The Daughter of the CommandantPushkin, Aleksandr Sergeevich
History
The Daughter of the Commandant
Pushkin, Aleksandr Sergeevich
Historical fiction; Pugachev, Emelian Ivanovich, -1775 -- Fiction; Russia -- History -- Catherine II, 1762-1796 -- Fiction
Gloomy thoughts overwhelmed me. The position of a poor orphan left
solitary and friendless in the power of rascals filled me with fear,
while my own powerlessness equally distressed me; but Chvabrine,
Chvabrine above all, filled me with alarm. Invested with all power by
the usurper, and left master in the fort, with the unhappy girl, the
object of his hatred, he was capable of anything. What should I do? How
could I help her? How deliver her? Only in one way, and I embraced it.
It was to start with all speed for Orenburg, so as to hasten the
recapture of Bélogorsk, and to aid in it if possible.
I took leave of the pope and of Akoulina Pamphilovna, recommending
warmly to them her whom I already regarded as my wife. I seized the hand
of the young girl and covered it with tears and kisses.
"Good-bye," the pope's wife said to me, as she led me away. "Good-bye,
Petr' Andréjïtch; perhaps we may meet again in happier times. Don't
forget us, and write often to us. Except you, poor Marya Ivánofna has no
longer stay or comforter."
Out in the Square I stopped a minute before the gallows, which I
respectfully saluted, and I then took the road to Orenburg, accompanied
by Savéliitch, who did not forsake me.
As I thus went along, deep in thought, I heard all at once a horse
galloping behind me. I turned round, and saw a Cossack coming up from
the fort, leading a Bashkir horse, and making signs to me from afar to
wait for him. I stopped, and soon recognized our "_ouriadnik_."
After joining us at a gallop, he jumped from the back of his own horse,
and handing me the bridle of the other--
"Your lordship," said he, "our father makes you a present of a horse,
and a pelisse from his own shoulder." On the saddle was slung a plain
sheepskin "_touloup_." "And, besides," added he, hesitatingly, "he gives
you a half-rouble, but I have lost it by the way; kindly excuse it."
Savéliitch looked askance at him.
"You have lost it by the way," said he, "and pray what is that which
jingles in your pocket, barefaced liar that you are?"
"Jingling in my pocket?" replied the "_ouriadnik_," not a whit
disconcerted; "God forgive you, old man, 'tis a bridlebit, and never a
half rouble."
"Well! well!" said I, putting an end to the dispute. "Thank from me he
who sent you: and you may as well try as you go back to find the lost
half rouble and keep it for yourself."
"Many thanks, your lordship," said he, turning his horse round; "I will
pray God for ever for you."
With these words, he started off at a gallop, keeping one hand on his
pocket, and was soon out of sight. I put on the "_touloup_" and mounted
the horse, taking up Savéliitch behind me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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