Anna Vlassyevna was amazed, and started to bustle about. ‘Dear me!’ she cried. ‘The Empress summons you to Court. How did she get to hear of you? And how are you going to appear before Her Majesty, my dear? I’ll warrant you know nothing of Court manners…. Hadn’t I better accompany you? I could warn you about one or two things at any rate. And how can you go in your travelling-dress? Should we not send to the midwife for her yellow gown with the hoop petticoat?’
The footman announced that it was the Empress’s pleasure that Maria Ivanovna should go alone and in the clothes she was wearing. There was nothing for it: Maria Ivanovna took her seat in the carriage and was driven off to the Palace, with parting admonitions and blessings from Anna Vlassyevna.
Maria Ivanovna felt that our fate was about to be decided: her heart beat violently. In a few moments the carriage drew up at the Palace. Maria Ivanovna walked up the steps with limbs that trembled. The doors were flung wide open before her. She passed through a succession of deserted, magnificent rooms, preceded by the footman. At last, coming to a closed door, he said that he would go in and announce her, and she was left alone.
The thought of seeing the Empress face to face was so terrifying that her legs could scarcely support her. In another minute the door opened and she was ushered into the Empress’s dressing-room.
The Empress was seated at her toilet-table, surrounded by several ladies of her suite who respectfully made way for Maria Ivanovna. The Empress turned round to her with a gracious look and Maria Ivanovna recognized the lady to whom she had talked so frankly not so many minutes before. Calling Maria Ivanovna to her side, the Empress said with a smile: ‘I am glad to have been able to keep my word and grant your petition. Your affairs are attended to. I am convinced that your betrothed is innocent. Here is a letter which you will give to your future father-in-law.’
Maria Ivanovna took the letter with a trembling hand and fell, weeping, at the feet of the Empress, who raised her up and kissed her. ‘I know you are not rich,’ she said, ‘but I am in debt to Captain Mironov’s daughter. Do not worry about the future. I will provide for you.’
After having made much of her, the Empress dismissed the poor orphan. Maria Ivanovna was driven back in the same royal carriage. Anna Vlassyevna, who had been impatiently awaiting her return, bombarded her with questions, which Maria Ivanovna answered somewhat vaguely. Anna Vlassyevna was disappointed at her poor memory but ascribed it to provincial shyness, and magnanimously excused her. That same day Maria Ivanovna went back to the country, without even bestowing a glance on Petersburg….
*
The memoirs of Piotr Andreich Griniov end at this point Family history tells us that he was released from his imprisonment towards the close of the year 1774 at the express order of the Empress; that he was present at the execution of Pugachev, who recognized him in the crowd and nodded his head to him which a moment later was shown lifeless and bleeding to the people. Shortly afterwards, Piotr Andreich and Maria Ivanovna were married. Their descendants still flourish in the province of Simbirsk. Some thirty versts from — there is a village belonging to ten owners. In one of the manor-houses a letter written by Catherine II may be seen in a frame under glass. It is addressed to Piotr Andreich’s father and affirms the innocence of his son, and praises the intelligence and heart of Captain Mironov’s daughter.
Piotr Andreich Griniov’s manuscript was given to me by one of his grandchildren who had heard that I was engaged upon a work dealing with the period described by his grandfather. With the relatives’ consent I have decided to publish it separately, after finding a suitable epigraph for each chapter and taking the liberty of changing some of the proper names.
THE EDITOR
19 October 1836.
ADDITION TO CHAPTER 131
ZURIN received orders to cross the Volga and hasten to Simbirsk, where the flames of insurrection were already burning. The thought that I might be able to go home, embrace my parents and see Maria Ivanovna filled me with delight I danced about like a child, and kept repeating as I hugged Zurin: ‘To Simbirsk! To Simbirsk!’ Zurin sighed and said, with a shrug of his shoulders: ‘No, no good will come of it. If you marry, you will be done for, and to no advantage!…’
We were approaching the banks of the Volga. Our regiment entered the village of X. and stopped there for the night. The next morning we were to cross the river. The village elder told me that all the villages on the other side had risen, and that Pugachev’s bands were prowling about everywhere.
This news filled me with profound alarm.
