The Daughter of the Commandant

  CHAPTER II.

  THE GUIDE.

  My reflections during the journey were not very pleasant. According tothe value of money at that time, my loss was of some importance. I couldnot but confess to myself that my conduct at the Simbirsk Inn had beenmost foolish, and I felt guilty toward Saveliitch. All this worried me.The old man sat, in sulky silence, in the forepart of the sledge, withhis face averted, every now and then giving a cross little cough. I hadfirmly resolved to make peace with him, but I did not know how to begin.At last I said to him--

  "Look here, Saveliitch, let us have done with all this; let us makepeace."

  "Oh! my little father, Petr' Andrejitch," he replied, with a deep sigh,"I am angry with myself; it is I who am to blame for everything. Whatpossessed me to leave you alone in the inn? But what could I do; thedevil would have it so, else why did it occur to me to go and see mygossip the deacon's wife, and thus it happened, as the proverb says, 'Ileft 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 theysay when they hear that their child is a drunkard and a gamester?"

  To comfort poor Saveliitch, I gave him my word of honour that in futureI would not spend a single kopek without his consent. Gradually hecalmed down, though he still grumbled from time to time, shaking hishead--

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

  I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched a wild and drearydesert, intersected by little hills and deep ravines. All was coveredwith snow. The sun was setting. My _kibitka_ was following the narrowroad, or rather the track, left by the sledges of the peasants. All atonce my driver looked round, and addressing himself to me--

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

  "Why?"

  "The weather is uncertain. There is already a little wind. Do you notsee 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!"

  I did, in fact, perceive on the horizon a little white cloud which Ihad at first taken for a distant hill. My driver explained to me thatthis little cloud portended a "_bourane_."[15] I had heard of thesnowstorms peculiar to these regions, and I knew of whole caravanshaving been sometimes buried in the tremendous drifts of snow.Saveliitch was of the same opinion as the driver, and advised me to turnback, but the wind did not seem to me very violent, and hoping to reachin time the next posting station, I bid him try and get on quickly. Heput his horses to a gallop, continually looking, however, towards theeast. But the wind increased in force, the little cloud rose rapidly,became larger and thicker, at last covering the whole sky. The snowbegan to fall lightly at first, but soon in large flakes. The windwhistled and howled; in a moment the grey sky was lost in the whirlwindof snow which the wind raised from the earth, hiding everything aroundus.

  "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. Thewind blew with such ferocity that it was difficult not to think it ananimated being.

  The snow drifted round and covered us. The horses went at a walk, andsoon stopped altogether.

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

  "But where to?" he replied, getting out of the sledge. "Heaven onlyknows where we are now. There is no longer any road, and it is alldark."

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

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

  Saveliitch was right. What was there to do? The snow continued tofall--a heap was rising around the _kibitka_. The horses stoodmotionless, hanging their heads and shivering from time to time.

  The driver walked round them, settling their harness, as if he hadnothing else to do. Saveliitch grumbled. I was looking all round inhopes of perceiving some indication of a house or a road; but I couldnot 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.

  "Heaven only knows, excellency," replied he, resuming his seat.

  "It is not a sledge, it is not a tree, and it seems to me that it moves.It must be a wolf or a man."

  I ordered him to move towards the unknown object, which came also tomeet 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 happento know the road?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

  "How do you know where the road is that you are so ready to say, 'Otherpeople's horses, other people's harness--whip away!'"

  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, asure sign that a house is near."

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

  Saveliitch 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 hadthen a dream that I have never forgotten, and in which I still seesomething prophetic, as I recall the strange events of my life. Thereader will forgive me if I relate it to him, as he knows, no doubt, byexperience how natural it is for man to retain a vestige of superstitionin 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 thefirst vague visions of drowsiness. It seemed to me that the snowstormcontinued, and that we were wandering in the snowy desert. All at once Ithought 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 myinvoluntary return to the paternal roof, and would attribute it to apremeditated disobedience. Uneasy, I got out of my _kibitka_, and I sawmy 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; theroom is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking sadand cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the curtain, andsaid--

  "Andrej Petrovitch, Petrousha has come back; he came back having heardof your i
llness. Give him your blessing."

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

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

  "It is the same thing, Petrousha," replied my mother. "That person isyour _godfather_.[17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you."

  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 alldirections. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to besuddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped inpools 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; Saveliitch had hold ofmy 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 rightupon 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 lessviolently. It was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well beenblind. The host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneaththe skirt of his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettilyclean, lit by a _loutchina_.[18] On the wall hung a long carbine and ahigh Cossack cap.

  Our host, a Cossack of the Yaik,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, stillfresh and hale. Saveliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for afire that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, Inever had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.

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

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

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

  "Well, are you cold?"

  "How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? Ihad a _touloup_, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday inpawn 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] Ioffered 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 anexpression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His hair was cutshort. 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 glassof brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea."

  I willingly acceded to his desire. The host took from one of the shelvesof the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked himwell 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-knownsaying--

  "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 areyou all getting on?"

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

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

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

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

  I could not then understand a single word of the thieves' slang theyemployed. It was only later on that I understood that they were talkingabout the army of the Yaik, which had only just been reduced tosubmission after the revolt of 1772.[24]

  Saveliitch listened to them talking with a very discontented manner, andcast suspicious glances, sometimes on the host and sometimes on theguide.

