XIII. THE ARREST.
In two hours we reached the neighboring fortress, which also belongedto Pougatcheff. We there changed horses. By the celerity with which theyserved us, and the eager zeal of the bearded Cossack, whom Pougatcheffhad made Commandant, I perceived that, thanks to the talk of ourpostilion, I was supposed to be a favorite with their master. Whenwe started off again, it was dusk; we were drawing near a town where,according to the bearded Commandant, there ought to be a very strongdetachment of Pougatcheff's forces. The sentinels stopped us and to thedemand: "Who goes there?" our postilion answered in a loud voice: "Afriend of the Czar, traveling with his wife."
We were at once surrounded by a detachment of Russian hussars, who sworefrightfully.
"Come out," said a Russian officer, heavily mustached; "We'll give you abath!"
I requested to be taken before the authorities. Perceiving that I wasan officer, the soldiers ceased swearing, and the officer took me to theMajor's. Saveliitch followed, growling out: "We fall from the fire intothe flame!"
The kibitka came slowly after us. In five minutes we reached a smallhouse, all lighted up. The officer left me under a strong guard, andentered to announce my capture. He returned almost instantly, sayingthat I was ordered to prison, and her ladyship to the presence of theMajor.
"Is he mad?" I cried.
"I can not tell, your lordship."
I jumped up the steps--the sentinels had not time to stop me--and burstinto the room where six hussar officers were playing faro. The Majorkept the bank. I instantly recognized the Major as Ivan Zourine, who hadso thoroughly emptied my purse at Simbirsk. "Is it possible? is this youIvan Zourine?"
"Halloo! Peter; what luck? where are you from? will you take a chance?"
"Thanks; I would rather have some apartments assigned me."
"No need of apartments, stay with me."
"I can not; I am not alone."
"Bring your comrade with you."
"I am not with a comrade; I am with--a lady."
"A lady! where did you fish her out?" and he whistled in so rollicking amanner, that the rest burst out laughing.
"Well," said Zourine, "then you must have a house in the town. Here,boy! why do you not bring in Pougatcheff's friend?"
"What are you about," said I. "It is Captain Mironoff's daughter. I havejust obtained her liberty, and I am taking her to my father's, where Ishall leave her."
"In the name of Heaven, what are _you_ talking about? Are _you_Pougatcheff's chum?"
"I will tell you everything later; first go and see this poor girl, whomyour soldiers have horribly frightened."
Zourine went out into the street to excuse himself to Marie, and explainthe mistake, and ordered the officer to place her and her maid in thebest house in the city. I stayed with him. After supper, as soon as wewere alone, I gave him the story of my adventures.
He shook his head. "That's all very well; but why will you marry? As anofficer and a comrade, I tell you marriage is folly! Now listen tome. The road to Simbirsk has been swept clean by our soldiers; you cantherefore send the Captain's daughter to your parents tomorrow, andremain yourself in my detachment. No need to return to Orenbourg; youmight fall again into the hands of the rebels."
I resolved to follow, in part, Zourine's advice. Saveliitch came toprepare my room for the night. I told him to be ready to set out in themorning with Marie.
"Who will attend you, my lord?"
"My old friend," said I, trying to soften him, "I do not need a servanthere, and in serving Marie, you serve me, for I shall marry her as soonas the war is over."
"Marry!" repeated he, with his hands crossed, and a look ofinexpressible blankness, "the child wants to marry! What will yourparents say?"
"They will, no doubt, consent as soon as they know Marie. You willintercede for us, will you not?"
I had touched the old man's heart. "O Peter!" said he, "you are tooyoung to marry, but the young lady is an angel, and it would be a sin tolet the chance slip. I will do as you desire."
The next day I made known my plans to Marie. As Zourine's detachment wasto leave the city that same day, delay was impossible. I confided Marieto my dear old Saveliitch, and gave him a letter for my father. Marie,in tears, took leave of me. I did not dare to speak, lest the bystandersshould observe my feelings.
