered around her children with anxiety, passion, tears, like
the gull of the steppes. They were taking her sons, her darling sons,
from her--taking them from her, so that she should never see them again!
Who knew? Perhaps a Tatar would cut off their heads in the very first
skirmish, and she would never know where their deserted bodies might
lie, torn by birds of prey; and yet for each single drop of their blood
she would have given all hers. Sobbing, she gazed into their eyes, and
thought, "Perhaps Bulba, when he wakes, will put off their departure for
a day or two; perhaps it occurred to him to go so soon because he had
been drinking."

The moon from the summit of the heavens had long since lit up the whole
courtyard filled with sleepers, the thick clump of willows, and the tall
steppe-grass, which hid the palisade surrounding the court. She still
sat at her sons' pillow, never removing her eyes from them for a moment,
nor thinking of sleep. Already the horses, divining the approach of
of the willows began to rustle softly, and little by little the

sashes into which were thrust engraved Turkish pistols; their swords
rippling rustle descended to their bases. She sat there until daylight,
unwearied, and wishing in her heart that the night might prolong itself
indefinitely. From the steppes came the ringing neigh of the horses, and
red streaks shone brightly in the sky. Bulba suddenly awoke, and sprang
to his feet. He remembered quite well what he had ordered the night
before. "Now, my men, you've slept enough! 'tis time, 'tis time! Water
the horses! And where is the old woman?" He generally called his wife
so. "Be quick, old woman, get us something to eat; the way is long."

The poor old woman, deprived of her last hope, slipped sadly into the
hut.

Whilst she, with tears, prepared what was needed for breakfast, Bulba
gave his orders, went to the stable, and selected his best trappings for
his children with his own hand.

The scholars were suddenly transformed. Red morocco boots with silver
heels took the place of their dirty old ones; trousers wide as the Black
Sea, with countless folds and plaits, were kept up by golden girdles
from which hung long slender thongs, with tassles and other tinkling
things, for pipes. Their jackets of scarlet cloth were girt by flowered


clanked at their heels. Their faces, already a little sunburnt, seemed
to have grown handsomer and whiter; their slight black moustaches now
cast a more distinct shadow on this pallor and set off their healthy
youthful complexions. They looked very handsome in their black sheepskin
caps, with cloth-of-gold crowns.

When their poor mother saw them, she could not utter a word, and tears
stood in her eyes.

"Now, my lads, all is ready; no delay!" said Bulba at last. "But we must
first all sit down together, in accordance with Christian custom before
a journey."

All sat down, not excepting the servants, who had been standing
respectfully at the door.

"Now, mother, bless your children," said Bulba. "Pray God that they may
fight bravely, always defend their warlike honour, always defend the
faith of Christ; and, if not, that they may die, so that their breath
may not be longer in the world."

"Come to your mother, children; a mother's prayer protects on land and
sea."



The mother, weak as mothers are, embraced them, drew out two small

holy pictures, and hung them, sobbing, around their necks. "May God's

mother--keep you! Children, do not forget your mother--send some little
word of yourselves--" She could say no more.


At the door stood the horses, ready saddled. Bulba sprang upon his
"Now, children, let us go," said Bulba.


thirty stone, for Taras was extremely stout and heavy.
"Devil," which bounded wildly, on feeling on his back a load of over


the younger, whose features expressed somewhat more gentleness than
When the mother saw that her sons were also mounted, she rushed towards

with despair in her eyes, refused to loose her hold. Two stout Cossacks
those of his brother. She grasped his stirrup, clung to his saddle, and
seized her carefully, and bore her back into the hut. But before the

horse with irresistible strength, and embraced one of her sons with mad,
cavalcade had passed out of the courtyard, she rushed with the speed of
a wild goat, disproportionate to her years, to the gate, stopped a
unconscious violence. Then they led her away again.


not to show it. The morning was grey, the green sward bright, the birds
The young Cossacks rode on sadly, repressing their tears out of fear of
their father, who, on his side, was somewhat moved, although he strove
twittered rather discordantly. They glanced back as they rode. Their

Before them still stretched the field by which they could recall the
paternal farm seemed to have sunk into the earth. All that was visible
above the surface were the two chimneys of their modest hut and the tops
of the trees up whose trunks they had been used to climb like squirrels.

solitary against the sky; already the level which they have traversed
whole story of their lives, from the years when they rolled in its dewy
grass down to the years when they awaited in it the dark-browed Cossack
maiden, running timidly across it on quick young feet. There is the
pole above the well, with the waggon wheel fastened to its top, rising

which the Cossack always weeps, wishing that his life might be all
appears a hill in the distance, and now all has disappeared. Farewell,
childhood, games, all, all, farewell!



CHAPTER II

All three horsemen rode in silence. Old Taras's thoughts were far away:
before him passed his youth, his years--the swift-flying years, over
youth. He wondered whom of his former comrades he should meet at the

give their children an education, although it was afterwards utterly
Setch. He reckoned up how many had already died, how many were still
alive. Tears formed slowly in his eyes, and his grey head bent sadly.

His sons were occupied with other thoughts. But we must speak further of
his sons. They had been sent, when twelve years old, to the academy at
Kief, because all leaders of that day considered it indispensable to

set him down to his books. Four times did he bury his primer in the
forgotten. Like all who entered the academy, they were wild, having been
brought up in unrestrained freedom; and whilst there they had acquired
some polish, and pursued some common branches of knowledge which gave
them a certain resemblance to each other.

The elder, Ostap, began his scholastic career by running away in the
course of the first year. They brought him back, whipped him well, and

who said this was that very Taras Bulba who condemned all learning, and
earth; and four times, after giving him a sound thrashing, did they buy
him a new one. But he would no doubt have repeated this feat for the
fifth time, had not his father given him a solemn assurance that he
would keep him at monastic work for twenty years, and sworn in advance
that he should never behold Zaporozhe all his life long, unless he
learned all the sciences taught in the academy. It was odd that the man

having any connection with, and never being encountered in, actual life.
counselled his children, as we have seen, not to trouble themselves at
all about it. From that moment, Ostap began to pore over his tiresome
books with exemplary diligence, and quickly stood on a level with the
best. The style of education in that age differed widely from the manner
of life. The scholastic, grammatical, rhetorical, and logical subtle
ties in vogue were decidedly out of consonance with the times, never

requirements arising in fresh, strong, healthy youth, combined to arouse
Those who studied them, even the least scholastic, could not apply their
knowledge to anything whatever. The learned men of those days were
even more incapable than the rest, because farther removed from all
experience. Moreover, the republican constitution of the academy,
the fearful multitude of young, healthy, strong fellows, inspired the
students with an activity quite outside the limits of their learning.
Poor fare, or frequent punishments of fasting, with the numerous

look after the comrades entrusted to his care, had such frightfully wide
in them that spirit of enterprise which was afterwards further developed
among the Zaporozhians. The hungry student running about the streets of
Kief forced every one to be on his guard. Dealers sitting in the bazaar
covered their pies, their cakes, and their pumpkin-rolls with their
hands, like eagles protecting their young, if they but caught sight of
a passing student. The consul or monitor, who was bound by his duty to
pockets to his trousers that he could stow away the whole contents

lictors sometimes, by their orders, lashed their consuls so severely
of the gaping dealer's stall in them. These students constituted an
entirely separate world, for they were not admitted to the higher
circles, composed of Polish and Russian nobles. Even the Waiwode, Adam
Kisel, in spite of the patronage he bestowed upon the academy, did not
seek to introduce them into society, and ordered them to be kept more
strictly in supervision. This command was quite superfluous, for neither
the rector nor the monkish professors spared rod or whip; and the
that the latter rubbed their trousers for weeks afterwards. This was to

