I seemed to have touched Pugatchef's fierce heart.
"Be it even as you wish," said he. "Either entirely punish or entirely
pardon; that is my motto. Take your pretty one, take her away wherever
you like, and may God grant you love and wisdom."
He turned towards Chvabrine, and bid him write me a safe conduct pass
for all the gates and forts under his command. Chvabrine remained still,
and as if petrified.
Pugatchef went to inspect the fort; Chvabrine followed him, and I stayed
behind under the pretext of packing up. I ran to Marya's room. The door
was shut; I knocked.
"Who is there?" asked Polashka.
I gave my name. Marya's gentle voice was then heard through the door.
"Wait, Petr' Andrejitch," said she, "I am changing my dress. Go to
Akoulina Pamphilovna's; I shall be there in a minute."
I obeyed and went to Father Garasim's house.
The pope and his wife hastened to meet me. Saveliitch had already told
them all that had happened.
"Good-day, Petr' Andrejitch," the pope's wife said to me; "here has God
so ruled that we meet again. How are you? We have talked about you every
day. And Marya Ivanofna, what has she not suffered anent you, my pigeon?
But tell me, my father, how did you get out of the difficulty with
Pugatchef? How was it that he did not kill you? Well, for that, thanks
be to the villain."
"There, hush, old woman," interrupted Father Garasim; "don't gossip
about all you know; too much talk, no salvation. Come in, Petr'
Andrejitch, and welcome. It is long since we have seen each other."
The pope's wife did me honour with everything she had at hand, without
ceasing a moment to talk.
She told me how Chvabrine had obliged them to deliver up Marya Ivanofna
to him; how the poor girl cried, and would not be parted from them; how
she had had continual intercourse with them through the medium of
Polashka, a resolute, sharp girl who made the "ouriadnik" himself
dance (as they say) to the sound of her flageolet; how she had
counselled Marya Ivanofna to write me a letter, etc. As for me, in a few
words I told my story.
The pope and his wife crossed themselves when they heard that Pugatchef
was aware they had deceived him.
"May the power of the cross be with us!" Akoulina Pamphilovna said. "May
God turn aside this cloud. Very well, Alexey Ivanytch, we shall see! Oh!
the sly fox!"
At this moment the door opened, and Marya Ivanofna appeared, with a
smile on her pale face. She had changed her peasant dress, and was
dressed as usual, simply and suitably. I seized her hand, and could not
for a while say a single word. We were both silent, our hearts were too
full.