It was the end of the February; Winter, which had rendered manoeuveringdifficult was now at a close, and our generals were preparing for acombined campaign. At the approach of our troops, revolted villagesreturned to their duty, while Prince Galitzin defeated the usurper,and raised the siege of Orenbourg, which was the death-blow to therebellion. We heard of Pougatcheff in the Ural regions, and on theway to Moscow. But he was captured. The war was over. Zourine receivedorders to return his troops to their posts. I jumped about the roomlike a boy. Zourine shrugged his shoulders, and said: "Wait till you aremarried, and see how foolish you are!"
I had leave of absence. In a few days I would be at home and united toMarie. One day Zourine came into my room with a paper in his hand, andsent away the servant.
"What's the matter?" said I.
"A slight annoyance," he answered, handing me the paper. "Read."
It was confidential order addressed to all the chiefs of detachments toarrest me, and send me under guard to Khasan before the Commissionof Inquiry, created to give information against Pougatcheff and hisaccomplices. The paper fell from my hands.
"Do not be cast down," said Zourine, "but set out at once."
My conscience was easy, but the delay! It would be months, perhaps,before I could get through the Commission. Zourine bade me anaffectionate adieu. I mounted the telega (Summer carriage), two hussarswithdrawn swords beside, and took the road to Khasan.
XIV. THE SENTENCE.
I had no doubt that I was arrested for having left the fortress ofOrenbourg without leave, and felt sure that I could exculpate myself.Not only were we not forbidden, but on the contrary, we wereencouraged to make forays against the enemy. My friendly relations withPougatcheff, however, wore a suspicious look.
Arriving at Khasan, I found the city almost reduced to ashes. Alongthe streets there were heaps of calcined material of unroofed wallsof houses--a proof that Pougatcheff had been there. The fortress wasintact. I was taken there and delivered to the officer on duty. Heordered the blacksmith to rivet securely iron shackles on my feet. I wasthen consigned to a small, dark dungeon, lighted only by a loop-hole,barred with iron. This did not presage anything good, yet I did not losecourage; for, having tasted the delight of prayer, offered by a heartfull of anguish, I fell asleep, without a thought for the morrow. Thenext morning I was taken before the Commission. Two soldiers crossedthe yard with me, to the Commandant's dwelling. Stopping in theante-chamber, they let me proceed alone to the interior.
I entered quite a spacious room. At a table, covered with papers, sattow personages,--a General advanced in years, of stern aspect, and ayoung officer of the Guards, of easy and agreeable manners. Near thewindow, at another table, a secretary, pen on ear, bending over a paper,was ready to take my deposition.
The interrogation began: "Your name and profession?" The Generalasked if I was the son of Andrew Grineff, and upon my replying in theaffirmative, exclaimed: "It is a pity so honorable a man should have ason so unworthy of him!"
I replied that I hoped to refute all charges against me, by a sincereavowal of the truth. My assurance displeased him.
"You are a bold fellow," said he, frowning; "but we have seen otherslike you."
The young officer asked how, and for what purpose I had entered therebel service.
I replied indignantly, that being an officer and a noble, I wasincapable of enlisting in the usurper's army, and had never served himin any way.
"How is it," said my judge, "that the 'officer and noble' is the onlyone spared by Pougatcheff? How is it that the 'officer and noble'received presents from the chief rebel, of a horse and a pelisse?Upon what is this intimacy founded, if not o
n treason, or at leastunpardonable cowardice?"
The words wounded me, and I undertook with warmth my own defense,finally invoking the name of my General who could testify to my zealduring the siege of Orenbourg. The severe old man took from the table anopen letter, and read:
"With regard to Ensign Griness, I have the honor to declare, that he was in the service at Orenbourg from the month of October, 1773, till the following February. Since then, he has not presented himself."
Here the General said harshly: "What can you say now to justify yourconduct?"
My judges had listened with interest and even kindness, to the recitalof my acquaintance with the usurper, from the meeting in the snowdriftto the taking of Belogorsk, where he gave me my life through gratitude.I was going to continue my defense, by relating frankly my relationswith Marie, and her rescue. But if I spoke of her the Commission wouldforce her to appear, and her name would become the theme of no verydelicate remarks by the interrogated witnesses. These thoughts sotroubled me that I stammered, and at last was silent.
The judges were prejudiced against me by my evident confusion. The youngGuardsman asked that I should be confronted by my chief accuser. Someminutes later the clank of iron fetters resounded, and Alexis entered.