He rarely led others into such hazardous enterprises as robbing a
many of them a trifle, only a little more stinging than good vodka with
pepper: others at length grew tired of such constant blisters, and ran
away to Zaporozhe if they could find the road and were not caught on the
way. Ostap Bulba, although he began to study logic, and even theology,
with much zeal, did not escape the merciless rod. Naturally, all
this tended to harden his character, and give him that firmness which
distinguishes the Cossacks. He always held himself aloof from his
comrades.

strange garden or orchard; but, on the other hand, he was always among

His younger brother, Andrii, had livelier and more fully developed
the first to join the standard of an adventurous student. And
never, under any circumstances, did he betray his comrades; neither
imprisonment nor beatings could make him do so. He was unassailable by
any temptations save those of war and revelry; at least, he scarcely
ever dreamt of others. He was upright with his equals. He was
kind-hearted, after the only fashion that kind-heartedness could exist
in such a character and at such a time. He was touched to his very heart
by his poor mother's tears; but this only vexed him, and caused him to
hang his head in thought.


him. When he had passed his eighteenth year, woman began to present
feelings. He learned more willingly and without the effort with which
strong and weighty characters generally have to make in order to apply
themselves to study. He was more inventive-minded than his brother, and
frequently appeared as the leader of dangerous expeditions; sometimes,
thanks to the quickness of his mind, contriving to escape punishment
when his brother Ostap, abandoning all efforts, stripped off his
gaberdine and lay down upon the floor without a thought of begging for
mercy. He too thirsted for action; but, at the same time, his soul was
accessible to other sentiments. The need of love burned ardently within

but had roamed more frequently alone, in remote corners of Kief, among
herself more frequently in his dreams; listening to philosophical
discussions, he still beheld her, fresh, black-eyed, tender; before him
constantly flitted her elastic bosom, her soft, bare arms; the very gown
which clung about her youthful yet well-rounded limbs breathed into his
visions a certain inexpressible sensuousness. He carefully concealed
this impulse of his passionate young soul from his comrades, because in
that age it was held shameful and dishonourable for a Cossack to think
of love and a wife before he had tasted battle. On the whole, during the
last year, he had acted more rarely as leader to the bands of students,

his horses; they sprang forward, and Andrii, succeeding happily in
low-roofed houses, buried in cherry orchards, peeping alluringly at the
street. Sometimes he betook himself to the more aristocratic streets,
in the old Kief of to-day, where dwelt Little Russian and Polish nobles,
and where houses were built in more fanciful style. Once, as he was
gaping along, an old-fashioned carriage belonging to some Polish noble
almost drove over him; and the heavily moustached coachman, who sat on
the box, gave him a smart cut with his whip. The young student fired up;
with thoughtless daring he seized the hind-wheel with his powerful hands
and stopped the carriage. But the coachman, fearing a drubbing, lashed
freeing his hands, was flung full length on the ground with his face

and deigned him no reply. At length he learned that she was the daughter
flat in the mud. The most ringing and harmonious of laughs resounded
above him. He raised his eyes and saw, standing at a window, a beauty
such as he had never beheld in all his life, black-eyed, and with
skin white as snow illumined by the dawning flush of the sun. She was
laughing heartily, and her laugh enhanced her dazzling loveliness. Taken
aback he gazed at her in confusion, abstractedly wiping the mud from
his face, by which means it became still further smeared. Who could
this beauty be? He sought to find out from the servants, who, in
rich liveries, stood at the gate in a crowd surrounding a young
guitar-player; but they only laughed when they saw his besmeared face
of the Waiwode of Koven, who had come thither for a time. The following

Moreover, there was nothing terrible about Andrii's features; he was
night, with the daring characteristic of the student, he crept through
the palings into the garden and climbed a tree which spread its branches
upon the very roof of the house. From the tree he gained the roof, and
made his way down the chimney straight into the bedroom of the beauty,
who at that moment was seated before a lamp, engaged in removing the
costly earrings from her ears. The beautiful Pole was so alarmed on
suddenly beholding an unknown man that she could not utter a single
word; but when she perceived that the student stood before her with
downcast eyes, not daring to move a hand through timidity, when she
recognised in him the one who had fallen in the street, laughter again
overpowered her.

very handsome. She laughed heartily, and amused herself over him for

called her maid, a Tatar prisoner, and gave her orders to conduct him to
a long time. The lady was giddy, like all Poles; but her eyes--her
wondrous clear, piercing eyes--shot one glance, a long glance. The
student could not move hand or foot, but stood bound as in a sack, when
the Waiwode's daughter approached him boldly, placed upon his head her
glittering diadem, hung her earrings on his lips, and flung over him
a transparent muslin chemisette with gold-embroidered garlands. She
adorned him, and played a thousand foolish pranks, with the childish
carelessness which distinguishes the giddy Poles, and which threw the
poor student into still greater confusion.

He cut a ridiculous feature, gazing immovably, and with open mouth, into
her dazzling eyes. A knock at the door startled her. She ordered him
to hide himself under the bed, and, as soon as the disturber was gone,

green embrace; and the high grass, closing round, concealed them, till
the garden with caution, and thence show him through the fence. But our
student this time did not pass the fence so successfully. The watchman
awoke, and caught him firmly by the foot; and the servants, assembling,
beat him in the street, until his swift legs rescued him. After that
it became very dangerous to pass the house, for the Waiwode's domestics
were numerous. He met her once again at church. She saw him, and smiled
pleasantly, as at an old acquaintance. He saw her once more, by chance;
but shortly afterwards the Waiwode departed, and, instead of the
beautiful black-eyed Pole, some fat face or other gazed from the window.
This was what Andrii was thinking about, as he hung his head and kept
his eyes on his horse's mane.

In the meantime the steppe had long since received them all into its
only their black Cossack caps appeared above it.


even as far as the Black Sea, was a green, virgin wilderness. No plough
"Eh, eh, why are you so quiet, lads?" said Bulba at length, waking from
his own reverie. "You're like monks. Now, all thinking to the Evil One,
once for all! Take your pipes in your teeth, and let us smoke, and spur
on our horses so swiftly that no bird can overtake us."

