II. THE GUIDE.
My reflections during the journey were not very agreeable. According tothe value of money at that time my loss was of some importance. I couldnot but admit to myself that my conduct at the inn at Simbirsk had beenvery silly, and I felt guilty toward Saveliitch. The old man was seatedon the front of the vehicle in dull silence; from time to time turninghis head and coughing a cough of ill humor. I had firmly resolved tomake friends with him, but I did not know which way to begin. At last Isaid to him, "Come, come Saveliitch, let us put an end to this; I know Iwas wrong; I was a fool yesterday, and offended you without cause, butI promise to listen to you in future. Come, do not be angry, let us makefriends!"
"Ah! My dear Peter," said he with a sigh, "I am angry with myself. It'sI who was wrong in every thing. How could I have left you alone atthe inn? How could it have been avoided? The devil had a hand in it! Iwanted to go and see the deacon's wife, who is my god-mother, and as theproverb says: 'I left the house and fell into the prison.'"
What a misfortune! what a misfortune! How can I appear before the eyesof my masters? What will they say, when they shall hear that their childis a drunkard and a gambler. To console dear old Saveliitch, I gavehim my word, that for the future I would not dispose of single kopeckwithout his consent. Little by little he became calm, which did not,however, prevent him from grumbling out, now and then shaking his head:"A hundred roubles! It is easy to talk!"
I drew near the place of my destination. Around me extended a desert,sad and wild, broken be little hills and deep ravines, all covered withsnow. The sun was setting.
My kibitka followed the narrow road, or rather trace, left by peasants'sledges. Suddenly my coachman, looking at a certain point and addressingme, "My lord," said he, taking off his cap, "do you not command us toretrace our steps?"
"What for?"
"The weather is uncertain. There is some wind ahead; do you see it drivethe snow on the surface?"
"What matter?"
"And do you not see what is over yonder?" pointing with his whip to theeast.
"I see nothing more than the white steppes and the clear sky."
"There! there! that little cloud!"
I saw indeed upon the horizon a little white cloud that I had at firsttaken for a distant hill. My coachman explained to me that this littlecloud foretold a _chasse-neige_--a snowdrift. I had heard of thedrifting snows of this region, and I know that at times, stormsswallowed up whole caravans. Saveliitch agreed with the coachman, andadvised our return.
But to me the wind did not seem very strong. I hoped to arrive in timefor the next relay of horses. I gave orders, therefore, to redouble ourspeed. The coachman put his horses to the gallop, and kept his eyes tothe east.
The wind blew harder and harder. The little cloud soon became a greatwhite mass, rising heavily, growing, extending, and finally invading thewhole sky. A fine snow began to fall, which suddenly changed to immenseflakes. The wind whistled and howled. It was a _chasse-neige_--asnowdrift.
In an instant the somber sky was confounded with the sea of snow whichthe wind raised up from the earth. Every thing was indistinguishable.
"Woe, to us! my lord," cried the coachman, "it is a whirlwind of snow!"
I put my head out of the kibitka--darkness and storm. The wind blew withan expression so ferocious that it seemed a living creature.
The snow fell in large flakes upon us, covering us. The horses went at awalking pace, but very soon stood still.
"Why do you not go on?" I said to the coachman.
"Go where?" he replied, as he got down from the kibitka. "God knowswhere we are now! There is no road; all is darkness."
I began to scold him. Saveliitch took up his defense:
"Why did you not listen to him," said he, angrily; "you could havereturned, taken some tea and slept till morning; the storm would havebeen over, and we could then have set out. Why this haste? as if youwere going to your wedding?"
Saveliitch was right. What was to be done? The snow continued to fall;it was heaped up around the kibitka; the horses stood motionless, nowand then shivering. The coachman walked around them adjusting theirharness, as if he had nothing else to do.
Saveliitch grumbled.
I strained my eyes in every direction, hoping to see signs of adwelling, or of a road, but I could only see the whirling of thesnow-drift. All at once I thought I saw some thing black. "Halloo!coachman," I cried out, "what is that black thing yonder?"
The coachman looked attentively where I indicated. "God knows, my lord,"he replied, re-mounting to his seat; "it is not a kibitka, nor a tree;it seems to be moving. It must be a wolf or a man!"
I ordered him to go in the direction of the unknown object which wascoming toward us. In two minutes we were on a line with it, and Irecognized a man.
"Halloo! good man!" shouted my coachman; "tell us, do you know theroad?"
"This is the road," replied the man. "I am on solid ground, but what thedevil is the good of that."
