THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER VII

THE ATTACK

I DID not undress or sleep that night. I intended to go at dawn to the fortress gate from which Marya Ivanovna was to start on her journey, and there to say good-bye to her for the last time. I was conscious of a great change in myself; the agitation of my mind was much less oppressive than the gloom in which I had been plunged. The grief of parting was mingled with vague but delicious hope, with eager expectation of danger and a feeling of noble ambition. The night passed imperceptibly. I was on the point of going out when my door opened and the corporal came to tell me that our Cossacks had left the fortress in the night, taking Yulai with them by force, and that strange men were riding outside the fortress. The thought that Marya Ivanovna might not have had time to leave terrified me; I hastily gave a few instructions to the corporal and rushed off to the Commandant's.

It was daybreak. As I ran down the street I heard someone calling me. I stopped.

'Where are you going?' Ivan Ignatyitch asked, catching me up. 'Ivan Kuzmitch is on the rampart and has sent me for you. Pugatchov has come.'

'Has Marya Ivanovna left?' I asked with a sinking heart.

'She has not had time,' Ivan Ignatyitch answered. 'The road to Orenburg is cut off; the fortress is surrounded. It is a bad look out, Pyotr Andreyitch!'

We went to the rampart—a natural rise in the ground reinforced by palisading. All the inhabitants of the fortress were crowding there. The soldiers shouldered their rifles.

The cannon had been moved there the day before. The Commandant was walking up and down in front of his small detachment. The presence of danger inspired the old soldier with extraordinary vigour. Some twenty men on horseback were riding to and fro in the steppe not far from the fortress. They seemed to be Cossacks, but there were Bashkirs among them, easily recognized by their lynx caps and quivers. The Commandant walked through the ranks, saying to the soldiers: 'Well, children, let us stand up for our Empress and prove to all the world that we are brave and loyal men!' The soldiers loudly expressed their zeal. Shvabrin stood next to me, looking intently at the enemy. Noticing the commotion in the fortress, the horsemen in the steppe met together and began talking. The Commandant told Ivan Ignatyitch to aim the cannon at the group and fired it himself. The cannon-ball flew with a buzzing sound over their heads without doing any damage. The horsemen dispersed and instantly galloped away; the steppe was empty.

At that moment Vasilissa Yegorovna appeared on the rampart, followed by Masha who would not leave her.

'Well, what's happening?' the Commandant's wife asked. 'How is the battle going? Where is the enemy?'

'The enemy is not far,' Ivan Kuzmitch answered. 'God willing, all sliall be well. Well, Masha, aren't you afraid ?'

'No, father,' Marya Ivanovna answered. 'It is worse at home by myself.'

She looked at me and made an effort to smile. I clasped the hilt of my sword, remembering that the day before I had received it from her hands, as though on purpose to defend her. My heart was glowing, I fancied myself her knight. I longed to prove that I was worthy of her trust and waited impatiently for the decisive hour.

At that moment fresh crowds of horsemen appeared from behind a hill that was less than half a mile from the fortress, and soon the steppe was covered with a multitude of men armed with spears and bows and arrows. A man in a red coat, with a bare sword in his hand, was riding among them mounted on a white horse: he was Pugatchov. He stopped;

the others surrounded him. Four men galloped at full speed, evidently at his command, right up to the fortress. We recognized them for our own treacherous Cossacks. One of them was holding a sheet of paper over his cap; another carried on the point of his spear Yulai's head, which he shook off and threw to us over the palisade. The poor Calmuck's head fell at the Commandant's feet; the traitors shouted:

'Don't shoot, come out to greet the Tsar! the Tsar is here!'

'I'll give it you!' Ivan Kuzmitch shouted. 'Shoot, lads!'