And the Cossacks, bending low on their horses' necks, disappeared in the
grass. Their black caps were no longer to be seen; a streak of trodden
grass alone showed the trace of their swift flight.

The sun had long since looked forth from the clear heavens and inundated
the steppe with his quickening, warming light. All that was dim and
drowsy in the Cossacks' minds flew away in a twinkling: their hearts
fluttered like birds.

The farther they penetrated the steppe, the more beautiful it became.
Then all the South, all that region which now constitutes New Russia,
had ever passed over the immeasurable waves of wild growth; horses

wantonly through blue waves of air. And now she has vanished on high,
alone, hidden in it as in a forest, trod it down. Nothing in nature
could be finer. The whole surface resembled a golden-green ocean, upon
which were sprinkled millions of different flowers. Through the tall,
slender stems of the grass peeped light-blue, dark-blue, and lilac
star-thistles; the yellow broom thrust up its pyramidal head; the
parasol-shaped white flower of the false flax shimmered on high. A
wheat-ear, brought God knows whence, was filling out to ripening.
Amongst the roots of this luxuriant vegetation ran partridges with
outstretched necks. The air was filled with the notes of a thousand
different birds. On high hovered the hawks, their wings outspread, and
their eyes fixed intently on the grass. The cries of a flock of wild
ducks, ascending from one side, were echoed from God knows what distant
lake. From the grass arose, with measured sweep, a gull, and skimmed
and appears only as a black dot: now she has turned her wings, and

in white tufts, light and transparent clouds: and the freshest,
shines in the sunlight. Oh, steppes, how beautiful you are!

Our travellers halted only a few minutes for dinner. Their escort of ten
Cossacks sprang from their horses and undid the wooden casks of brandy,
and the gourds which were used instead of drinking vessels. They ate
only cakes of bread and dripping; they drank but one cup apiece to
strengthen them, for Taras Bulba never permitted intoxication upon the
road, and then continued their journey until evening.

In the evening the whole steppe changed its aspect. All its varied
expanse was bathed in the last bright glow of the sun; and as it grew
dark gradually, it could be seen how the shadow flitted across it and it
became dark green. The mist rose more densely; each flower, each blade
of grass, emitted a fragrance as of ambergris, and the whole steppe
distilled perfume. Broad bands of rosy gold were streaked across the
dark blue heaven, as with a gigantic brush; here and there gleamed,

the grass; their rasping, whistling, and chirping, softened by the fresh
most enchanting of gentle breezes barely stirred the tops of the
grass-blades, like sea-waves, and caressed the cheek. The music which
had resounded through the day had died away, and given place to another.
The striped marmots crept out of their holes, stood erect on their
hind legs, and filled the steppe with their whistle. The whirr of the
grasshoppers had become more distinctly audible. Sometimes the cry of
the swan was heard from some distant lake, ringing through the air like
a silver trumpet. The travellers, halting in the midst of the plain,
selected a spot for their night encampment, made a fire, and hung over
it the kettle in which they cooked their oatmeal; the steam rising and
floating aslant in the air. Having supped, the Cossacks lay down to
sleep, after hobbling their horses and turning them out to graze. They
lay down in their gaberdines. The stars of night gazed directly down
upon them. They could hear the countless myriads of insects which filled

nostrils snuffing the air like a greyhound's, and then disappeared like
air, resounded clearly through the night, and lulled the drowsy ear. If
one of them rose and stood for a time, the steppe presented itself to
him strewn with the sparks of glow-worms. At times the night sky
was illumined in spots by the glare of burning reeds along pools or
river-bank; and dark flights of swans flying to the north were suddenly
lit up by the silvery, rose-coloured gleam, till it seemed as though red
kerchiefs were floating in the dark heavens.

The travellers proceeded onward without any adventure. They came across
no villages. It was ever the same boundless, waving, beautiful steppe.
Only at intervals the summits of distant forests shone blue, on one
hand, stretching along the banks of the Dnieper. Once only did Taras
point out to his sons a small black speck far away amongst the grass,
saying, "Look, children! yonder gallops a Tatar." The little head with
its long moustaches fixed its narrow eyes upon them from afar, its
an antelope on its owner perceiving that the Cossacks were thirteen

from their shores, and its waves have spread widely over the earth,
strong. "And now, children, don't try to overtake the Tatar! You would
never catch him to all eternity; he has a horse swifter than my Devil."
But Bulba took precautions, fearing hidden ambushes. They galloped along
the course of a small stream, called the Tatarka, which falls into the
Dnieper; rode into the water and swam with their horses some distance
in order to conceal their trail. Then, scrambling out on the bank, they
continued their road.

Three days later they were not far from the goal of their journey. The
air suddenly grew colder: they could feel the vicinity of the Dnieper.
And there it gleamed afar, distinguishable on the horizon as a dark
band. It sent forth cold waves, spreading nearer, nearer, and finally
seeming to embrace half the entire surface of the earth. This was that
section of its course where the river, hitherto confined by the rapids,
finally makes its own away and, roaring like the sea, rushes on at will;
where the islands, flung into its midst, have pressed it farther
encountering neither cliffs nor hills. The Cossacks, alighting from

cask. But the first man they encountered was a Zaporozhetz (1) who was
their horses, entered the ferry-boat, and after a three hours' sail
reached the shores of the island of Khortitz, where at that time stood
the Setch, which so often changed its situation.

A throng of people hastened to the shore with boats. The Cossacks
arranged the horses' trappings. Taras assumed a stately air, pulled his
belt tighter, and proudly stroked his moustache. His sons also inspected
themselves from head to foot, with some apprehension and an undefined
feeling of satisfaction; and all set out together for the suburb, which
was half a verst from the Setch. On their arrival, they were deafened by
the clang of fifty blacksmiths' hammers beating upon twenty-five anvils
sunk in the earth. Stout tanners seated beneath awnings were scraping
ox-hides with their strong hands; shop-keepers sat in their booths, with
piles of flints, steels, and powder before them; Armenians spread out
their rich handkerchiefs; Tatars turned their kabobs upon spits; a Jew,
with his head thrust forward, was filtering some corn-brandy from a
sleeping in the very middle of the road with legs and arms outstretched.

betokened a terrible degree of recklessness. Some sturdy Zaporozhtzi
Taras Bulba could not refrain from halting to admire him. "How
splendidly developed he is; phew, what a magnificent figure!" he
said, stopping his horse. It was, in fact, a striking picture. This
Zaporozhetz had stretched himself out in the road like a lion; his
scalp-lock, thrown proudly behind him, extended over upwards of a foot
of ground; his trousers of rich red cloth were spotted with tar, to show
his utter disdain for them. Having admired to his heart's content, Bulba
passed on through the narrow street, crowded with mechanics exercising
their trades, and with people of all nationalities who thronged this
suburb of the Setch, resembling a fair, and fed and clothed the Setch
itself, which knew only how to revel and burn powder.