I was seized with impatience which allowed me no rest. My father’s estate was on the other side of the river, thirty versts away. I asked if there was anyone who would row me across. All the peasants were fishermen; there were plenty of boats. I went to Zurin and told him of my intention. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘It is dangerous to go alone. Wait till morning. We will be the first to cross and will pay a visit to your parents with fifty hussars in case of emergency.’
I insisted on having my way. The boat was ready. I stepped into it with two boatmen. They pushed off and plied their oars.
The sky was clear. The moon shone brightly. The air was still. The Volga flowed smooth and calm. Swaying rhythmically, the boat glided over the crest of the dark waves. Half an hour passed. I was absorbed in reverie. We reached the middle of the river…. Suddenly the boatmen started whispering together. ‘What is it?’ I asked, returning to reality. ‘Heaven only knows: we can’ t tell,’ the boatmen answered, both staring to one side. I looked in the same direction and saw in the dark something floating down stream. The mysterious object was approaching us. I told the oarsmen to stop and wait. ‘What can it be?’ they wondered. ‘It’s not a sail, and it’s not a mast.’ The moon hid behind a cloud. The floating phantom became still blacker. It was now quite close to me and yet I could not make out what it was. Suddenly the moon reappeared from behind the cloud and lit up a terrible sight. A gallows fixed to a raft was floating towards us. Three bodies were hanging from the cross-piece. A morbid curiosity possessed me. I wanted to look into the hanged men’s faces. I told the oarsmen to grab the raft with a boat-hook, and my boat bumped against the floating gallows. I jumped on to the raft and found myself between the dreadful posts. The full moon illumined the mutilated faces of the unfortunate creatures. One of them was an old Tchuvash,1 the second a Russian peasant, a strapping lad of about twenty. Lifting my eyes to look at the third, I was shocked and could not refrain from crying out: it was our Vanka,2 our poor Vanka, who in his foolishness went over to Pugachev. A black board had been nailed over their heads on which was written in big white letters: ‘Thieves and rebels’. The boatmen waited for me unconcerned, keeping hold of the raft with the boat-hook. I got back into the boat. The raft floated on down the river. For a long time the gallows towered black in the dim light. At last it disappeared and our craft reached the tall, steep bank.
I paid the boatmen handsomely. One of them took me to the elder of the village by the ferry-stage. I went into the hut with him. On hearing that I wanted horses he was about to treat me in a somewhat unmannerly fashion but my guide whispered some words in his ear and the incivility immediately gave place to an eager obligingness. In a moment a troika was ready, and seating myself I bade the driver take me to our village.
We galloped along the high road past sleeping villages. I feared only one thing – being stopped on the way. My nocturnal encounter on the Volga might prove the presence of rebels but it was likewise evidence of strong counter-action on the part of the government. To provide against all emergencies I carried in my pocket both the safe-conduct given to me by Pugachev and Colonel Zurin’s travel-pass. But we did not meet anyone and towards morning I caught sight of the river and the grove of pines behind which lay our village. The driver whipped up the horses and a quarter of an hour later we drove into X. The manor-house was at the other end of the village. The horses were flying along. Suddenly, in the middle of the village street, th
e driver began pulling up. ‘What is it?’ I asked impatiently. ‘A barrier, sir,’ the driver answered, with difficulty bringing the quivering horses to a standstill. Indeed, I could see a cheval de frise and a sentry armed with a club. The man came up to me and, taking off his hat, requested my passport. ‘What does this mean?’ I asked him. ‘Why is this barricade here? Who are you guarding?’ – ‘But, my good sir, we are in rebellion,’ he answered, scratching himself. ‘And where are your masters?’ I asked, with a sinking heart. ‘Where are our masters?’ the peasant repeated. ‘Master and mistress are in the granary.’ – ‘What do you mean – in the granary?’ – ‘Why, Andriushka our scribe put them in the stocks, you see, and wants to take them to our Sovereign Tsar!’ – ‘Heavens above! Lift the bar, you blockhead. What are you waiting for?’
