me, and we left him to complete his military
duties. When we arrived at his house, we
found the old one-eyed man and Palachka laying
the cloth. Presently, the captain's daughter,
Marie, made her appearance. Chvabrine had
described her to me as a very foolish person.
She was about sixteen years of age, had a
fine fresh colour, and was very bashful.

I did not think much of her that day. She
blushed terribly when her mother declared
that all she could bring her husband in the
way of wealth was a comb and a few kopeks.
We talked chiefly of the possibility of standing
a siege from the Bachkirs; and the
commandant declared that if such a siege
occurred he would teach the enemy a terrible
lesson. I thought of the twenty invalids, and
did not feel quite so confident on the subject.

Ivan Kourmitch and his wife Vassilissa
were very kind to me, and received me as
one of the family. I liked the little one-eyed
officer; I became more intimate with Marie.

Father Garasim and his wife Akoulina I was
also glad to meet, almost daily, at the
commandant's house. But I soon disliked
Chvabrine. He talked lightly and slightingly of
Marie, and even of Vassilissa. One day,
however, I read to him some amorous verses
I had written; he saw at once, and truly,
that they were addressed to Marie. He
ridiculed them mercilessly, and told me that
if I wished to win the love of Marie I had
only to give her a pair of ear-rings. I flew
into a passion, and asked him how he dared
to take away the character of the
commandant's daughter, He replied, impertinently,
that he spoke of her from personal
experience. I told him to his teeth that he
lied. He demanded satisfaction.

I went to the one-eyed officer—whom I
found threading mushrooms for Vassilissa—
to ask him to act as second. But he
declined. In the evening I was at the
commandant's house; and thinking that night
that it might be my last, as my duel with
Chvabrine was to be early on the morrow,
Marie appeared dearer to me than ever.
Chvabrine came, and behaved so insolently
that I could hardly wait until the morrow.

I was to my time, the next morning,
behind a haystack; Chvabrine was also
punctual. We had just stripped our coats off,
when the one-eyed officer appeared with five
invalids, and marched us off in custody.

Vassilissa ordered us to give up our
swords, and told Palachka to take them up
into the loft; for, in truth, Vassilissa was
the commandant of Bélogorsk. She then
ordered Ivan Kourmitch to put us in opposite
corners of the rooms, and to feed us on bread
and writer until we repented. Marie was very
pale. After a stormy discussion, however,
our swords were restored to us, and I parted
with my adversary: feigning reconcilement,
but secretly agreeing to meet again when the
affair had quite blown over. The next night
I had an opportunity of talking alone with
Marie Ivanovna; and I learned from her—
how she blushed as she told me!—that
Chvabrine had proposed marriage to her, but
that she had refused him. This information
explained to me the fellow's measured scandal.
I burned to meet him again.

I had not to wait long. The next day, as
I was biting my pen, thinking of a rhyme in
an elegy I was composing, the very fellow
tapped at my window. I understood him;
seized my sword; engaged with him; and fell
presently—wounded in the shoulder, and
insensible.

When I became once more conscious, I
found myself in a strange bed, Savéliitch by
my side, and—Marie Ivanovna also. She
asked me tenderly how I felt? Savéliitch,
faithful fellow, cried out:

"Thanks to Heaven he recovers, after four
days of it!"

But Marie interrupted him, and begged
him not to disturb me with his loud exclamations.
I seized her hand, and she did not
withdraw it. Presently I felt her burning
lips upon my forehead. I asked her then to
become my wife. She begged me to calm
myself, if only for her sake, and left me.

Although the barber of the regiment was
my only medical adviser, I soon recovered,
I and Marie were engaged; but she doubted
whether my parents would consent. This
doubt I could not help sharing; but the
letter I wrote to my father on the subject
appeared to both ot us so tender and
convincing, that we felt certain of its success,
and gave ourselves up to the happy dreams
of lovers.

I found that Chvabrine was a prisoner in
the corn-warehouse, and that Vassilissa had
his sword under lock and key. I obtained
his pardon from the captain; and, in my
happiness at tracing his wretched calumny
to offended pride, forgave him. My father, in
answer to my appeal, refused my prayer,
and informed me that I should soon be
removed from Bélogorsk. He also wrote
to Savéliitch, and called him "an old dog,"
for not having taken better care of me.

I went straight to my mistress. She was
bitterly distressed, but adjured me to follow the
will of Heaven, and submit. She would never
marry me, she declared, without the benediction
of my parents, and from that day she
avoided me.

This was towards the end of the year
seventeen hundred and seventy-three. The
inhabitants of the vast and fertile province of
Orenberg had only lately acknowledged the
sovereignty of the Czar, and were yet
discontented, and full of revolutionary ideas. Every
month some little insurrection bubbled
up. To suppress this harassing state of
things, the imperial government had erected
fortresses in various parts of the province,
and quartered therein Cossack soldiers. These
Cossacks in their turn became turbulent;
and the severe measures adopted by General