 (1) Sometimes written Zaporovian.

At length they left the suburb behind them, and perceived some scattered
kurens (2), covered with turf, or in Tatar fashion with felt. Some were
furnished with cannon. Nowhere were any fences visible, or any of those
low-roofed houses with verandahs supported upon low wooden pillars, such
as were seen in the suburb. A low wall and a ditch, totally unguarded,

blackened eye, went on measuring out without stint, to every one who
lying, pipe in mouth, in the very road, glanced indifferently at them,
but never moved from their places. Taras threaded his way carefully
among them, with his sons, saying, "Good-day, gentles."--"Good-day
to you," answered the Zaporozhtzi. Scattered over the plain were
picturesque groups. From their weatherbeaten faces, it was plain that
all were steeled in battle, and had faced every sort of bad weather. And
there it was, the Setch! There was the lair from whence all those men,
proud and strong as lions, issued forth! There was the spot whence
poured forth liberty and Cossacks all over the Ukraine.

 (2) Enormous wooden sheds, each inhabited by a troop or kuren.

The travellers entered the great square where the council generally met.
On a huge overturned cask sat a Zaporozhetz without his shirt; he was
holding it in his hands, and slowly sewing up the holes in it. Again
their way was stopped by a whole crowd of musicians, in the midst of
whom a young Zaporozhetz was dancing, with head thrown back and arms
outstretched. He kept shouting, "Play faster, musicians! Begrudge
not, Thoma, brandy to these orthodox Christians!" And Thoma, with his
presented himself, a huge jugful.


the world has ever seen, still called from its mighty originators, the
About the youthful Zaporozhetz four old men, moving their feet quite
briskly, leaped like a whirlwind to one side, almost upon the musicians'
heads, and, suddenly, retreating, squatted down and drummed the hard
earth vigorously with their silver heels. The earth hummed dully all
about, and afar the air resounded with national dance tunes beaten by
the clanging heels of their boots.

But one shouted more loudly than all the rest, and flew after the others
in the dance. His scalp-lock streamed in the wind, his muscular chest
was bare, his warm, winter fur jacket was hanging by the sleeves, and
the perspiration poured from him as from a pig. "Take off your jacket!"
said Taras at length: "see how he steams!"--"I can't," shouted the
Cossack. "Why?"--"I can't: I have such a disposition that whatever I
take off, I drink up." And indeed, the young fellow had not had a
cap for a long time, nor a belt to his caftan, nor an embroidered
neckerchief: all had gone the proper road. The throng increased; more
folk joined the dancer: and it was impossible to observe without emotion
how all yielded to the impulse of the dance, the freest, the wildest,
Kosachka.

"Oh, if I had no horse to hold," exclaimed Taras, "I would join the
dance myself."


were therefore incessant. The Cossacks thought it a nuisance to fill up
Meanwhile there began to appear among the throng men who were respected
for their prowess throughout all the Setch--old greyheads who had been
leaders more than once. Taras soon found a number of familiar
faces. Ostap and Andrii heard nothing but greetings. "Ah, it is
you, Petcheritza! Good day, Kozolup!"--"Whence has God brought you,
Taras?"--"How did you come here, Doloto? Health to you, Kirdyaga!
Hail to you, Gustui! Did I ever think of seeing you, Remen?" And these
heroes, gathered from all the roving population of Eastern Russia,
kissed each other and began to ask questions. "But what has become of
Kasyan? Where is Borodavka? and Koloper? and Pidsuitok?" And in reply,
Taras Bulba learned that Borodavka had been hung at Tolopan, that
Koloper had been flayed alive at Kizikirmen, that Pidsuitok's head had
been salted and sent in a cask to Constantinople. Old Bulba hung his
head and said thoughtfully, "They were good Cossacks."

A few words on "The Pasture," by Robert Frost, and a version in Italian by LiteraryJoint; The Pasture (Il Pascolo) by Robert Frost, translated in Italian.

Les Alpilles, Mountain Landscape near Saintint-Rémy Rijksmuseum Kröller-Müller, Otterlo, Netherlands

  "The Pasture" was originally published as the introductory poem in Robert Frost’s first American collection, North of Boston, in 1915, and was conceived as a way of introducing himself to the readers, as an invitation to come along on his poetic journey. The poem hints at the ancestral relationship between a farmer and his bucolic surroundings, a mirror to the poet's intimate connection with his mind-created world. Then, let's just "wait to watch the water clear, we may" and fetch the little calf: after all, we "sha'n't be gone long."

    

    The Pasture

     I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;

     I'll only stop to rake the leaves away

     (And wait to watch the water clear, I may):

     I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.

     I'm going out to fetch the little calf

    That's standing by the mother. It's so young,

    It totters when she licks it with her tongue.

    I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.

By Robert Frost, from the collection "North of Boston," 1915

    Follows an Italian version, translated by LiteraryJoint. 

Il Pascolo

Esco a ripulire la fonte del pascolo;

Mi fermo solo per levare le foglie col rastrello

(E aspettare di vedere l'acqua limpida, magari):

Non sto via tanto. — Vieni anche tu.

Esco a riprendere il vitellino

    Che se ne sta in piedi accanto alla madre. E' così giovane,

Trema tutto quando lo lecca con la sua lingua.

Non sto via tanto. — Vieni anche tu.

    Robert Frost, dalla raccolta "North of Boston", 1915. Traduzione in italiano a cura di LiteraryJoint. 

The Daughter of the Commandant, by Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin, translated in English by Milne Home. Full text, full version of "The Captain's Daughter," by Aleksandr Pushkin. (Russian: Капитанская дочка, Kapitanskaya dochka)

Alexander Pushkin by Orest Kiprensky, 1827.







The Daughter of the Commandant, by Aleksandr

Sergeevich Pushkin, Translated by Mrs. Milne Home
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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Language: English



THE DAUGHTER OF THE COMMANDANT

A Russian Romance

by Aleksandr Pushkin

Translated by Mrs. Milne Home

Authoress of "Mamma's Black Nurse Stories," "West Indian Folklore"


CHAPTER

I.    Sergeant of the Guards
II.   The Guide
III.  The Little Fort
IV.   The Duel
V.    Love
VI.   Pugatchéf
VII.  The Assault
VIII. The Unexpected Visit
IX.   The Parting
X.    The Siege
XI.   The Rebel Camp
XII.  The Orphan
XIII. The Arrest
XIV.  The Trial


CHAPTER I.

