sorties. I returned to my quarters in a state
of wretched despondency. Poor Marie!

Pougatcheff was true to his message. He
appeared before Orenberg with a considerable
force, and the siege lasted long—with
various fortune—until the people within the
walls were almost starving. One day when
some of our cavalry had dispersed a strong
body of Cossacks, I was about to dispatch a
loiterer with my Turkish sword, when he
raised his hat and saluted me by name. I
recognised the ouriadnik of Bélogorsk. He had
a letter for me—I tore it open—it was from
Marie. It informed me that she was the forced
occupant of Chvabrine's house, and that
within three days she would be compelled
to marry him or be at his mercy. The girl
implored me to fly to her succour.

Almost mad, I spurred my horse, rode
at full gallop to the general's house, threw
myself without ceremony into his room, and
asked him to give me a battalion of soldiers
and fifty Cossacks to drive the rebels out of
Bélogorsk. The old soldier began to argue the
matter coolly. This exasperated me, and I
told him that the daughter of our late valiant
commander was in the hands of Chvabrine,
and that he was about to force her to marry
him. The general thought that she might
be very happy with him for a time, and that
afterwards, when he had shot him on the
ramparts of Orenberg, it would be time
enough for me to marry the charming widow.
There was no hope of softening the old man.
I wandered away in despair. Out of this
despair, grew a desperate resolution.

I resolved to leave Orenberg and go
alone to Bélogorsk. Savéliitch tried in vain
to dissuade me from my purpose, but without
effect. I mounted my horse and rode
briskly past the sentinels, out of Orenberg,
followed by my faithful servant: who was
mounted upon a lean horse, which one of
the besieged had given him, having no
more food for it. We rode hard; but night
had closed in when we approached the great
ravine where the main body of the rebels,
under Pougatcheff, were encamped.
Suddenly four or five lusty fellows surrounded
me. I struck at the first with my sword—
putting spurs to my horse, at the same
time, and so escaped; but Savéliitch was
overpowered, and, returning to help him, I
was overpowered too, and through the
darkness of that terrible night, led before the
rebel chief that his guard might know
whether they should hang me at once or
wait till daylight. I was conducted at
once to the isbâ, which was called the czar's
palace. This imperial hut was lighted by
two tallow candles, and was furnished like
any common isbâ, except that the walls
were finely papered. Pougatcheff, surrounded
by his officers, recognised me at once, and
bade all his attendants retire, except two,
one of whom was a prisoner escaped from
Siberia. This man's face was hideously
disfigured; his nose had been cut off, and
his forehead and cheeks branded with red-hot
irons. I told my business frankly, and
Pougatcheff declared that the oppressor of the
orphan should be hanged. But his officers
dissuaded him, and one of them suggested that
he should try the effects of a little torture
upon me. Pougatcheff then questioned me as
to the state of Orenberg; and, although I
knew that the people were dying of hunger,
I declared that it was excellently provisioned.
This reply suggested to one of the chief's
confidential friends, the propriety of having
me hanged, as an impertinent liar. But
Pougatcheff was a generous enemy, and made
me declare to him that the commandant's
daughter was my betrothed, and then he bade
his officers prepare supper for us, saying that
I was an old friend of his. I would have
willingly avoided the festivity, but it was
impossible; and I saw two little Cossack girls
enter to spread the cloth, sadly enough. I
ate my fish soup almost in silence.

The festivity was continued until all present
were more or less intoxicated, and until Pougatcheff
had fallen asleep in his seat. I was then
conducted to the place in which I was to sleep,
and was there locked up for the night. On the
following morning I found a crowd surrounding
a kibitka, in which Pougatcheff was
seated. He beckoned me to a seat beside
him, and to my astonishment shouted to the
stout Tartar driver, "To Bélogorsk!" The
kibitka slipped quickly over the snow. In a
few hours I should see my beloved Marie.

We drew up, after a rapid journey, before
the old commandant's house. Chvabrine
hastened out to meet his sovereign; but
was troubled when he saw me. Pougatcheff
entered the house, drank a glass of
brandy, then asked about Marie. Chvabrine
said she was in bed. His chief then
ordered the traitor to conduct us to her room.
The fellow did so, but hesitated at her door,
—pretended to have lost the key—then said
that the girl was delirious. Pougatcheff
forced the door with his foot; and, to my
inexpressible horror I saw my dear betrothed lying
upon the floor, in coarse peasant clothing,
with bread and water before her. She shrieked
when she saw me. Pougatcheff asked her
what her husband had been doing to her; but
she replied vehemently that she was not his
wife, and never would be. Pougatcheff turned
furiously upon Chvabrine, and Chvabrine, to
my disgust, fell upon his knees at the rebel
chief's feet. Then Pougatcheff told Marie
that she was safe; but she recognised in
him the murderer of her father and closed
her eyes in horror. However, he made
Chvabrine write a safe-conduct for Marie and me
through all the provinces under the control
of his followers; and then he went out to
inspect the fortifications. I was left alone,
and presently Marie came to me, with a smile
upon her pale face, dressed in her own
becoming clothes.