He was pale and thin. His hair, formerly black as a raven's wing, wasturning gray. He repeated his accusation in a weak but decided tone.
According to him, I was Pougatcheff's spy. I heard him to the end insilence, and rejoiced at one thing: he never pronounced the name ofMarie Mironoff. Was it that his self-love smarted from her contemptuousrejection of him? or was there in his heart a spark of that samefeeling which made me also silent on that point? This confirmed me inmy resolution, and when asked what I had to answer to the charges ofAlexis, I merely said that I held to my first declaration, and hadnothing more to add.
The General remanded us to prison. I looked at Alexis. He smiled withsatisfied hate, raised up his shackles to hasten his pace and passbefore me. I had no further examination. I was not an eye-witness ofwhat remains to be told the reader; but I have so often heard the story,that the minutest particulars are engraved on my memory.
Marie was received by my parents with the cordial courtesy whichdistinguished the preceding generation. They became very much attachedto her, and my father no longer considered my love a folly. The news ofmy arrest was a fearful blow; but Marie and Saveliitch had so franklytold the origin of my connection with Pougatcheff, that the news did notseem grave. My father could not be persuaded that I would take part inan infamous revolt, whose object was the subversion of the throne andthe extinction of the nobility. So better news was expected, and severalweeks passed, when at last a letter came from our relative Prince B---.After the usual compliments, he told my father that the suspicions ofmy complicity in the rebel plots were only too well founded, as had beenproved,--that an exemplary execution might have been my fate, were itnot that the Empress, out of consideration for the father's white hairand loyal services, had commuted the sentence of the criminal son. Shehad exiled him for life to the depths of Siberia!
The blow nearly killed my father, his firmness gave way, and his usuallysilent sorrow burst into bitter plaints: "What! my son plotting withPougatcheff! The Empress gives him his life! Execution not the worstthing in the world! My grandfather died on the scaffold in defense ofhis convictions! But, that a noble should betray his oath, unite withbandits, knaves and revolted slaves! shame! shame forever on our face!"
Frightened by his despair, my mother did not dare to show her grief, andMarie was more desolate than they. Persuaded that I could justify myselfif I chose, she divined the motive of my silence, and believed that shewas the cause of my suffering.
One evening, seated on his sofa, my father was turning over the leavesof the "_Court Almanac_," but his thoughts were far away, and the bookdid not produce its usual effect upon him. My mother was knitting insilence, and from time to time a furtive tear dropped upon her work.Marie, who was sewing in the same room, without any prelude declared tomy parents that she was obliged to go to St. Petersburg, and begged themto furnish her the means.
My mother said: "Why will you leave us?"
Marie replied that her fate depended on this journey; that she was goingto claim the protection of those in favor at Court, as the daughter of aman who had perished a victim to his loyalty.
My father bowed his head. A word which recalled the supposed crime ofhis son, seemed a sharp reproach.
"Go," said he, at last, with a sigh; "we will not place an obstacleto your happiness. May God give you an honorable husband and not atraitor!"
He rose and left the room. Alone with my mother, Marie confided to her,in part, the object of her journey. My mother, in tears, kissed her andprayed for the success of the project. A few days after, Marie, Polaccaand Saveliitch left home.
When Marie reached Sofia, she learned that the Court was at that momentin residence at the summer palace of Tzarskoie-Selo. She decided to stopthere, and obtained a small room at the post-house. The post mistresscame to chat with the new-comer. She told Marie, pompously, that shewas the niece of an official attached to the Court--her uncle having thehonor of attending to the fires in her Majesty's abode! Marie soonknew at what hour the Empress rose, took her coffee, and went on thepromenade; in brief, the conversation of Anna was like a page from thememoirs of the times, and would be very precious in our days. The twowomen went together to the Imperial gardens, where Anna told Mariethe romance of each pathway and the history of every bridge over theartificial streams. Next day very early Marie returned alone to theImperial gardens. The weather was superb. The sun gilded the lindentops, already seared by the Autumn frosts. The broad lake sparkled, theswans, just aroused, came out gravely from the shore. Marie was goingto a charming green sward, when a little dog, of English blood, camerunning to her barking. She was startled; but a voice of rare refinementsaid: "He will not bite you; do not be afraid."