SERGEANT OF THE GUARDS.



all my brothers and sisters died young. I had been enrolled as sergeant
Count Münich,[1] had retired in 17--with the rank of senior major. Since
that time he had always lived on his estate in the district of Simbirsk,
where he married Avdotia, the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in the
neighbourhood. Of the nine children born of this union I alone survived;
in the Séménofsky regiment by favour of the major of the Guard, Prince

I could read and write, and was considered a good judge of the points of
Banojik, our near relation. I was supposed to be away on leave till my
education was finished. At that time we were brought up in another
manner than is usual now.

From five years old I was given over to the care of the huntsman,
Savéliitch,[2] who from his steadiness and sobriety was considered
worthy of becoming my attendant. Thanks to his care, at twelve years old

'_moussié_,' as if there were not enough servants in the house?"
a greyhound. At this time, to complete my education, my father hired a
Frenchman, M. Beaupré, who was imported from Moscow at the same time as
the annual provision of wine and Provence oil. His arrival displeased
Savéliitch very much.

"It seems to me, thank heaven," murmured he, "the child was washed,
combed, and fed. What was the good of spending money and hiring a

Beaupré, in his native country, had been a hairdresser, then a soldier

_liqueur_ glasses, and as on these occasions it somehow never came to
in Prussia, and then had come to Russia to be "_outchitel_," without
very well knowing the meaning of this word.[3] He was a good creature,
but wonderfully absent and hare-brained. His greatest weakness was a
love of the fair sex. Neither, as he said himself, was he averse to the
bottle, that is, as we say in Russia, that his passion was drink. But,
as in our house the wine only appeared at table, and then only in
the turn of the "_outchitel_" to be served at all, my Beaupré soon

soon parted us, and it was through an event which I am going to relate.
accustomed himself to the Russian brandy, and ended by even preferring
it to all the wines of his native country as much better for the
stomach. We became great friends, and though, according to the contract,
he had engaged himself to teach me _French, German, and all the
sciences_, he liked better learning of me to chatter Russian
indifferently. Each of us busied himself with our own affairs; our
friendship was firm, and I did not wish for a better mentor. But Fate

The washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox, and the

been procured for me from Moscow, which hung against the wall without
one-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother with such
stories against the "_moussié_," that she, who did not at all like these
kind of jokes, in her turn complained to my father, who, a man of hasty
temperament, instantly sent for that _rascal of a Frenchman_. He was
answered humbly that the "_moussié_" was giving me a lesson. My father
ran to my room. Beaupré was sleeping on his bed the sleep of the just.
As for me, I was absorbed in a deeply interesting occupation. A map had
ever being used, and which had been tempting me for a long time from the

room, and dismissed him the same day, to the inexpressible joy of
size and strength of its paper. I had at last resolved to make a kite of
it, and, taking advantage of Beaupré's slumbers, I had set to work.

My father came in just at the very moment when I was tying a tail to the
Cape of Good Hope.

At the sight of my geographical studies he boxed my ears sharply, sprang
forward to Beaupré's bed, and, awaking him without any consideration, he
began to assail him with reproaches. In his trouble and confusion
Beaupré vainly strove to rise; the poor "_outchitel_" was dead drunk.
My father pulled him up by the collar of his coat, kicked him out of the
Savéliitch.

Thus was my education finished.


power of upsetting his temper very much. My mother, who knew all his
I lived like a stay-at-home son (_nédoross'l_),[4] amusing myself by
scaring the pigeons on the roofs, and playing leapfrog with the lads of
the courtyard,[5] till I was past the age of sixteen. But at this age my
life underwent a great change.

One autumn day, my mother was making honey jam in her parlour, while,
licking my lips, I was watching the operations, and occasionally tasting
the boiling liquid. My father, seated by the window, had just opened the
_Court Almanack_, which he received every year. He was very fond of
this book; he never read it except with great attention, and it had the
whims and habits by heart, generally tried to keep the unlucky book

born the same year our Aunt Anastasia Garasimofna[8] lost an eye, and
hidden, so that sometimes whole months passed without the _Court
Almanack_ falling beneath his eye. On the other hand, when he did chance
to find it, he never left it for hours together. He was now reading it,
frequently shrugging his shoulders, and muttering, half aloud--

"General! He was sergeant in my company. Knight of the Orders of Russia!
Was it so long ago that we--"

At last my father threw the _Almanack_ away from him on the sofa, and
remained deep in a brown study, which never betokened anything good.

"Avdotia Vassiliéva,"[6] said he, sharply addressing my mother, "how
old is Petróusha?"[7]

"His seventeenth year has just begun," replied my mother. "Petróusha was
that--"


of them. The day of my departure was at once fixed. The evening before
"All right," resumed my father; "it is time he should serve. 'Tis time
he should cease running in and out of the maids' rooms and climbing into
the dovecote."

The thought of a coming separation made such an impression on my mother
that she dropped her spoon into her saucepan, and her eyes filled with
tears. As for me, it is difficult to express the joy which took
possession of me. The idea of service was mingled in my mind with the
liberty and pleasures offered by the town of Petersburg. I already saw
myself officer of the Guard, which was, in my opinion, the height of
human happiness.

My father neither liked to change his plans, nor to defer the execution
my father told me that he was going to give me a letter for my future

shall smell powder, he shall become a soldier and not an idler of the
superior officer, and bid me bring him pen and paper.

"Don't forget, Andréj Petróvitch," said my mother, "to remember me to
Prince Banojik; tell him I hope he will do all he can for my Petróusha."

"What nonsense!" cried my father, frowning. "Why do you wish me to write
to Prince Banojik?"

"But you have just told us you are good enough to write to Petróusha's
superior officer."

"Well, what of that?"

"But Prince Banojik is Petróusha's superior officer. You know very well
he is on the roll of the Séménofsky regiment."

"On the roll! What is it to me whether he be on the roll or no?
Petróusha shall not go to Petersburg! What would he learn there? To
spend money and commit follies. No, he shall serve with the army, he

All my brilliant expectations and high hopes vanished. Instead of the
Guard, he shall wear out the straps of his knapsack. Where is his
commission? Give it to me."

My mother went to find my commission, which she kept in a box with my
christening clothes, and gave it to my father with, a trembling hand. My
father read it with attention, laid it before him on the table, and
began his letter.

Curiosity pricked me.

"Where shall I be sent," thought I, "if not to Petersburg?"

I never took my eyes off my father's pen as it travelled slowly over the
paper. At last he finished his letter, put it with my commission into
the same cover, took off his spectacles, called me, and said--

"This letter is addressed to Andréj Karlovitch R., my old friend and
comrade. You are to go to Orenburg[9] to serve under him."


'Take care of your coat while it is new, and of your honour while it is
gay and lively life of Petersburg, I was doomed to a dull life in a far
and wild country. Military service, which a moment before I thought
would be delightful, now seemed horrible to me. But there was nothing
for it but resignation. On the morning of the following day a travelling
_kibitka_ stood before the hall door. There were packed in it a trunk
and a box containing a tea service, and some napkins tied up full of
rolls and little cakes, the last I should get of home pampering.

