The Secret Dispatch; or, The Adventures of Captain BalgonieGrant, James
History
The Secret Dispatch; or, The Adventures of Captain Balgonie
Grant, James
Russia -- History -- 1801-1917 -- Fiction
Hustled up on his saddle, rather than in it, with his knees on his
holsters and his lance slung behind him, Podatchkine made many signs
of the cross, and called on St. Sergius and all the other
_moshtschi_, or saints of Russia, to bear witness that he was as
innocent as a young bear of any such foul idea; but only begged that
his Excellency would proceed, and assured him that the track they
were on must assuredly bring them, ere long, to some woodman's
dwelling.
At this time, such is the slavish influence of superstition, that
Podatchkine, for mere fellowship, kept close to the very man against
whom he had formed the most fiendish schemes; for stories of the Wood
Fairies,--of the _Leechie_, or Forest-demon, whose fangs tore the
benighted asunder,--of the _Domovoi_, or mischievous Russian
Brownie,--of the _Vodianoi_, or smiling River-spirit, who lured
travellers to a watery doom,--of wolves and bears in ravening herds,
came fast upon his memory; for the forest was growing denser, and the
darkness deepened painfully after the Aurora faded away, and a few
solitary stars alone glinted through the openings between the broad,
flat, pendant branches of the intertwisted pines.
The silence of the night was now broken only by the whistling croak
of the _valdchnep_, or great woodcock, as he darted from amid the
black gloom of a pine tree, or the lighter shadow of the graceful,
but, as yet, leafless birch; and the craven and clamorous anxiety
that had been giving real pangs, and even qualms of conscience, to
the superstitious Podatchkine began to subside, when the wood opened
a little, a red light appeared, and they approached the cottage of
Nicholas Paulovitch, the half-bred.
It was, as already stated, built of logs, squared by the hatchet
outside and inside, and whitened by chalk: before it yawned a deep
draw-well, with a bucket, handle, and winch.
"'Tis the cottage of a man I know. Here, Excellency, we can pass the
night," said Podatchkine, leaping from his horse and dutifully taking
Balgonie's bridle, as if to anticipate any proposition of proceeding
further. "There is a shed behind where I shall stable our horses:
Nicholas, I know, will make us welcome to his lodge."
In a few minutes more, Balgonie found himself seated in the cottage,
the aspect of which struck him as being peculiarly comfortless,
dingy, and squalid, as he viewed it by the light of a _loutchin_, or
species of pine torch, which stood in a rusty iron holder on the
rough deal table, whereon lay a pack of frayed and dog-eared cards.
On the walls were some rude images, stuck over with crumbs of black
bread, which attracted the flies in summer and the dirt at all times.
In a place of honour was a holy effigy, with some train oil flaring
before it in a tin sconce, as a species of votive lamp; for the
proprietor affected religion quite as much as Mr. Gamaliel Balgonie
did in a more civilised part of the world.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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