Household words, no. 306, February 2, 1856 : $b A weekly journal
General
Household words, no. 306, February 2, 1856 : $b A weekly journal
English literature -- Periodicals
I was aroused by the entrance of the corporal, who came to announce
to me that the Cossack soldiers had all deserted the fortress, and
that bands of strange men surrounded us. I thought, with horror, that
Marie’s retreat was cut off. Having given some necessary orders to the
bearer of this unwelcome news, I hurried off to the commandant’s house,
as the day was dawning. On the way I was met by Ivan Ignatiitch, who
told me that the commandant was already upon the ramparts, and that
it was too late for the commandant’s daughter to be safely conveyed
to Orenberg. Terribly agitated, I followed the one-eyed officer to
that little eminence protected by a pallisade, which was the only
fortification of Bélogorsk. The captain was arranging his soldiers
in order of battle. In the dreary distance of the steppe, I could
plainly see the Cossacks and the Bachkirs. The commandant ordered Ivan
Ignatiitch to point the cannon upon the enemy, and the soldiers all
vowed that they would fight to the death.
Presently, as the enemy began to advance in a compact mass, Vassilissa,
accompanied by Marie, who would not leave her mother, appeared, to know
how affairs stood. Marie’s pale face was turned upon me, and I burned
to prove to her that I had a brave spirit worthy of her love. In the
midst of the advancing enemy, Pougatcheff, the renowned rebel leader,
could be distinguished, mounted upon a white horse. In a few minutes
four horsemen advanced from the main body, and rode close up to the
ramparts. They were four traitors from the fortress. They called upon
us not to resist. The captain replied by a volley which killed one
of the four, and the rest rode back to join the advancing army. The
balls now began to whistle about us; and at this moment the commandant
ordered Vassilissa and Marie to withdraw. The old man blessed his
child, embraced his wife, and bade her put a sarafan upon Marie, lest
she should require it; the sarafan being the rich robe in which the
dead are buried. The pale girl came back to make to me the sign of a
last farewell, and then went away with her mother.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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