My parents gave me their blessing, and my father said to me--

"Good-bye, Petr'; serve faithfully he to whom you have sworn fidelity;
obey your superiors; do not seek for favours; do not struggle after
active service, but do not refuse it either, and remember the proverb,
young.'"


mouth. He was playing with the marker, who was to have a glass of brandy
My mother tearfully begged me not to neglect my health, and bade
Savéliitch take great care of the darling. I was dressed in a short
"_touloup_"[10] of hareskin, and over it a thick pelisse of foxskin. I
seated myself in the _kibitka_ with Savéliitch, and started for my
destination, crying bitterly.

I arrived at Simbirsk during the night, where I was to stay twenty-four
hours, that Savéliitch might do sundry commissions entrusted to him. I
remained at an inn, while Savéliitch went out to get what he wanted.
Tired of looking out at the windows upon a dirty lane, I began wandering
about the rooms of the inn. I went into the billiard room. I found there
a tall gentleman, about forty years of age, with long, black
moustachios, in a dressing-gown, a cue in his hand, and a pipe in his

accepted with pleasure; we sat down to table; Zourine drank a great
if he won, and, if he lost, was to crawl under the table on all fours. I
stayed to watch them; the longer their games lasted, the more frequent
became the all-fours performance, till at last the marker remained
entirely under the table. The gentleman addressed to him some strong
remarks, as a funeral sermon, and proposed that I should play a game
with him. I replied that I did not know how to play billiards. Probably
it seemed to him very odd. He looked at me with a sort of pity.
Nevertheless, he continued talking to me. I learnt that his name was
Iván Ivánovitch[11] Zourine, that he commanded a troop in the ----th
Hussars, that he was recruiting just now at Simbirsk, and that he had
established himself at the same inn as myself. Zourine asked me to lunch
with him, soldier fashion, and, as we say, on what Heaven provides. I

was a very bad habit.
deal, and pressed me to drink, telling me I must get accustomed to the
service. He told good stories, which made me roar with laughter, and we
got up from table the best of friends. Then he proposed to teach me
billiards.

"It is," said he, "a necessity for soldiers like us. Suppose, for
instance, you come to a little town; what are you to do? One cannot
always find a Jew to afford one sport. In short, you must go to the inn
and play billiards, and to play you must know how to play."

These reasons completely convinced me, and with great ardour I began
taking my lesson. Zourine encouraged me loudly; he was surprised at my
rapid progress, and after a few lessons he proposed that we should play
for money, were it only for a "_groch_" (two kopeks),[12] not for the
profit, but that we might not play for nothing, which, according to him,


We supped with this Arinúshka. Zourine always filled up my glass,
I agreed to this, and Zourine called for punch; then he advised me to
taste it, always repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

"And what," said he, "would the service be without punch?"

I followed his advice. We continued playing, and the more I sipped my
glass, the bolder I became. My balls flew beyond the cushions. I got
angry; I was impertinent to the marker who scored for us. I raised the
stake; in short, I behaved like a little boy just set free from school.
Thus the time passed very quickly. At last Zourine glanced at the clock,
put down his cue, and told me I had lost a hundred roubles.[13] This
disconcerted me very much; my money was in the hands of Savéliitch. I
was beginning to mumble excuses, when Zourine said--

"But don't trouble yourself; I can wait, and now let us go to
Arinúshka's."

What could you expect? I finished my day as foolishly as I had begun it.

your father nor your grandfather were drunkards. We needn't talk of
repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

Upon leaving the table I could scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine took
me back to the inn.

Savéliitch came to meet us at the door.

"What has befallen you?" he said to me in a melancholy voice, when he
saw the undoubted signs of my zeal for the service. "Where did you thus
swill yourself? Oh! good heavens! such a misfortune never happened
before."

"Hold your tongue, old owl," I replied, stammering; "I am sure you are
drunk. Go to bed, ... but first help me to bed."

The next day I awoke with a bad headache. I only remembered confusedly
the occurrences of the past evening. My meditations were broken by
Savéliitch, who came into my room with a cup of tea.

"You begin early making free, Petr' Andréjïtch," he said to me, shaking
his head. "Well, where do you get it from? It seems to me that neither
your mother; she has never touched a drop of anything since she was

"Your devoted
born, except '_kvass_.'[14] So whose fault is it? Whose but the
confounded '_moussié_;' he taught you fine things, that son of a dog,
and well worth the trouble of taking a Pagan for your servant, as if our
master had not had enough servants of his own!"

I was ashamed. I turned round and said to him--

"Go away, Savéliitch; I don't want any tea."

But it was impossible to quiet Savéliitch when once he had begun to
sermonize.

"Do you see now, Petr' Andréjïtch," said he, "what it is to commit
follies? You have a headache; you won't take anything. A man who gets
drunk is good for nothing. Do take a little pickled cucumber with honey
or half a glass of brandy to sober you. What do you think?"

At this moment a little boy came in, who brought me a note from Zourine.
I unfolded it and read as follows:--

"DEAR PETR' ANDRÉJÏTCH,

"Oblige me by sending by bearer the hundred roubles you lost to me
yesterday. I want money dreadfully.


"IVÁN ZOURINE."


"What are you standing there for like a stock?" I exclaimed, angrily.
There was nothing for it. I assumed a look of indifference, and,
addressing myself to Savéliitch, I bid him hand over a hundred roubles
to the little boy.

"What--why?" he asked me in great surprise.

"I owe them to him," I answered as coldly as possible.

"You owe them to him!" retorted Savéliitch, whose surprise became
greater. "When had you the time to run up such a debt? It is
impossible. Do what you please, excellency, but I will not give this
money."

I then considered that, if in this decisive moment I did not oblige this
obstinate old man to obey me, it would be difficult for me in future to
free myself from his tutelage. Glancing at him haughtily, I said to
him--

"I am your master; you are my servant. The money is mine; I lost it
because I chose to lose it. I advise you not to be headstrong, and to
obey your orders."

My words made such an impression on Savéliitch that he clasped his hands
and remained dumb and motionless.


Savéliitch began to weep.


My reflections during the journey were not very pleasant. According to
"Oh! my father, Petr' Andréjïtch," sobbed he, in a trembling voice; "do
not make me die of sorrow. Oh! my light, hearken to me who am old;
write to this robber that you were only joking, that we never had so
much money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him your parents have
strictly forbidden you to play for anything but nuts."

"Will you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting him. "Hand
over the money, or I will kick you out of the place."

Savéliitch looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and went to
fetch my money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I wished to assert
myself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine got his hundred
roubles.

Savéliitch was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn; he came in
telling me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk with an uneasy
conscience, and with some silent remorse, without taking leave of my
instructor, whom I little thought I should ever see again.




