The captain's daughter summary 1 4. Alexander Pushkinkapitan's daughter

GUARD SERGEANT

“My father Andrei Petrovich Grinev in his youth served under Count Minich and retired as prime minister in 17.... Since then he lived in his Simbirsk village, where he married the girl Avdotya Vasilyevna Yu., the daughter of a poor nobleman there. There were nine of us children. All my brothers and sisters died in infancy.

Mother was still pregnant with me, as I had already been enlisted in the Semenovsky regiment as a sergeant, by the grace of Guard Major Prince B., a close relative of ours.”

Then a teacher was hired for the boy French named Bop-re. He loved to drink, was “fickle and dissolute to the extreme. His main weakness was his passion for the fair sex.” But soon they had to part.

The washerwoman Palashka complained that Monsieur had seduced her. Andrei Petrovich Grinev immediately kicked him out. “That was the end of my upbringing. I lived as a teenager, chasing pigeons and playing leapfrog with the yard boys. Meanwhile, I was sixteen years old. Then my fate changed."

The father decided to send Petrusha to the service. The boy was very happy. He imagined himself as a guard officer living in St. Petersburg. But Petrusha was sent to Andrei Karlovich R., an old friend of his father, in Orenburg. Savelich went with him.

In Simbirsk, in a tavern, Peter met Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, captain of the hussar regiment. He convinced the boy that a soldier must learn to play billiards and learn to drink punch. Which is what both of them did. At the end of the game, Zurin announced to Peter that he had lost a hundred rubles. But Savelich had the money. Ivan Ivanovich agreed to wait and invited Petrusha to go to Arinushka for now.

We had dinner at Arinushka's. Peter got pretty drunk, then both returned to the tavern. And Zurin only repeated that you need to get used to the service. In the morning, Savelich reproached his owner for starting to walk too early. And then there’s the debt of a hundred rubles...

“Savelich looked at me with deep sorrow and went to collect my debt. I felt sorry for the poor old man; but I wanted to break free and prove that I was no longer a child. The money was delivered to Zurin.”

COUNSELOR

Only on the road did Peter manage to reconcile with Savelich.

And then a snowstorm overtook the travelers. Peter saw some black dot, the coachman drove the horses towards it. It turned out to be a road person. He invited everyone to go to the inn, which was located nearby. The wagon slowly began to move along the high snow. While we were driving, Petrusha had a dream that he could never forget. “It seemed to me that the storm was still raging, and we were still wandering through the snowy desert...

Suddenly I saw a gate and drove into the manor’s courtyard of our estate. My first thought was the fear that my father would be angry with me for my involuntary return to my parents’ roof and would consider it deliberate disobedience. With anxiety, I jumped out of the wagon and saw: my mother met me on the porch with an appearance of deep grief. Hush,” she tells me, “your father is sick and dying and wants to say goodbye to you.” Struck with fear, I follow her into the bedroom. I see the room is dimly lit; there are people with sad faces standing by the bed. I quietly approach the bed; Mother lifts the curtain and says: “Andrei Petrovich, Petrusha has arrived; he returned after learning about your illness; bless him." I knelt down and fixed my eyes on the patient. Well?... Instead of my father, I see a man with a black beard lying in bed, looking at me cheerfully. I turned to my mother in bewilderment, telling her: “What does this mean? This is not father. And why should I ask for a man’s blessing?” “It doesn’t matter, Petrusha,” my mother answered me, “this is your imprisoned father; kiss his hand and may he bless you...” I did not agree. Then the man jumped out of bed, grabbed the ax from behind his back and began swinging it in all directions. I wanted to run... and couldn’t; the room was filled with dead bodies; I stumbled over bodies and slid in bloody puddles... The scary man called me affectionately, saying: “Don’t be afraid, come under my blessing...” Horror and bewilderment took possession of me... And at that moment I woke up; the horses stood; Savelich tugged at my hand, saying: “Come out, sir: we’ve arrived.”

“The owner, a Yaik Cossack by birth, seemed to be a man of about sixty, still fresh and vigorous. The guide “was about forty years old, of average height, thin and broad-shouldered... His face had a rather pleasant, but roguish expression.” He visited these parts more than once. The guide and the owner began talking in thieves' jargon about the affairs of the Yaitsky army, which at that time had just been pacified after the riot of 1772. Savelich looked at his interlocutors with suspicion. The inn looked very much like a robber influx. Petrusha was only amused by this.

In the morning the storm subsided. They harnessed the horses and paid the owner. And Peter gave the guide his sheepskin coat. The tramp was extremely pleased with the gift.

Arriving in Orenburg, we went straight to the general. Tomorrow was scheduled to move to the Belogorsk fortress to Captain Mironov, a kind and honest man.