"Listen, my good peasant," said I; "do you know this country? Can youlead us to a shelter for the night?"
"This country! Thank God, I have been over it on foot and in carriage,from one end to the other. But one can not help losing the road in thisweather. It is better to stop here and wait till the hurricane ceases:then the sky will clear, and we can find the way by the stars."
His coolness gave me courage. I had decided to trust myself to the mercyof God and pass the night on the steppe, when the traveler, seatinghimself on the bench which was the coachman's seat, said to the driver:
"Thank God, a dwelling is near. Turn to the right and go on."
"Why should I turn to the right?" said the coachman, sulkily, "where doyou see a road?"
"Must I say to you these horses, as well as the harness, belong toanother? then use the whip without respite."
I thought my coachman's view rational.
"Why do you believe," said I to the new-comer, "that a dwelling is notfar off?"
"The wind blows from that quarter," said he, "and I have smelledsmoke--proof that a dwelling is near."
His sagacity, the delicacy of his sense of smell, filled me withadmiration; I ordered my coachman to go wherever the other wished. Thehorses walked heavily through the deep snow. The kibitka advanced butslowly, now raised on a hillock, now descending into a hollow, swayingfrom side like a boat on a stormy sea.
Saveliitch, falling over on me every instant, moaned. I pulled down thehood of the kibitka, wrapped myself up in my pelisse, and fell asleep,rocked by the swaying of the vehicle, and lulled by the chant of thetempest.
The horses stopped. Saveliitch was holding my hand.
"Come out, my lord," said he, "we have arrived."
"Where have we arrived?" said I, rubbing my eyes.
"At the shelter. God has helped us; we have stumbled right uponthe hedge of the dwelling. Come out, my lord, quick; come and warmyourself."
I descended from the kibitka; the hurricane had not ceased, but it hadmoderated; sight was useless, it was so dark. The master of the housemet us at the door, holding a lantern under the flaps of his long coat,the Cossack cafetan. He led us into a small, though no untidy room,lighted by a pine torch. In the centre hung a carabine and a highCossack cap.
Our host, a Cossack from the river Iaik, was a peasant of some sixtyyears, still fresh and green.
Saveliitch brought in the case containing my tea-service; he asked forfire to make me a few cups of tea, of which I never had greater need.The host hastened to serve us.
"Where is our guide?" I asked of Saveliitch.
"Here, your lordship," replied a voice from above. I raised my eyes tothe loft, and saw a black beard and two sparkling black eyes.
"Well, are you cold?"
"How could I help being cold in this little cafetan full of holes.What's the use of concealment? I had a touloup, but I left it yesterdayin pledge with the liquor-seller; then the cold did not seem so great."
At this moment our ho
st entered with the portable furnace and boiler,the Russian _Somovar_. I offered our guide a cup of tea. Down he cameat once. As he stood in the glare of the pine torch his appearance wasremarkable. A man about forty years of age, medium height, slight butwith broad shoulders. His black beard was turning grey; large, quick,restless eyes, gave him an expression full of cunning, and yet not atall disagreeable. He was dressed in wide Tartar pantaloons and an oldjacket. His hair was cut evenly round.
I offered him a cup of tea. He tasted it and made a grimace.
"Do me the favor, my lord, to order me a glass of brandy; tea is not theCossack's drink."
I willingly granted the request. The host took from the shelf of acloset a bottle and a glass, and going up to him, looking him full inthe face, said:
"Ah! ah! here you are again in our district. Whence has God broughtyou?"
My guide winked in the most significant fashion and replied by thewell-know proverb: "'The sparrow was in the orchard eating flax-seed;the grandmother threw a stone at it, and missed.' And you? how are allyours?"
"How are we?" said the host, and continuing in proverbs: "'They began toring the bell for Vespers, but the priest's wife forbade it. The priestwent visiting, and the devils are in the graveyard.'"
"Be silent, uncle," said the vagabond.
"'When there shall be rain, there will be mushrooms, and when thereshall be mushrooms, there will be a basket to put them in. Put thyhatchet behind thy back, the forest guard is out walking.'"
"To your lordship's health." Taking the glass, he made the sign of thecross, and at one gulp swallowed his brandy. He then saluted me andremounted to his loft. I did not understand a word of this thief'sslang. It was only in the sequel that I learned that they spoke ofthe affairs of the army of the Iaik, which had just been reduced toobedience after the revolt of 1772. Saveliitch listened and glancedsuspiciously from host to guide.