Our soldiers fired a volley. The Cossack who held the letter reeled and fell off his horse; others galloped away. I glanced at Marya Ivanovna. Horrified by the sight of Yulai's blood-stained head and stunned by the volley, she seemed dazed. The Commandant called the corporal and told him to take the paper out of the dead Cossack's hands. The corporal went out into the field and returned leading the dead man's horse by the bridle. He handed the letter to the Commandant. Ivan Kuzmitch read it to himself and then tore it to bits. Meanwhile the rebels were evidently making ready for action. In a few minutes bullets whizzed in our ears, and a few arrows stuck into the ground and the palisade near us.

'Vasilissa Yegorovna,' said the Commandant, 'this is no place for women, take Masha home; you see the girl is more dead than alive.'

Vasilissa Yegorovna, who had grown quiet when the bullets began to fly, glanced at the steppe where a great deal of movement was going on; then she turned to her husband and said:

'Ivan Kuzmitch, life and death are in God's hands; bless Masha. Masha, go to your father!'

Masha, pale and trembling, went up to Ivan Kuzmitch, knelt before him, and bowed down to the ground. The old Commandant made the sign of the cross over her three times, then he raised her and kissing her said in a changed voice:

'Well, Masha, may you be happy. Pray to God; He will not forsake you. If you find a good man, may God give you love and concord. Live as Vasilissa Yegorovna and I have lived. Well, good-bye, Masha. Vasilissa Yegorovna, make haste and take her away!'

Masha flung her arms round his neck and sobbed.

'Let us kiss each other, too,' said the Commandant's wife, bursting into tears. 'Good-bye, my Ivan Kuzmitch. Forgive me if I have vexed you in any way.'

'Good-bye, good-bye, my dear,' said the Commandant, embracing his old wife. 'Well, that will do! Make haste and go home; and, if you have time, dress Masha in a sarafan.'

The Commandant's wife and daughter went away. I followed Marya Ivanovna with my eyes; she looked round and nodded to me. Then Ivan Kuzmitch turned to us and all his attention centred on the enemy. The rebels assembled round their leader and suddenly began dismounting.

'Now, stand firm,' the Commandant said. 'They are going to attack.'

At that moment terrible shouting and yelling was heard; the rebels were running fast towards the fortress. Our cannon was loaded with shot. The Commandant let them come quite near and then fired again. The shot fell right in the middle of the crowd; the rebels scattered and rushed back; their leader alone remained. ... He waved his sword and seemed to be persuading them. . . . The yelling and shouting that had stopped for a moment began again.

'Well, lads,' the Commandant said, 'now open the gates, beat the drum. Forward, children; come out, follow me!'

The Commandant, Ivan Ignatyitch, and I were instantly beyond the rampart; but the garrison lost their nerve and did not move.

'Why do you stand still, children?' Ivan Kuzmitch shouted. 'If we must die, we must—it's all in the day's work!'

At that moment the rebels ran up to us and rushed into the fortress. The drum stopped; the soldiers threw down their rifles; I was knocked down, but got up again and walked into the fortress together with the rebels. The Commandant, wounded in the head, was surrounded by the villains, who demanded the keys; I rushed to his assistance; several burly Cossacks seized me and bound me with their belts, saying:

'You will catch it presently, you enemies of the Tsar!'

They dragged us along the streets; the townspeople came out of their houses with offerings of bread and salt. Church bells were ringing. Suddenly they shouted in the crowd that the Tsar was awaiting the prisoners in the market-place and receiving the oath of allegiance. The people rushed to the market-place; we were driven there also.

Pugatchov was sitting in an arm-chair on the steps of the Commandant's house. He was wearing a red Cossack coat trimmed with gold braid. A tall sable cap with golden tassels was pushed low over his glittering eyes. His face seemed familiar to me. The Cossack elders surrounded him. Father Gerasim, pale and trembling, was standing by the steps with a cross in his hands and seemed to be silently imploring mercy for future victims. Gallows were being hastily put up in the market-place. As we approached, the Bashkirs dispersed the crowd and brought us before Pugatchov. The bells stopped ringing: there was a profound stillness.