FORTRESS

The fortress was a village surrounded by a log fence. From the old captain's wife, Peter learned that officers were transferred here for indecent acts. For example, Alexey Ivanovich Shvabrin was transferred for murder. “God knows what sin befell him; As you can see, he went out of town with one lieutenant, and they took swords with them, and, well, they stabbed each other; and Alexey Ivanovich stabbed the lieutenant, and in front of two witnesses! What do you want me to do? There is no master of sin."

The constable, a young and stately Cossack, entered. Vasilisa Yegorovna asked Maksimych to give the officer a cleaner apartment.

Pyotr Andreich was taken to Semyon Kuzov. The hut stood on a high bank of the river, at the very edge of the fortress. Half of the hut was occupied by the family of Semyon Kuzov, the other was given to Peter.

In the morning Shvabrin came to Petrusha. We met. The officer told Peter about life in the fortress. The commandant invited both of them to dinner. He turned out to be a vigorous old man, tall. “A girl of about eighteen entered the room, chubby, ruddy, with light brown hair, combed smoothly behind her ears, which were on fire. At first glance I didn't really like her. I looked at her with prejudice: Shvabrin described Masha, the captain’s daughter, to me as a complete fool. At dinner they talked about how many souls Father Peter had; that the captain’s daughter Masha has only a dowry, that “a fine comb, a broom, and an altyn of money... It’s good if there is a kind person; Otherwise you’ll sit as an eternal bride among the girls.”

Marya Ivanovna blushed all over at this conversation, and even tears dripped onto her plate. Peter felt sorry for her and hastened to change the conversation.

DUEHL

Several weeks passed, and Peter got used to life in the Belogorsk fortress. In the commandant's house he was received like family. In Marya Ivanovna, the officer found a prudent and sensitive girl.

Shvabrin had several French books. Peter began to read, and a desire for literature awakened in him.

“Calm reigned around our fortress. But the peace was interrupted by sudden civil strife.”

Peter wrote a song and took it to Shvabrin, who alone in the entire fortress could appreciate such a work.

Destroying the thought of love, I strive to forget the beautiful, And ah, avoiding Masha, I think of getting freedom! But the eyes that captivated me are always before me; They confused my spirit, crushed my peace. You, having recognized my misfortunes, take pity on me, Masha, in vain for me in this fierce part, and that I am captivated by you.

Shvabrin resolutely declared that the song was not good because it resembled “love couplets.” And in the image of Masha, Shvabrin saw the captain’s daughter.

Then Shvabrin said: “...if you want Masha Mironova to come to you at dusk, then instead of tender poems, give her a pair of earrings.” This phrase completely infuriated Peter. We agreed on a duel. But Ivan Ignatich began to dissuade the young officer.

“I spent the evening, as usual, with the commandant. I tried to appear cheerful and indifferent, so as not to give any suspicion and avoid annoying questions; but I confess that I did not have that composure that those in my position almost always boast of. That evening I was in a mood for tenderness and tenderness. I liked Marya Ivanovna more than usual. The thought that maybe I see her in last time, gave her something touching in my eyes.”

Shvabrin and I agreed to fight over the stacks the next day at seven o’clock in the morning.

“We took off our uniforms, remained in only camisoles and drew our swords. At that moment, Ivan Ignatich and about five disabled people suddenly appeared from behind a stack.

He demanded us to see the commandant. We obeyed with annoyance; the soldiers surrounded us, and we went to the fortress following Ivan Ignatich, who led us in triumph, walking with amazing importance.”

Ivan Kuzmich scolded his ardent opponents. When they were left alone, Pyotr Andreich told Shvabrin that this matter would not end there.

“Return to the commandant; as usual, I sat down with Marya Ivanovna. Ivan Kuzmich was not at home; Vasilisa Egorovna was busy with housekeeping. We spoke in low voices. Marya Ivanovna tenderly reprimanded me for the anxiety caused to everyone by my quarrel with Shvabrin.”

Marya Ivanovna admitted that she liked Alexey Ivanovich Shvabrin, because he was wooing her. Then Peter realized that Shvabrin noticed their mutual sympathy and tried to distract them from each other. The very next day Alexey Ivanovich came to Peter.

We went to the river and began to fight with swords. But then Savelich’s voice was heard, Peter turned around... “At that very time, I was strongly stabbed in the chest below the right shoulder; I fell and fainted.”

LOVE

“When I woke up, I could not come to my senses for some time and did not understand what had happened to me. I lay on the bed, in an unfamiliar room, and felt very weak. Savelich stood in front of me with a candle in his hands. Someone carefully developed the slings with which my chest and shoulder were tied.”

It turned out that Peter lay unconscious for five days. Marya Ivanovna leaned towards the duelist. “I grabbed her hand and clung to her, shedding tears of tenderness. Masha didn’t tear her away... and suddenly her lips touched my cheek, and I felt their hot and fresh kiss.”

Peter asks Masha to become his wife. “Marya Ivanovna did not leave my side. Of course, at the first opportunity, I began the interrupted explanation, and Marya Ivanovna listened to me more patiently. She, without any affectation, admitted to me her heartfelt inclination and said that her parents would certainly be happy about her happiness.” But what will his parents say? Peter wrote a letter to his father.