  The kind of inn where we had sought shelter stood in the very middle ofthe steppe, far from the road and from any dwelling, and certainly wasby no means unlikely to be a robber resort. But what could we do? Wecould not dream of resuming our journey. Saveliitch's uneasiness amusedme very much. I stretched myself on a bench. My old retainer at lastdecided to get up on the top of the stove,[25] while the host lay downon the floor. They all soon began to snore, and I myself soon fell deadasleep.

  When I awoke, somewhat late, on the morrow I saw that the storm wasover. The sun shone brightly; the snow stretched afar like a dazzlingsheet. The horses were already harnessed. I paid the host, who namedsuch a mere trifle as my reckoning that Saveliitch did not bargain as heusually did. His suspicions of the evening before were quite gone. Icalled the guide to thank him for what he had done for us, and I toldSaveliitch to give him half a rouble as a reward.

  Saveliitch frowned.

  "Half a rouble!" cried he. "Why? Because you were good enough to bringhim yourself to the inn? I will obey you, excellency, but we have nohalf roubles to spare. If we take to giving gratuities to everybody weshall end by dying of hunger."

  I could not dispute the point with Saveliitch; my money, according to mysolemn promise, was entirely at his disposal. Nevertheless, I wasannoyed that I was not able to reward a man who, if he had not broughtme out of fatal danger, had, at least, extricated me from an awkwarddilemma.

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

  "Have mercy on me, my father, Petr' Andrejitch!" exclaimed Saveliitch."What need has he of your _touloup_? He will pawn it for drink, thedog, 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 witha coat off his own back.[26] It is his excellency's will, and it is yourduty as a serf not to kick against it, but to obey."

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

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

  "Oh! good heavens!" exclaimed Saveliitch, bemoaning himself. "A_touloup_ of hareskin, and still quite new! And to whom is itgiven?--to a drunkard in rags."

  However, the _touloup_ was brought. The vagabond began trying it ondirectly. The _touloup_, which had already become somewhat too small forme, was really too tight for him. Still, with some trouble, he succeededin getting it on, though he cracked all the seams. Saveliitch gave, asit were, a subdued howl when he heard the threads snapping.

  As to the vagabond, he was very pleased with my present. He ushered meto my _kibitka_, and saying, with a low bow, "Thanks, your excellency;may Heaven reward you for your goodness; I shall never forget, as longas I live, your kindnesses," went his way, and I went mine, withoutpaying any attention to Saveliitch'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 atall man, already bent by age. His long hair was quite white; his olduniform reminded one of a soldier of Tzarina Anne's[27] time, and hespoke with a strongly-marked German
accent. I gave him my father'sletter. Upon reading his name he cast a quick glance at me.

  "Ah," said he, "it was but a short time Andrej Petrovitch was your age,and now he has got a fine fellow of a son. Well, well--time, time."

  He opened the letter, and began reading it half aloud, with a runningfire of remarks--

  "'Sir, I hope your excellency'--What's all this ceremony? For shame! Iwonder he's not ashamed of himself! Of course, discipline beforeeverything; but is it thus one writes to an old comrade? 'Yourexcellency will not have forgotten'--Humph! 'And when under the lateField Marshal Muenich during the campaign, as well as littleCaroline'--Eh! eh! _bruder_! So he still remembers our old pranks? 'Nowfor business. I send you my rogue'--Hum! 'Hold him with gloves ofporcupine-skin'--What does that mean--'gloves of porcupine-skin?' Itmust be a Russian proverb.

  "What does it mean, 'hold with gloves of porcupine-skin?'" resumed he,turning to me.

  "It means," I answered him, with the most innocent face in the world,"to treat someone kindly, not too strictly, to leave him plenty ofliberty; that is what holding with gloves of porcupine-skin means."

  "Humph! I understand."

  "'And not give him any liberty'--No; it seems that porcupine-skin glovesmeans something quite different.' Enclosed is his commission'--Where isit then? Ah! here it is!--'in the roll of the Semenofsky Regiment'--Allright; everything necessary shall be done. 'Allow me to salute youwithout ceremony, and like an old friend and comrade'--Ah! he has atlast remembered it all," etc., etc.

  "Well, my little father," said he, after he had finished the letter andput my commission aside, "all shall be done; you shall be an officer inthe ----th Regiment, and you shall go to-morrow to Fort Belogorsk, whereyou will serve under the orders of Commandant Mironoff, a brave andworthy man. There you will really serve and learn discipline. There isnothing for you to do at Orenburg; amusement is bad for a young man.To-day I invite you to dine with me."

  "Worse and worse," thought I to myself. "What good has it done me tohave been a sergeant in the Guard from my cradle? Where has it broughtme? To the ----th Regiment, and to a fort stranded on the frontier ofthe Kirghiz-Kaisak Steppes!"

  I dined at Andrej Karlovitch's, in the company of his old aide de camp.Strict German economy was the rule at his table, and I think that thedread of a frequent guest at his bachelor's table contributed not alittle to my being so promptly sent away to a distant garrison.

  The next day I took leave of the General, and started for mydestination.