The man took his time. I jumped out of the troika, boxed his ears (I am sorry to say) and pushed the barrier aside myself. The peasant watched me in stupid amazement. Getting back into the carriage, I told the driver to drive to the house as fast as possible. The granary was in the courtyard. Two peasants armed with clubs were standing by the locked doors. The troika drew up just in front of them. I leaped out and rushed at them. ‘Open the doors!’ I commanded. I must have looked formidable for, throwing down their clubs, they ran away. I tried to wrench the padlock off and break in; but the doors were of oak and the huge padlock impregnable. At that moment a young peasant emerged from the servants’ quarters and asked me arrogantly how I dared make such a disturbance. ‘Where is Andriushka, the scribe?’ I shouted. ‘Call him to me.’
‘My name is Andrei Afanassyevich, not Andriushka,’ he replied haughtily, his arms akimbo. ‘What do you want?’
Instead of answering, I seized him by the collar and dragging him to the granary doors told him to open them. The scribe was for resisting; but a ‘paternal’ cuff had due effect on him, too. He pulled out the key and opened the granary. I dashed over the threshold and in a dark corner feebly lit by a narrow skylight saw my mother and father. Their hands were bound, their feet in stocks. I flew to embrace them and could not utter a word. They both looked at me in amazement: I was so altered by three years of military life that they could not recognize me.
Suddenly I heard a dear familiar voice. ‘Piotr Andreich, is that you?’ I looked round and saw Maria Ivanovna in another corner, also bound hand and foot. I was transfixed. My father looked at me in silence, not daring to believe his eyes. Joy shone on his face. ‘Welcome, welcome, Piotr, my dear!’ he said, pressing me to his heart. ‘Thank God you have come in time!’ My mother drew a breath and melted into tears. ‘Petrusha, my dear boy! How has the Lord brought you here? Are you well?’
I made haste to cut their bonds with my sword and to free them from confinement; but when I went to the door I found that it had been locked again. ‘Andriushka!’ I shouted. ‘Open!’ – ‘Oh, to be sure!’ he answered from behind the door. ‘You may as well be shut up, too! That will teach you to brawl and drag the Tsar’s officials by the collar!’
I began to look round the granary to see if there was any way of getting out. ‘Do not give yourself the pains,’ my father said to me. ‘I am not one to have a granary with holes for thieves to creep in and out of.’ My mother, who had rejoiced a moment before at my coming, now fell into despair at the thought that I, too, would have to perish with the rest of the family. But I felt easier now that I was with them and Maria Ivanovna. I had a sword and two pistols: I could withstand a siege. Zurin was due to arrive in the evening and would set us free. I told all this to my parents and succeeded in calming my mother and Maria Ivanovna. They gave themselves up completely to the happiness of our reunion, and several hours passed unnoticed in the uninterrupted exchange of tender words and conversation.
‘Well, Piotr,’ said my father, ‘you have committed your share of follies and I was thoroughly angry with you at the time. But it is no use harping on the past. I hope that you have sown your wild oats now and are reformed. I know that you have performed your duties as befits the honour of an officer. I thank you, you have comforted me in my old age. If I owe my deliverance to you, life will be doubly agreeable.’ With tears in my eyes I kissed his hand and looked at Maria Ivanovna, who was so overjoyed at my presence that she seemed utterly happy and serene.
About midday we heard unwonted uproar and shouting. ‘What does it mean?’ said my father. ‘Can it be your Colonel arriving to the rescue?’ – ‘Impossible,’ I replied. ‘He will not be here before evening.’ The noise increased. The tocsin was sounded. Mounted men were galloping across the courtyard. At that moment Savelich thrust his grey head through a narrow opening in the wall, and my poor old servant said in a pitiful voice: ‘Andrei Petrovich! Piotr Andreich, my dear! Maria Ivanovna I We are lost! The bandits have arrived in the village. And Piotr Andreich, do you know who has brought them? Shvabrin – Alexei Ivanich – may the devil take him!’
When Maria Ivanovna heard the odious name she clasped her hands and remained motionless. ‘Listen!’ I said to Savelich.’ Send someone on horseback to the ferry to meet the Hussar regiment, and tell him to let the Colonel know of the danger we are in.’
‘But who is there to send, sir? All the lads have risen, and all the horses have been seized. Oh dear – there they are in the courtyard already! They are coming to the granary.’