The officer made peace with Shvabrin in the first days of recovery. Ivan Kuzmich did not punish Pyotr Andreich. And Alexei Ivanovich was put in a bakery store under guard, “until he repents.”

Finally, Peter received an answer from the priest. He was not going to give his son either his blessing or his consent. In addition, my father was going to ask for Peter’s transfer from the Belogorsk fortress somewhere far away.

But Pyotr Andreich didn’t write anything about the fight in his letter! Peter's suspicions focused on Shvabrin.

The officer went to Masha. He asked her to get married without his parents' consent, but she refused.

“Since then, my position has changed. Marya Ivanovna hardly spoke to me and tried in every possible way to avoid me. The commandant's house became hateful to me. Little by little I learned to sit alone at home. At first Vasilisa Egorovna blamed me for this; but seeing my stubbornness, she left me alone. I saw Ivan Kuzmich only when the service required it. I met Shvabrin rarely and reluctantly, especially since I noticed in him a hidden hostility towards myself, which confirmed my suspicions. My life has become unbearable for me.”

PUGACHEVSHCHINA

At the end of 1773, the Orenburg province was inhabited by many semi-savage peoples, who had recently recognized the dominion of the Russian sovereigns. “Their constant indignation, unfamiliarity with laws and civil life, frivolity and cruelty required constant supervision from the government to keep them in obedience. The fortresses were built in places considered convenient and were inhabited for the most part by Cossacks, long-time owners of the Yaik banks. But the Yaik Cossacks, who were supposed to protect the peace and security of this region, for some time were themselves restless and dangerous subjects for the government.

In 1772 there was a disturbance in their main town. The reason for this was the strict measures taken by Major General Traubenberg to bring the army to proper obedience. The consequence was the barbaric murder of Traubenberg, a willful change in government and finally the pacification of the rebellion with grapeshot and cruel punishments.”

One evening, at the beginning of October 1773, Peter was summoned to the commandant. Shvabrin, Ivan Ignatich and the Cossack constable were already there. The commandant read a letter from the general, in which it was reported that the Don Cossack and schismatic Emelyan Pugachev had escaped from the guard, “gathered a villainous gang, caused outrage in the Yaik villages and had already taken and destroyed” several fortresses, carrying out robberies and capital murders everywhere.” It was ordered to accept appropriate measures to repel the aforementioned villain and impostor, and, if possible, to his complete destruction if he turns to the fortress entrusted to your care.”

It was decided to establish guards and night watches.

Vasilisa Egorovna turned out to be unaware of the matter. She decided to find out everything from Ivan Ignatich. He let it slip. Soon everyone was talking about Pugachev.

“The commandant sent a constable with instructions to thoroughly reconnoiter everything in the neighboring villages and fortresses. The constable returned two days later and announced that in the steppe, sixty miles from the fortress, he saw many lights and heard from the Bashkirs that an unknown force was coming. However, he could not say anything positive, because he was afraid to go further.”

Yulay, a baptized Kalmyk, told the commandant that the constable’s testimony was false: “on his return, the crafty Cossack announced to his comrades that he had been with the rebels, introduced himself to their leader himself, who allowed him into his hand and talked with him for a long time. The commandant immediately put the constable under guard, and appointed Yulay in his place.” The constable escaped from the guard with the help of his like-minded people.

It became known that Pugachev was going to immediately go to the fortress and was inviting Cossacks and soldiers into his gang. It was heard that the villain had already taken possession of many fortresses.

It was decided to send Masha to Orenburg to her godmother.

ATTACK

At night the Cossacks set out from. fortress, taking Yulay with him by force. And unknown people were driving around the fortress. Marya Ivanovna did not have time to leave: the road to Orenburg was cut off; the fortress is surrounded.

Everyone went to the rampart. Masha also came - it’s worse at home alone. “...She looked at me and smiled forcefully. I involuntarily squeezed the hilt of my sword, remembering that the day before I had received it from her hands, as if to protect my beloved. My heart was burning. I imagined myself as her knight. I longed to prove that I was worthy of her trust, and began to eagerly await the decisive moment.”

Then Pugachev’s gang began to approach. “One of them held a piece of paper under his hat; the other had Yulay’s head stuck on a spear, which he shook off and threw over the palisade to us. The poor Kalmyk’s head fell at the commandant’s feet.”

Ivan Kuzmich said goodbye to his wife and daughter and blessed them. The commandant and Masha left.

The fortress was surrendered. “Pugachev was sitting in an armchair on the porch of the commandant’s house. He was wearing a red Cossack caftan trimmed with braid. A tall sable cap with golden tassels was pulled down over his sparkling eyes. His face seemed familiar to me. Cossack elders surrounded him.

Father Gerasim, pale and trembling, stood at the porch, with a cross in his hands, and seemed to silently beg him for the upcoming sacrifices. A gallows was quickly erected in the square. When we approached, the Bashkirs dispersed the people and we were introduced to Pugachev.”