CHAPTER II.

THE GUIDE.



say when they hear that their child is a drunkard and a gamester?"
the value of money at that time, my loss was of some importance. I could
not but confess to myself that my conduct at the Simbirsk Inn had been
most foolish, and I felt guilty toward Savéliitch. All this worried me.
The old man sat, in sulky silence, in the forepart of the sledge, with
his face averted, every now and then giving a cross little cough. I had
firmly resolved to make peace with him, but I did not know how to begin.
At last I said to him--

"Look here, Savéliitch, let us have done with all this; let us make
peace."

"Oh! my little father, Petr' Andréjïtch," he replied, with a deep sigh,
"I am angry with myself; it is I who am to blame for everything. What
possessed me to leave you alone in the inn? But what could I do; the
devil would have it so, else why did it occur to me to go and see my
gossip the deacon's wife, and thus it happened, as the proverb says, 'I
left the house and was taken to prison.' What ill-luck! What ill-luck!
How shall I appear again before my master and mistress? What will they


I did, in fact, perceive on the horizon a little white cloud which I
To comfort poor Savéliitch, I gave him my word of honour that in future
I would not spend a single kopek without his consent. Gradually he
calmed down, though he still grumbled from time to time, shaking his
head--

"A hundred roubles, it is easy to talk!"

I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched a wild and dreary
desert, intersected by little hills and deep ravines. All was covered
with snow. The sun was setting. My _kibitka_ was following the narrow
road, or rather the track, left by the sledges of the peasants. All at
once my driver looked round, and addressing himself to me--

"Sir," said he, taking off his cap, "will you not order me to turn
back?"

"Why?"

"The weather is uncertain. There is already a little wind. Do you not
see how it is blowing about the surface snow."

"Well, what does that matter?"

"And do you see what there is yonder?"

The driver pointed east with his whip.

"I see nothing more than the white steppe and the clear sky."

"There, there; look, that little cloud!"

had at first taken for a distant hill. My driver explained to me that

The snow drifted round and covered us. The horses went at a walk, and
this little cloud portended a "_bourane_."[15] I had heard of the
snowstorms peculiar to these regions, and I knew of whole caravans
having been sometimes buried in the tremendous drifts of snow.
Savéliitch was of the same opinion as the driver, and advised me to turn
back, but the wind did not seem to me very violent, and hoping to reach
in time the next posting station, I bid him try and get on quickly. He
put his horses to a gallop, continually looking, however, towards the
east. But the wind increased in force, the little cloud rose rapidly,
became larger and thicker, at last covering the whole sky. The snow
began to fall lightly at first, but soon in large flakes. The wind
whistled and howled; in a moment the grey sky was lost in the whirlwind
of snow which the wind raised from the earth, hiding everything around
us.

"How unlucky we are, excellency," cried the driver; "it is the
_bourane_."

I put my head out of the _kibitka_; all was darkness and confusion. The
wind blew with such ferocity that it was difficult not to think it an
animated being.

soon stopped altogether.

"Why don't you go on?" I said, impatiently, to the driver.


"Heaven only knows, excellency," replied he, resuming his seat.
"But where to?" he replied, getting out of the sledge. "Heaven only
knows where we are now. There is no longer any road, and it is all
dark."

I began to scold him, but Savéliitch took his part.

"Why did you not listen to him?" he said to me, angrily. "You would have
gone back to the post-house; you would have had some tea; you could
have slept till morning; the storm would have blown over, and we should
have started. And why such haste? Had it been to get married, now!"

Savéliitch was right. What was there to do? The snow continued to
fall--a heap was rising around the _kibitka_. The horses stood
motionless, hanging their heads and shivering from time to time.

The driver walked round them, settling their harness, as if he had
nothing else to do. Savéliitch grumbled. I was looking all round in
hopes of perceiving some indication of a house or a road; but I could
not see anything but the confused whirling of the snowstorm.

All at once I thought I distinguished something black.

"Hullo, driver!" I exclaimed, "what is that black thing over there?"

The driver looked attentively in the direction I was pointing out.


"It is not a sledge, it is not a tree, and it seems to me that it moves.

"How do you know where the road is that you are so ready to say, 'Other
It must be a wolf or a man."

I ordered him to move towards the unknown object, which came also to
meet us. In two minutes I saw it was a man, and we met.

"Hey, there, good man," the driver hailed him, "tell us, do you happen
to know the road?"

"This is the road," replied the traveller. "I am on firm ground; but
what the devil good does that do you?"

"Listen, my little peasant," said I to him, "do you know this part of
the country? Can you guide us to some place where we may pass the
night?"

"Do I know this country? Thank heaven," rejoined the stranger, "I have
travelled here, on horse and afoot, far and wide. But just look at this
weather! One cannot keep the road. Better stay here and wait; perhaps
the hurricane will cease and the sky will clear, and we shall find the
road by starlight."

His coolness gave me courage, and I resigned myself to pass the night on
the steppe, commending myself to the care of Providence, when suddenly
the stranger, seating himself on the driver's seat, said--

"Grace be to God, there _is_ a house not far off. Turn to the right, and
go on."

"Why should I go to the right?" retorted my driver, ill-humouredly.

people's horses, other people's harness--whip away!'"


first vague visions of drowsiness. It seemed to me that the snowstorm
It seemed to me the driver was right.

"Why," said I to the stranger, "do you think a house is not far off?"

"The wind blew from that direction," replied he, "and I smelt smoke, a
sure sign that a house is near."

His cleverness and the acuteness of his sense of smell alike astonished
me. I bid the driver go where the other wished. The horses ploughed
their way through the deep snow. The _kibitka_ advanced slowly,
sometimes upraised on a drift, sometimes precipitated into a ditch, and
swinging from side to side. It was very like a boat on a stormy sea.

Savéliitch groaned deeply as every moment he fell upon me. I lowered the
_tsinofka_,[16] I rolled myself up in my cloak and I went to sleep,
rocked by the whistle of the storm and the lurching of the sledge. I had
then a dream that I have never forgotten, and in which I still see
something prophetic, as I recall the strange events of my life. The
reader will forgive me if I relate it to him, as he knows, no doubt, by
experience how natural it is for man to retain a vestige of superstition
in spite of all the scorn for it he may think proper to assume.

I had reached the stage when the real and unreal begin to blend into the

your _godfather_.[17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you."
continued, and that we were wandering in the snowy desert. All at once I
thought I saw a great gate, and we entered the courtyard of our house.
My first thought was a fear that my father would be angry at my
involuntary return to the paternal roof, and would attribute it to a
premeditated disobedience. Uneasy, I got out of my _kibitka_, and I saw
my mother come to meet me, looking very sad.

"Don't make a noise," she said to me. "Your father is on his death-bed,
and wishes to bid you farewell."

