"Who told you that, my little father?" replied Ivan Kouzmitch.
"I heard it said at Orenburg," replied I.
"That's all rubbish," said the Commandant. "We have not heard a word of
it for ever so long. The Bashkir people have been thoroughly awed, and
the Kirghiz, too, have had some good lessons. They won't dare to attack
us, and if they venture to do so I'll give them such a fright that they
won't stir for ten years at least."
"And you are not afraid," I continued, addressing the Commandant's wife,
"to stay in a fort liable to such dangers?"
"It's all a question of custom, my little father," answered she. "It's
twenty years ago now since we were transferred from the regiment here.
You would never believe how frightened I used to be of those confounded
Pagans. If ever I chanced to see their hairy caps, or hear their howls,
believe me, my little father, I nearly died of it. And now I am so
accustomed to it that I should not budge an inch if I was told that the
rascals were prowling all around the fort."
"Vassilissa Igorofna is a very brave lady," remarked Chvabrine, gravely.
"Ivan Kouzmitch knows something of that."
"Oh! yes, indeed," said Ivan Kouzmitch, "she's no coward."
"And Marya Ivanofna," I asked her mother, "is she as bold as you?"
"Masha!" replied the lady; "no, Masha is a coward. Till now she has
never been able to hear a gun fired without trembling all over. It is
two years ago now since Ivan Kouzmitch took it into his head to fire his
cannon on my birthday; she was so frightened, the poor little dove, she
nearly ran away into the other world. Since that day we have never fired
that confounded cannon any more."
We got up from table; the Commandant and his wife went to take their
siesta, and I went to Chvabrine's quarters, where we passed the evening
together.