Ivan Kuzmich and Ivan Ignatyich were ordered to be hanged. Shvabrin was already among the rebel elders. His head was cut into a circle, and a Cossack caftan adorned his body. He approached Pugachev and said a few words in his ear.

Pugachev, without even looking at Peter, ordered him to be hanged. The executioners dragged him to the gallows, but suddenly stopped. Savelich threw himself at Pugachev’s feet and began to ask for pardon for the pupil and promised a ransom. Pyotr Andreich was released.

Residents began to swear oaths. And then a woman’s scream was heard. Several robbers dragged Vasilisa Yegorovna onto the porch, disheveled and stripped naked. One of them had already dressed up in her warmer. Others looted the apartment. In the end, the unfortunate old woman was killed.

UNINVITED GUEST

Most of all, Peter was tormented by the unknown about the fate of Marya Ivanovna. Palashka said that Marya Ivanovna was hidden with the priest Akulina Pamfilovna. But Pugachev went there for dinner!

Peter rushed to the priest's house. From the priest he learned that Pugachev had already gone to look at his “niece,” but did nothing to her. Peter Aedreich went home. Savelich remembered why the “murderer’s” face seemed familiar to him. It was the same “drunkard who lured the sheepskin coat from you at the inn!” The hare sheepskin coat is brand new; and he, the beast, tore it open, putting it on himself!”

Peter was amazed. “I could not help but marvel at the strange combination of circumstances: a children’s sheepskin coat, given to a tramp, freed me from the noose, and a drunkard, wandering around inns, besieged fortresses and shook the state!”

“Duty demanded that I appear where my service could still be useful to the fatherland in present, difficult circumstances... But love strongly advised me to stay with Marya Ivanovna and be her protector and patron. Although I foresaw a quick and undoubted change in circumstances, I still could not help but tremble, imagining the danger of her position.”

And then one of the Cossacks came with an announcement, “that the great sovereign demands you to come to him.” He was in the commandant's house.

“An extraordinary picture presented itself to me: at a table covered with a tablecloth and set with damasks and glasses, Pugachev and about ten Cossack elders were sitting, in hats and colored shirts, flushed with wine, with red faces and shining eyes. Between them there was neither Shvabrin nor our constable, the newly recruited traitors. “Ah, your honor! - said Pugachev, seeing me. - Welcome; honor and place, you are welcome.” The interlocutors made room. I sat down silently on the edge of the table."

Peter never touched the poured wine. The conversation turned to the fact that now the gang needs to go to Orenburg. The campaign was announced for tomorrow.

Pugachev was left alone with Peter. The chieftain said that “he would not yet favor his acquaintance” if he began to serve him.

“I answered Pugachev: “Listen; I'll tell you the whole truth. Judge, can I recognize you as a sovereign? You are a smart man: you would see for yourself that I am deceitful.”

“Who am I, in your opinion?” - “God knows you; but whoever you are, you are telling a dangerous joke.” Pugachev looked at me quickly. “So you don’t believe,” he said, “that I was Tsar Pyotr Fedorovich? Well, good. Isn't there good luck for the daring? Didn’t Grishka Otrepiev reign in the old days? Think what you want about me, but don’t lag behind me. What do you care about other things? Whoever is a priest is a dad. Serve me with faith and truth, and I will make you a field marshal and a prince. How do you think?"

“No,” I answered firmly. - I am a natural nobleman; I swore allegiance to the Empress: I cannot serve you. If you really wish me well, then let me go to Orenburg.”

Pugachev was struck by Peter’s courage and sincerity. The chieftain released him on all four sides.

PARTING

“Early in the morning a drum woke me up. I went to the meeting place. There the Pugachev crowds were already forming around the gallows, where yesterday’s victims were still hanging. The Cossacks stood on horseback, the soldiers under arms. The banners fluttered. Several cannons, among which I recognized ours, were placed on traveling carriages. All the residents were there, waiting for the impostor. At the porch of the commandant's house, a Cossack was holding a beautiful white horse of the Kyrgyz breed by the bridle. I looked for the commandant's body with my eyes. It was moved a little to the side and covered with matting. Finally, Pugachev came out of the entryway. The people took off their hats. Pugachev stopped on the porch and greeted everyone. One of the elders handed him a bag of copper money, and he began to throw handfuls of them. The people rushed to pick them up screaming, and there was some injury.

Pugachev was surrounded by his main accomplices. Shvabrin stood between them.

Our eyes met; in mine he could read contempt, and he turned away with an expression of sincere anger and feigned mockery. Pugachev, seeing me in the crowd, nodded his head and called me to him.”

The ataman advised Peter to immediately go to Orenburg and announce from him to the governor and all the generals to expect Pugachev to come to them in a week. “Encourage them to meet me with childlike love and obedience; otherwise they will not be able to avoid cruel execution.”