A lady about fifty years of age was seated on a rustic bench. She wasdressed in a white morning-dress, a light cap and a mantilla. Her face,full and florid, was expressive of calmness and seriousness. She was thefirst to speak: "You are evidently a stranger here?"
"That is true, madam. I arrived from the country yesterday."
"You are with your parents?"
"No, madam, alone."
"You are too young to travel alone. Are you here on business?"
"My parents are dead. I came to present a petition to the Empress."
"You are an orphan; you have to complain of injustice, or injury?"
"Madam, I came to ask for a pardon, not justice."
"Permit me a question: Who are you?"
"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff."
"Of Captain Mironoff? of him who commanded one of the fortresses in theprovince of Orenbourg?"
"The same, madam."
The lady seemed touched. "Pardon me, I am going to Court. Explain theobject of your petition; perhaps I can aid you." Marie took from herpocket a paper which she handed to the lady, who read it attentively.Marie, whose eyes followed every movement of her countenance, wasalarmed by the severe expression of face so calm and gracious a momentbefore.
"You intercede for Grineff?" said the lady, in an icy tone. "The Empresscan not pardon him. He went over to the usurper, not as an ignorantbeliever, but as a depraved and dangerous good-for-nothing."
"It is not true!" exclaimed Marie.
"What! not true?" said the lady, flushing to the eyes.
"Before God, it is not true. I know all. I will tell you all. It wasfor me only that exposed himself to all these misfortunes. If he didnot clear himself before his judges, it was because he would not dragme before the authorities." Marie then related with warmth all that thereader knows.
"Where do you lodge?" asked the lady, when the young girl had finishedher recital. Upon hearing that she was staying with the postmaster'swife, she nodded, and said with a smile: "Ah! I know her. Adieu! tell noo
ne of our meeting. I hope you will not have long to wait for the answerto your petition."
She rose and went away by a covered path. Marie went back to Anna's,full of fair hope. The postmaster's wife was surprised that Marie tookso early a promenade, which might in Autumn, prove injurious to a younggirl's health. She brought the _Somovar_, and with her cup of tea wasgoing to relate one of her interminable stories, when a carriage withthe imperial escutcheon stopped before the door. A lackey, wearing theimperial livery, entered and announced that her Majesty deigned to orderto her presence the daughter of Captain Mironoff!
"Ah!" exclaimed Anna, "the Empress orders you to Court! How did she knowyou were with me? You can not present yourself--you do not know how towalk in courtly fashion! I ought to go with you. Shall I not send to thedoctor's wife and get her yellow dress with flounces, for you?"
The lackey declared that he had orders to take Marie alone, just asshe was. Anna did not dare to disobey, and Marie set out. She had apresentiment that her destiny was now to be decided. Her heart beatviolently. In a few minutes the carriage was at the palace, and Marie,having crossed a long suite of apartments, vacant and sumptuous, enteredthe _boudoir_ of the Empress. The nobles who surrounded their sovereignrespectfully made way for the young girl.
The Empress, in whom Marie recognized the lady of the garden, said,graciously: "I am pleased to be able to grant your prayer. Convinced ofthe innocence of your betrothed, I have arranged everything. Here is aletter for your future father-in-law."
Marie, in tears, fell at the feet of the Empress, who raised her up andkissed her, saying:
"I know that you are not rich; but I have to acquit myself of a debtto the daughter of a brave man, Captain Mironoff." Treating Marie withtenderness, the Empress dismissed her. That day Marie set out for myfather's country-seat, not having even glanced at Saint Petersburg.
*****
Here terminate the memoirs of Peter Grineff. We know by family traditionthat he was set free about the end of the year 1774. We know too, thathe was present at the execution of Pougatcheff, who, recognizing him inthe crowd, gave him one last sign with the head which, a moment after,was shown to the people, bleeding and inanimate.
Peter Grineff became the husband of Marie Mironoff. Their descendentsstill live, in the Province of Simbirsk, and in the hereditary manoris still shown the autograph letter of the Empress Catherine II. It isaddressed to Andrew Grineff, and contains, with his son's justification,a touching and beautiful eulogium of Marie, the Captain's daughter.
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