'Which is the Commandant?' the Pretender asked. Our Cossack sergeant stepped out of the crowd and pointed to Ivan Kuzmitch. Pugatchov looked at the old man menacingly and said to him:

'How did you dare resist me, your Tsar?' Exhausted by his wound the Commandant mustered his last strength and answered in a firm voice:

'You are not my Tsar; you are a thief and a pretender, let me tell you!'

Pugatchov frowned darkly and waved a white handkerchief. Several Cossacks seized the old Captain and dragged him to the gallows. The old Bashkir, whom we had questioned the night before, was sitting astride on the cross-beam. He was holding a rope and a minute later I saw poor Ivan Kuzmitch swing in the air. Then Ivan Ignatyitch was brought before Pugatchov.

'Take the oath of allegiance to the Tsar Peter III!' Pugatchov said to him.

'You are not our Tsar,' Ivan Ignatyitch answered, repeating his captain's words; 'you are a thief and a pretender, my dear!'

Pugatchov waved his handkerchief again, and the good lieutenant swung by the side of his old chief.

It was my turn next. I boldly looked at Pugatchov, making ready to repeat the answer of my noble comrades. At that moment, to my extreme surprise, I saw Shvabrin among the rebellious Cossacks; he was wearing a Cossack coat and had his hair cropped like theirs. He went up to Pugatchov and whispered something in his ear.

'Hang him!' said Pugatchov, without looking at me.

My head was put through the noose. I began to pray silently, sincerely repenting before God of all my sins and begging Him to save all those dear to my heart. I was dragged under the gallows.

'Never you fear,' the assassins repeated to me, perhaps really wishing to cheer me.

Suddenly I heard a shout: 'Stop, you wretches! Wait!' The hangmen stopped. I saw Savelyitch lying at Pugatchov's feet.

'Dear father,' the poor old man said, 'what would a gentle-born child's death profit you? Let him go; they will give you a ransom for him; and as an example and a warning to others, hang me, if you like—an old man !'

Pugatchov made a sign and they instantly untied me and let go of me.

I cannot say that at that moment I rejoiced at being saved; nor would I say that I regretted it. My feelings were too confused. I was brought before the Pretender once more and made to kneel down. Pugatchov stretched out his sinewy hand to me.

'Kiss his hand, kiss his hand,' people around me said. But I would have preferred the most cruel death to such vile humiliation.

'Pyotr Andreyitch, my dear,' Savelyitch whispered, standing behind me and pushing me forward, 'don't be obstinate! What does it matter? Spit and kiss the vill——

I mean, kiss his hand

I did not stir. Pugatchov let his hand drop, saying with a laugh:

'His honour must have gone crazy with joy. Raise him!'

They pulled me up and left me in peace. I began watching the terrible comedy.

The townspeople were swearing allegiance. They came up one after another, kissed the cross and then bowed to the Pretender. The garrison soldiers were there, too. The regimental tailor, armed with his blunt scissors, was cutting ofi their plaits. Shaking themselves they came to kiss Pugatchov's hand; he gave them his pardon and enlisted them in his gang. All this went on for about three hours. At last Pugatchov got up from the arm-chair and came down the steps accompanied by his elders. A white horse in a rich harness was brought to him. Two Cossacks took him by the arms and put him on the horse. He announced to Father Gerasim that he would have dinner at his house. At that moment a woman's cry was heard. Several brigands had dragged Vasilissa Yegorovna, naked and dishevelled, on to the steps. One of them had already donned her coat. Others were carrying feather-beds, boxes, crockery, linen, and all sorts of household goods.

" My dears, let me go!' the poor old lady cried. 'Have mercy, let me go to Ivan Kuzmitch!'

Suddenly she saw the gallows and recognized her husband.

'Villains!' she cried in a frenzy. 'What have you done to him! Ivan Kuzmitch, light of my eyes, soldier brave and hold! You came to no harm from Prussian swords, or from Turkish guns; you laid down your life not in a combat fair, but perished from a runaway thief!'

'Silence the old witch!' said Pugatchov.

A young Cossack hit her on the head with his sword and she fell dead on the steps. Pugatchov rode away; the people rushed after him.

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