Pugachev appointed Shvabrin as the new commander. “With horror I heard these words: Shvabrin became the commander of the fortress; Marya Ivanovna remained in his power! God, what will happen to her!

And then Savelich handed Pugachev the paper. All the things stolen by the robbers were listed there. Savelich wanted Pugachev to return the money for all this! Pyotr Andreich was afraid for the poor old man.

But “Pugachev was apparently in a fit of generosity. He turned away and drove away without saying another word. Shvabrin and the elders followed him.”

Peter hurried to the priest's house to see Marya Ivanovna. She developed a severe fever at night. She lay unconscious and delirious. The patient did not recognize her lover.

“Shvabrin tormented my imagination most of all. Invested with power from the impostor, leading the fortress where the unfortunate girl remained - the innocent object of his hatred, he could decide on anything. What was I supposed to do? How can I help her? How to free from the hands of the villain? There was only one remedy left: I decided to immediately go to Orenburg in order to hasten the liberation of the Belogorsk fortress and, if possible, assist in this. I said goodbye to the priest and Akulina Pamfilovna, eagerly entrusting to her the one whom I already considered to be my wife.”

SIEGE OF THE CITY

“Approaching Orenburg, we saw a crowd of convicts with shaved heads, with faces disfigured by the executioner’s tongs. They worked near the fortifications, under the supervision of garrison invalids. Others carried out in carts the rubbish that filled the ditch; others dug the ground with shovels; On the rampart, masons carried bricks and repaired the city wall.

At the gate the guards stopped us and demanded our passports. As soon as the sergeant heard that I was coming from the Belogorsk fortress, he took me straight to the general’s house.”

Peter told the general everything. Most of all, the old man was worried about the captain's daughter.

A council of war was appointed for the evening. "I stood up and in short words Having first described Pugachev and his gang, he said affirmatively that there was no way for the impostor to resist the right weapon.”

But no one agreed to offensive movements. It was decided to repel the siege. Long days of hunger followed.

Peter accidentally met a police officer who gave him a letter. From it, the officer learned that Shvabrin forced Gerasim’s father to hand over Masha to him, “intimidating him with Pugachev.” Now she lives in her father's house under guard. Alexey Ivanovich forces her to marry him.

“Father Pyotr Andreich! you are my only patron; intercede for poor me. Ask the general and all the commanders to send the sikurs to us as soon as possible, and come yourself if you can. I remain your humble poor orphan.

Marya Mironova."

Peter rushed to the general and began to ask for a company of soldiers to clear the Belogorsk fortress. But the old man refused.

REBEL SLOBODA

Peter decided to go to the fortress. Savelich went with him. On the way, the old man was captured by robbers. Again the travelers found themselves in the hands of Pugachev.

“A strange thought occurred to me: it seemed to me that Providence, which had led me to Pugachev for the second time, was giving me an opportunity to put my intention into action.”

Pyotr Andreich said that he wanted to free the orphan who was being abused in the Belogorsk fortress. Pugachev’s eyes sparkled, he promised to judge the offender Shvabrin. Peter said that the orphan was his bride. The chieftain became even more excited.

In the morning we harnessed the wagon and went to the Belogorsk fortress. “I remembered the reckless cruelty, the bloodthirsty habits of the one who volunteered to be the deliverer of my dear! Pugachev did not know that she was the daughter of Captain Mironov; the embittered Shvabrin could reveal everything to him; Pugachev could have discovered the truth in another way... Then what will happen to Marya Ivanovna? The cold ran through my body, and my hair stood on end...”

ORPHAN

“The carriage drove up to the porch of the commandant’s house. The people recognized Pugachev's bell and ran after us in a crowd. Shvabrin met the impostor on the porch. He was dressed as a Cossack and grew a beard. The traitor helped Pugachev to get out of the wagon, expressing his joy and zeal in vile terms.”

Shvabrin guessed that Pugachev was dissatisfied with him. He cowered in front of him, and looked at Peter incredulously. The conversation turned to Masha. “Sovereign! - he said. - You have the power to demand from me whatever you want; but do not order a stranger to enter my wife’s bedroom.” Pugachev doubted that the girl was his wife. We entered.

“I looked and froze. On the floor, in a ragged peasant dress, sat Marya Ivanovna, pale, thin, with disheveled hair. In front of her stood a jug of water, covered with a slice of bread. Seeing me, she shuddered and screamed. I don’t remember what happened to me then.”

To Pugachev’s question, Marya Ivanovna replied that Shvabrin was not her husband. The chieftain released the girl.

“Marya Ivanovna quickly looked at him and guessed that in front of her was the murderer of her parents. She covered her face with both hands and fell? feelings. I rushed to her; but at that moment my old friend Pasha very boldly entered the room and began to court her young lady. Pugachev left the room, and the three of us went into the living room.”

“What, your honor? - said Pugachev, laughing. - Rescued the red maiden! Do you think we should send for the priest and force him to marry his niece? Perhaps I will be the imprisoned father, Shvabrin’s friend; Let’s party, drink, and lock the gate!”

