The Daughter of the Commandant - Page 82/87

The news of my arrest electrified with horror my whole family. Still,

Marya had so simply told my parents the origin of my strange friendship

with Pugatchef that, not only were they not uneasy, but it even made

them laugh heartily. My father could not believe it possible that I

should be mixed up in a disgraceful revolt, of which the object was the

downfall of the throne and the extermination of the race of "boyars."

He cross-examined Saveliitch sharply, and my retainer confessed that I

had been the guest of Pugatchef, and that the robber had certainly

behaved generously towards me. But at the same time he solemnly averred

upon oath that he had never heard me speak of any treason. My old

parents' minds were relieved, and they impatiently awaited better news.

But as to Marya, she was very uneasy, and only caution and modesty kept

her silent.

Several weeks passed thus. All at once my father received from

Petersburg a letter from our kinsman, Prince Banojik. After the usual

compliments he announced to him that the suspicions which had arisen of

my participation in the plots of the rebels had been proved to be but

too well founded, adding that condign punishment as a deterrent should

have overtaken me, but that the Tzarina, through consideration for the

loyal service and white hairs of my father, had condescended to pardon

the criminal son, and, remitting the disgrace-fraught execution, had

condemned him to exile for life in the heart of Siberia.

This unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He lost his habitual

firmness, and his sorrow, usually dumb, found vent in bitter lament.

"What!" he never ceased repeating, well-nigh beside himself, "What! my

son mixed up in the plots of Pugatchef! Just God! what have I lived to

see! The Tzarina grants him life, but does that make it easier for me to

bear? It is not the execution which is horrible. My ancestor perished on

the scaffold for conscience sake,[71] my father fell with the martyrs

Volynski and Khuchtchoff,[72] but that a 'boyar' should forswear his

oath--that he should join with robbers, rascals, convicted felons,

revolted slaves! Shame for ever--shame on our race!"

Frightened by his despair, my mother dared not weep before him, and

endeavoured to give him courage by talking of the uncertainty and

injustice of the verdict. But my father was inconsolable.

Marya was more miserable than anyone. Fully persuaded that I could have

justified myself had I chosen, she suspected the motive which had kept

me silent, and deemed herself the sole cause of my misfortune. She hid

from all eyes her tears and her suffering, but never ceased thinking how

she could save me.

One evening, seated on the sofa, my father was turning over the Court

Calendar; but his thoughts were far away, and the book did not produce

its usual effect on him. He was whistling an old march. My mother was

silently knitting, and her tears were dropping from time to time on her

work. Marya, who was working in the same room, all at once informed my

parents that she was obliged to start for Petersburg, and begged them to

give her the means to do so.