Struck with horror, I followed her into the bedroom. I look round; the
room is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking sad
and cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the curtain, and
said--

"Andréj Petróvitch, Petróusha has come back; he came back having heard
of your illness. Give him your blessing."

I knelt down. But to my astonishment instead of my father I saw in the
bed a black-bearded peasant, who regarded me with a merry look. Full of
surprise, I turned towards my mother.

"What does this mean?" I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing?"

"It is the same thing, Petróusha," replied my mother. "That person is


fresh and hale. Savéliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a
I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the bed,
quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood. The terrible peasant called me gently, saying to me--

"Fear nothing, come near; come and let me bless you."

Fear had stupified me....

At this moment I awoke. The horses had stopped; Savéliitch had hold of
my hand.

"Get out, excellency," said he to me; "here we are."

"Where?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"At our night's lodging. Heaven has helped us; we came by chance right
upon the hedge by the house. Get out, excellency, as quick as you can,
and let us see you get warm."

I got out of the _kibitka_. The snowstorm still raged, but less
violently. It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been
blind. The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath
the skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily
clean, lit by a _loutchina_.[18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a
high Cossack cap.

Our host, a Cossack of the Yaïk,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still

I willingly acceded to his desire. The host took from one of the shelves
fire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I
never had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.

"What has become of our guide? Where is he?" I asked Savéliitch.

"Here, your excellency," replied a voice from above.

I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard
and two sparkling eyes.

"Well, are you cold?"

"How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? I
had a _touloup_, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in
pawn at the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen."

At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling _samovar_.[20] I
offered our guide a cup of tea. He at once jumped down.

I was struck by his appearance. He was a man about forty, middle height,
thin, but broad-shouldered. His black beard was beginning to turn grey;
his large quick eyes roved incessantly around. In his face there was an
expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His hair was cut
short. He wore a little torn _armak_,[21] and wide Tartar trousers.

I offered him a cup of tea; he tasted it, and made a wry face.

"Do me the favour, your excellency," said he to me, "to give me a glass
of brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea."


about the army of the Yaïk, which had only just been reduced to
of the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked him
well in the face--

"Well, well," said he, "so here you are again in our part of the world.
Where, in heaven's name, do you come from now?"

My guide winked in a meaning manner, and replied by the well-known
saying--

"The sparrow was flying about in the orchard; he was eating hempseed;
the grandmother threw a stone at him, and missed him. And you, how are
you all getting on?"

"How are we all getting on?" rejoined the host, still speaking in
proverbs.

"Vespers were beginning to ring, but the wife of the _pope_[22] forbid
it; the pope went away on a visit, and the devils are abroad in the
churchyard."

"Shut up, uncle," retorted the vagabond. "When it rains there will be
mushrooms, and when you find mushrooms you will find a basket to put
them in. But now" (he winked a second time) "put your axe behind your
back,[23] the gamekeeper is abroad. To the health of your excellency."

So saying he took the glass, made the sign of the cross, and swallowed
his brandy at one gulp, then, bowing to me, returned to his lair above
the stove.

I could not then understand a single word of the thieves' slang they
employed. It was only later on that I understood that they were talking
submission after the revolt of 1772.[24]


half roubles to spare. If we take to giving gratuities to everybody we
Savéliitch listened to them talking with a very discontented manner, and
cast suspicious glances, sometimes on the host and sometimes on the
guide.

The kind of inn where we had sought shelter stood in the very middle of
the steppe, far from the road and from any dwelling, and certainly was
by no means unlikely to be a robber resort. But what could we do? We
could not dream of resuming our journey. Savéliitch's uneasiness amused
me very much. I stretched myself on a bench. My old retainer at last
decided to get up on the top of the stove,[25] while the host lay down
on the floor. They all soon began to snore, and I myself soon fell dead
asleep.

When I awoke, somewhat late, on the morrow I saw that the storm was
over. The sun shone brightly; the snow stretched afar like a dazzling
sheet. The horses were already harnessed. I paid the host, who named
such a mere trifle as my reckoning that Savéliitch did not bargain as he
usually did. His suspicions of the evening before were quite gone. I
called the guide to thank him for what he had done for us, and I told
Savéliitch to give him half a rouble as a reward.

Savéliitch frowned.

"Half a rouble!" cried he. "Why? Because you were good enough to bring
him yourself to the inn? I will obey you, excellency, but we have no
shall end by dying of hunger."


_touloup_ of hareskin, and still quite new! And to whom is it
I could not dispute the point with Savéliitch; my money, according to my
solemn promise, was entirely at his disposal. Nevertheless, I was
annoyed that I was not able to reward a man who, if he had not brought
me out of fatal danger, had, at least, extricated me from an awkward
dilemma.

"Well," I said, coolly, to Savéliitch, "if you do not wish to give him
half a rouble give him one of my old coats; he is too thinly clad. Give
him my hareskin _touloup_."

"Have mercy on me, my father, Petr' Andréjïtch!" exclaimed Savéliitch.
"What need has he of your _touloup_? He will pawn it for drink, the
dog, in the first tavern he comes across."

"That, my dear old fellow, is no longer your affair," said the vagabond,
"whether I drink it or whether I do not. His excellency honours me with
a coat off his own back.[26] It is his excellency's will, and it is your
duty as a serf not to kick against it, but to obey."

"You don't fear heaven, robber that you are," said Savéliitch, angrily.
"You see the child is still young and foolish, and you are quite ready
to plunder him, thanks to his kind heart. What do you want with a
gentleman's _touloup_? You could not even put it across your cursed
broad shoulders."

"I beg you will not play the wit," I said to my follower. "Get the cloak
quickly."

"Oh! good heavens!" exclaimed Savéliitch, bemoaning himself. "A

"'Sir, I hope your excellency'--What's all this ceremony? For shame! I
given?--to a drunkard in rags."

However, the _touloup_ was brought. The vagabond began trying it on
directly. The _touloup_, which had already become somewhat too small for
me, was really too tight for him. Still, with some trouble, he succeeded
in getting it on, though he cracked all the seams. Savéliitch gave, as
it were, a subdued howl when he heard the threads snapping.

As to the vagabond, he was very pleased with my present. He ushered me
to my _kibitka_, and saying, with a low bow, "Thanks, your excellency;
may Heaven reward you for your goodness; I shall never forget, as long
as I live, your kindnesses," went his way, and I went mine, without
paying any attention to Savéliitch's sulkiness.

I soon forgot the snowstorm, the guide, and my hareskin _touloup_.

Upon arrival at Orenburg I immediately waited on the General. I found a
tall man, already bent by age. His long hair was quite white; his old
uniform reminded one of a soldier of Tzarina Anne's[27] time, and he
spoke with a strongly-marked German accent. I gave him my father's
letter. Upon reading his name he cast a quick glance at me.