And then Shvabrin confessed that Masha was the daughter of Ivan Mironov, who was executed during the capture of the local fortress. But Pugachev forgave Peter for this too. He gave him a pass to all the outposts and fortresses subject to the ataman.

When Marya Ivanovna and Pyotr Andreich finally met, they began to talk about what they should do next. “It was impossible for her to remain in the fortress, subject to Pugachev and controlled by Shvabrin. It was impossible to think about Orenburg, which was undergoing all the disasters of the siege. She didn't have one in the world loved one. I suggested that she go to the village to visit my parents. At first she hesitated: my father’s well-known disposition frightened her. I calmed her down. I knew that my father would consider it a blessing and make it his duty to accept the daughter of an honored warrior who died for the fatherland.”

Pugachev and Peter parted on friendly terms.

“We approached a town where, according to the bearded commandant, there was a strong detachment going to join the impostor. We were stopped by guards. To the question: who is going? - the coachman answered loudly: “The sovereign’s godfather is with his mistress.” Suddenly a crowd of hussars surrounded us with terrible abuse. “Come out, demonic godfather! - the mustachioed sergeant told me. “Now you’ll have a bath, and with your hostess!”

I got out of the tent and demanded that they take me to their boss. Seeing the officer, the soldiers stopped cursing. The sergeant took me to the major. Savelich did not lag behind me, saying to himself: “Here is the sovereign’s godfather for you! Out of the frying pan and into the fire... O Lord! how will this all end? The carriage followed us at a step.

Five minutes later we came to a house, brightly lit. The sergeant left me on guard and went to report on me. He immediately returned, announcing to me that his nobility had no time to receive me, but that he ordered me to be taken to the prison and the hostess to be brought to him.”

Peter flew into a rage and rushed onto the porch. Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, who once beat Peter in the Simbirsk tavern, turned out to be highly honorable! They immediately made up. Zurin himself went out into the street to apologize to Marya Ivanovna in an involuntary misunderstanding and ordered the sergeant to take her the best apartment in the city. Peter stayed overnight with him and told him his adventures.

Zurin advised the old acquaintance to “get rid of” the captain’s daughter, send her to Simbirsk alone, and offered Petra to stay in his detachment.

“Although I did not entirely agree with him, I nevertheless felt that a duty of honor required my presence in the army of the empress. I decided to follow Zurin’s advice: send Marya Ivanovna to the village and stay in his detachment.”

“The next morning I came to Marya Ivanovna. I told her my assumptions. She recognized their prudence and immediately agreed with me. Zurin's detachment was supposed to leave the city on the same day. There was no point in delaying. I immediately parted with Marya Ivanovna, entrusting her to Savelich and giving her a letter to my parents. Marya Ivanovna began to cry."

In the evening we set out on a hike. “Gangs of robbers fled from us everywhere, and everything foreshadowed a quick and prosperous end. Soon, Prince Golitsyn, near the Tatishcheva fortress, defeated Pugachev, scattered his crowds, and liberated Orenburg. But still Pugachev himself was not caught. He appeared at the Siberian factories, gathered new gangs there and again began to commit villainy there with success. News arrived about the destruction of Siberian fortresses.

Soon Pugachev fled. After a while he was completely defeated, and he himself was caught.

“Zurin gave me a vacation. A few days later I was supposed to find myself again in the middle of my family, to see my Marya Ivanovna again... Suddenly an unexpected thunderstorm struck me. On the day appointed for departure, at the very moment when I was preparing to set off on the road, Zurin entered my hut, holding a paper in his hands, looking extremely preoccupied. Something pierced my heart. I was scared without knowing why. He sent my orderly away and announced that he had business with me.”

This was a secret order to all individual commanders to arrest me, wherever I was caught, and immediately send me under guard to Kazan to the Investigative Commission established in the Pugachev case. Probably a rumor about friendly relations Petra and Pugachev reached the government.

“I was sure that my unauthorized absence from Orenburg was to blame. I could easily justify myself: equestrianism was not only never prohibited, but was also encouraged by all means. I could have been accused of being too hot-tempered, not of disobedience. But my friendly relations with Pugachev could be proven by many witnesses and should have seemed at least very suspicious.”

In the Kazan fortress, Peter’s legs were chained, and then they took him to prison and left him alone in a cramped and dark kennel. The next day the prisoner was taken for interrogation. They asked about when and how the officer began to serve with Pugachev. Peter told everything as it is. And then they invited the one who accused Grinev. It turned out to be Shvabrin! “According to him, I was sent by Pugachev to Orenburg as a spy; went out every day to shootouts in order to convey written news about everything that was happening in the city; that he had finally clearly given himself over to the impostor, traveled with him from fortress to fortress, trying in every possible way to destroy his fellow traitors in order to take their places and enjoy the rewards distributed from the impostor.”