The species of inn where we were sheltered was in the very heart of thesteppes, far from the road and every inhabited spot, and looked verymuch like a rendezvous of robbers. But to set off again on our journeywas impossible. The disgust of Saveliitch amused not a little; however,he finally decided to mount upon the roof of the stove, the ordinary bedof the Russian peasant. The warm bricks of the hot-air chamber of thestove diffused a grateful heat, and soon the old man and the host, whohad laid himself on the floor, were snoring. I stretched myself upona bench, and slept like a dead. Awaking next morning quite late, I sawthat the hurricane was over. The sun shone out, the snow extended in thedistance like a sheet of dazzling white damask. The horses were alreadyat the door, harnessed. I paid our host, who asked so small a pittancethat even Saveliitch did not, as usual, haggle over the price. Hissuspicions of the evening before had entirely disappeared. I called theguide to thank him for the service he had done us, and told Saveliitchto give him half a rouble. Saveliitch frowned.
"Half a rouble," said he; "What for? Because you yourself deigned tobring him to the inn? Your will be done, my lord, but we have not arouble to spare. If we begin by giving drink money to every one we shallend by dying of hunger."
It was useless to argue with him; my money, according to my promise, wasentirely at his discretion. But it was very unpleasant not to be able toreward a man who had extricated me from danger, perhaps death.
"Well," said I, coolly, "if you will not give him half a rouble, giveone of my coats--he is too thinly clad; give him the hare-skin touloup."
"Have mercy on me! My dear Peter," said Saveliitch, "what does he wantwith your touloup? He will drink its price, the dog, at the first inn."
"That, my good old man, is none of your business," said the vagabond;"his lordship following the custom of royalty to vassals, gives me acoat from his own back, and your duty as serf is not to dispute, but toobey."
"You have not the fear of God, brigand that you are," said Saveliitch,angrily; "you see that the child has not yet attained to full reason,and there you are, glad to pillage him, thanks to his kind heart. Youcan not even wear the pelisse on your great, cursed shoulders."
"Come," said I, "do not play the logician; bring the touloup quickly."
"Oh, Lord!" said the old man, moaning--"a touloup of hare-skin! Quitenew,--to give it to a drunkard in rags."
It was brought, however, and the vagabond began to get into it. Itwas rather tight for me, and was much too small for him. He put iton, nevertheless, but with great difficulty, bursting all the seams.Saveliitch uttered something like a smothered howl, when he heard thethreads crack. As for the vagabond, he was well pleased with my present.He re-conducted me to my kibitka, and said, with a profound bow:"Thanks, my lord, may god reward you. I shall never forget yourgoodness."
He went his way,--I set out on mine, paying no attention to thesullenness of Saveliitch. I soon forgot the hurricane and the guide, aswell as the touloup of hare-skin.
Arrived at Orenbourg, I presented myself at once to the General. He wasa tall man, bent by age, with long hair quite white. An old, worn-outuniform, recalled the soldier of the times of the Empress Anne, and hisspeech betrayed a strong German accent.
I gave him my father's letter.
Reading my name, he glanced at me quickly. "Mein Gott," said he, "it isso short a time since Andrew Grineff was your age, and now, see what afine fellow of a son he has. Ah! time! time!" He opened the letter andbegan to run it over with a commentary of remarks.
"'Sir, I hope your Excellency,'--What is this; what is the meaning ofthis ceremony? discipline, of course before all, but is this the wayto write to an old friend? Hum--'Field-marshal Munich--littleCaroline--brother.' Ah! then he remembers--'Now to business. I send youmy son; hold him with porcupine gloves.'
"What does that mean?" said he, "that must be a Russian proverb."
"It means," said I, with an air of innocence, "to treat a person mildly,to give one liberty."
"Hum!" said he, reading, "'and give him no liberty.' No," he continued,"your proverb does not mean liberty. Well, my son," said he, havingfinished the letter, "every thing shall be done for you. You shall be anofficer in the ---- regiment, and not to lose time, go tomorrow to thefort of Belogorsk, where you will serve under Captain Mironoff, a braveand honest man. There you will see service and learn discipline. Youhave nothing to do here at Orenbourg, and amusements are dangerous to ayoung man. Today I invite you to dine with me."
From bad to worse, thought I. What was the use of being a Sergeant inthe Guards almost from my mother's womb? To what has it led? To theregiment of ----, and an abandoned fortress on the frontier of thesteppes!
I dined at the General's in company with his old Aid-de-camp. SevereGerman economy reigned at table, and I think the fear of having anoccasional guest the more had something to do with sending me to adistant garrison.
The next day I took my leave of the General and set out for Belogorsk.