As he said this, we heard several voices on the other side of the door. I signed to my mother and Maria Ivanovna to retire into a corner, drew my sword and leaned against the wall close to the door. My father took the pistols, cocked them both and stationed himself beside me. The lock rattled, the door opened and Andriushka’s head appeared. I struck it with my sword and he fell, blocking the entrance. At the same moment my father fired the pistol in the doorway. The crowd that had been pressing round ran away, uttering curses. I dragged the wounded man across the threshold and closed the door.
The courtyard was full of armed men. Among them I recognized Shvabrin. ‘Don’ t be afraid,’ I said to the women. ‘There is a hope. And, Father, don’ t shoot again. Let us save the last shot.’
My mother was praying silently. Maria Ivanovna stood beside her, waiting with angelic calm for her fate to be decided. Threats, abuse and curses came from the other side of the door. I stood at my post ready to cut down the first man who dared to show himself. Suddenly the brigands were silent. I heard Shvabrin’s voice calling me by name.
‘I am here. What do you want?’
‘Surrender, Griniov: resistance is impossible. Take pity on your old parents. Obstinacy will not save you. I shall have you!’
‘Try, traitor!’
‘I am not going to risk my own skin to no purpose, or waste my men: I shall set fire to the granary, and then we shall see what you do, Don Quixote of the Bielogorsky fortress! Now it is time for dinner. Meanwhile, you sit and think it over at your leisure. Good-bye. Maria Ivanovna, I make you no apologies: no doubt you are enjoying yourself in the dark with your knight.’
Shvabrin went away, leaving a guard at the door. We were silent, each thinking his own thoughts and not daring to communicate them to the others. I pictured to myself all that Shvabrin was capable of doing in his malice. About myself I hardly worried. Shall. I confess it? – even my parents’ fate terrified me less than Maria Ivanovna’s. I knew that my mother was adored by the peasants and the house serfs. My father, too, was loved, in spite of his severity, for he was a just man and knew the true needs of his serfs. Their rebellion was an aberration, a passing intoxication, and not an indication of discontent. It was possible that my parents would be spared. But what of Maria Ivanovna? What fate was that dissolute and unscrupulous man preparing for her? I did not dare dwell upon this awful thought and made ready (God forgive me) to kill her rather than see her a second time in the hands of a cruel enemy.
A further hour or so went by. Drunken men could be heard singing in the village. The sentries on guard at the granary door envied them and vented their spite by reviling us and trying to terrify
us with promises of torture and death. We were waiting for the sequel of Shvabrin’s threats. At last there was a great commotion in the courtyard and we heard Shvabrin’s voice again.
‘Well, have you bethought yourselves? Do you surrender to me of your own will?’
No one answered.
After waiting for a short while Shvabrin ordered his men to bring some straw. In a few minutes flames appeared, lighting up the dim granary. Smoke began to force its way through the cracks in the door.
Then Maria Ivanovna came up to me and, taking me by the hand, said in a low voice: ‘Come, Piotr Andreich! Do not let both yourself and your parents perish on my account. Shvabrin will listen to me. Let me go out!’
‘Never!’ I cried heatedly. ‘Do you know what is in store for you?’
‘I should not survive dishonour,’ she answered quietly. ‘But it may be I could save my liberator and the family which has so generously cared for a poor orphan. Farewell, Andrei Petrovich! Farewell, Avdotia Vassilievna! You have been more than benefactors to me. Give me your blessing. Farewell to you, too, Piotr Andreich. Be sure that… that…’ She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands… I was as one out of his mind. My mother was weeping.
‘Do not be foolish, Maria Ivanovna,’ said my father. ‘Whoever would dream of letting you go to the brigands? Sit here now and be quiet. If we must die, we will all die together. Listen! What’s that they are saying?’
‘Do you give in?’ shouted Shvabrin. ‘Another five minutes and, you’ ll see, you will be roasted.’
‘We do not surrender, you villain!’ my father answered firmly. His fearless, deeply lined face was astonishingly animated. His eyes flashed under the white eyebrows. Turning to me, he said: ‘Now is the time!’