Meanwhile, Marya Ivanovna was received by the groom's parents with sincere cordiality. They soon became attached to her, because it was impossible to recognize her and not love her. “My love no longer seemed like an empty whim to my father; and mother only wanted her Petrusha to marry the captain’s sweet daughter.”

The news of their son's arrest shocked the Grinev family. But no one believed that this matter could end unfavorably. Soon the priest received a letter from St. Petersburg stating that the suspicions about Peter’s participation “in the plans of the rebels, unfortunately, turned out to be too solid that an exemplary execution should have befallen me, but that the empress, out of respect for the merits and advanced years of my father, decided to pardon criminal son and, sparing him from a shameful execution, ordered only to be exiled to the remote region of Siberia for eternal settlement.”

The old man believed that his son was a traitor. He was inconsolable. “Marya Ivanovna suffered more than anyone. Being sure that I could justify myself whenever I wanted, she guessed the truth and considered herself to be the culprit of my misfortune. She hid her tears and suffering from everyone and meanwhile constantly thought about ways to save me.”

Marya Ivanovna, Palasha and Savelich went to Sofia. In the morning, the girl in the garden accidentally met with a court lady, who began to question her about why she had come. Masha said that she was the daughter of Captain Mironov, that she had come to ask the Empress for mercy. The lady said that she happens to be at court. Then Marya Ivanovna took a folded paper out of her pocket and handed it to her unfamiliar patron, who began to read it to herself. But when the lady realized that the girl was asking for Grinev, she replied that the empress could not forgive him. But Masha tried to explain to the lady that Peter could not justify himself because he did not want to involve her in the matter. Then the stranger asked not to tell anyone about the meeting, promising that the girl would not have to wait long for an answer.

Soon the empress demanded Masha to come to court. When Masha saw the empress, she recognized her as the lady with whom she had spoken so openly in the garden! The Empress said that she was convinced of Peter’s innocence and gave a letter to his father.

“The notes of Pyotr Andreevich Grinev stop here. From family legends it is known that he was released from prison at the end of 1774, by personal order; that he was present at the execution of Pugachev, who recognized him in the crowd and nodded his head to him, which a minute later, dead and bloody, was shown to the people. Soon afterwards, Pyotr Andreevich married Marya Ivanovna. Their descendants prosper in the Simbirsk province.”

Take care of your honor from a young age.
Proverb

CHAPTER I. SERGEANT OF THE GUARD.

- Tomorrow he would be a captain of the guard.

- That’s not necessary; let him serve in the army.

- Well said! let him push...

…………………………………………….

Who's his father?

Knyazhnin.
My father Andrei Petrovich Grinev in his youth served under Count Minich, and retired as prime minister in 17.. Since then, he lived in his Simbirsk village, where he married the girl Avdotya Vasilievna Yu., the daughter of a poor nobleman there. There were nine of us children. All my brothers and sisters died in infancy.

Mother was still pregnant with me, as I had already been enlisted in the Semenovsky regiment as a sergeant, by the grace of Major of the Guard Prince B., a close relative of ours. If, beyond all hope, the mother had given birth to a daughter, then the father would have announced the death of the sergeant who had not appeared, and that would have been the end of the matter. I was considered on leave until I finished my studies. At that time, we were not brought up like today. From the age of five I was given into the hands of the eager Savelich, who was granted my uncle status for his sober behavior. Under his supervision, in my twelfth year, I learned Russian literacy and could very sensibly judge the properties of a greyhound dog. At this time, the priest hired a Frenchman for me, Monsieur Beaupré, who was discharged from Moscow along with a year's supply of wine and Provençal oil. Savelich did not like his arrival very much. “Thank God,” he grumbled to himself, “it seems the child is washed, combed, and fed. Where should we spend the extra money, and hire monsieur, as if our people were gone!”

Beaupré was a hairdresser in his homeland, then a soldier in Prussia, then he came to Russia pour Étre outchitel, not really understanding the meaning of this word. He was a kind fellow, but flighty and dissolute to the extreme. His main weakness was his passion for the fair sex; Not infrequently, for his tenderness, he received pushes, from which he groaned for whole days. Moreover, he was not (as he put it) an enemy of the bottle, that is, (speaking in Russian) he loved to drink too much. But since we only served wine at dinner, and then only in small glasses, and the teachers usually carried it around, my Beaupre very soon got used to the Russian liqueur, and even began to prefer it to the wines of his fatherland, as it was much healthier for the stomach. We hit it off immediately, and although according to the contract he was obliged to teach me French, German and all sciences, he preferred to quickly learn from me how to chat in Russian - and then each of us went about our own business. We lived in perfect harmony. I didn't want any other mentor. But soon fate separated us, and for this reason:

The washerwoman Palashka, a fat and pockmarked girl, and the crooked cowmaid Akulka somehow agreed at the same time to throw themselves at mother’s feet, blaming themselves for their criminal weakness and complaining with tears about the monsieur who had seduced their inexperience. Mother didn’t like to joke about this, and complained to the priest. His reprisal was short. He immediately demanded the Frenchman's channel. They reported that Monsieur was giving me his lesson. Father went to my room. At this time, Beaupre was sleeping on the bed in the sleep of innocence. I was busy with business. You need to know that a geographical map was issued for me from Moscow. It hung on the wall without any use and had long tempted me with the width and goodness of the paper. I decided to make snakes out of it, and taking advantage of Beaupre's sleep, I set to work. Father came in at the same time as I was adjusting the bast tail to the Cape of Good Hope. Seeing my exercises in geography, the priest pulled me by the ear, then ran up to Beaupre, woke him up very carelessly, and began to shower him with reproaches. Beaupre, in confusion, wanted to get up, but could not: the unfortunate Frenchman was dead drunk. Seven troubles, one answer. Father lifted him out of bed by the collar, pushed him out of the door, and on the same day drove him out of the yard, to Savelich’s indescribable joy. That was the end of my upbringing.

I lived as a teenager, chasing pigeons and playing chakharda with the yard boys. Meanwhile, I was sixteen years old. Then my fate changed.

One autumn, my mother was making honey jam in the living room and I, licking my lips, looked at the seething foam. Father at the window was reading the Court Calendar, which he received annually. This book always had a strong influence on him: he never re-read it without special participation, and reading this always produced in him an amazing excitement of bile. Mother, who knew by heart all his habits and customs, always tried to shove the unfortunate book as far away as possible, and thus the Court Calendar did not come into his sight sometimes for entire months. But when he found it by chance, he would not let it out of his hands for hours at a time. So the priest read the Court Calendar, occasionally shrugging his shoulders and repeating in a low voice: “Lieutenant General!.. He was a sergeant in my company!... Knight of both Russian orders!.. How long ago have we been...” Finally, the priest threw the calendar on the sofa , and plunged into reverie, which did not bode well.

Suddenly he turned to his mother: “Avdotya Vasilyevna, how old is Petrusha?”

“Yes, I’ve reached my seventeenth year,” answered my mother. - Petrusha was born in the same year that Aunt Nastasya Garasimovna became sad, and when else...

“Okay,” interrupted the priest, “it’s time for him to go into service. It’s enough for him to run around the maidens and climb dovecotes.”

The thought of imminent separation from me struck my mother so much that she dropped the spoon into the saucepan and tears streamed down her face. On the contrary, it is difficult to describe my admiration. The thought of service merged in me with thoughts of freedom, of the pleasures of St. Petersburg life. I imagined myself as a guard officer, which in my opinion was the height of human well-being.

Father did not like to change his intentions or postpone their implementation. The day for my departure was set. The day before, the priest announced that he intended to write with me to my future boss, and demanded pen and paper.

“Don’t forget, Andrei Petrovich,” said mother, “to bow to Prince B. for me; I say I hope that he will not abandon Petrusha with his favors.”

What nonsense! - answered the priest, frowning. - Why on earth would I write to Prince B.?

“But you said that you would like to write to Petrusha’s boss.”

Well, what's there?

“But the chief Petrushin is Prince B. After all, Petrusha is enrolled in the Semenovsky regiment.”

Recorded! Why do I care that it’s recorded? Petrusha will not go to St. Petersburg. What will he learn while serving in St. Petersburg? hang out and hang out? No, let him serve in the army, let him pull the strap, let him smell gunpowder, let him be a soldier, not a chamaton. Enlisted in the Guard! Where is his passport? give it here.

Mother found my passport, which was kept in her box along with the shirt in which I was baptized, and handed it to the priest with a trembling hand. Father read it with attention, placed it on the table in front of him, and began his letter.

Curiosity tormented me: where are they sending me, if not to St. Petersburg? I didn’t take my eyes off Father’s pen, which was moving quite slowly. Finally he finished, sealed the letter in the same bag with his passport, took off his glasses, and calling me over, said: “Here is a letter to Andrei Karlovich R., my old comrade and friend. You are going to Orenburg to serve under his command.”

So all my brilliant hopes were dashed! Instead of a cheerful life in St. Petersburg, boredom awaited me in a remote and remote place. The service, which I had been thinking about with such delight for a minute, seemed to me like a grave misfortune. But there was no point in arguing. The next day, in the morning, a road wagon was brought to the porch; they put a chamodan, a cellar with a tea set, and bundles of buns and pies, the last signs of home pampering. My parents blessed me. Father told me: “Goodbye, Peter. Serve faithfully to whom you pledge allegiance; obey your superiors; Don’t chase their affection; don’t ask for service; do not dissuade yourself from serving; and remember the proverb: take care of your dress when it’s new, and take care of your honor when you’re young.” Mother, in tears, ordered me to take care of my health and Savelich to look after the child. They put a bunny sheepskin coat on me, and a fox fur coat on top. I got into the wagon with Savelich and set off on the road, shedding tears.

That same night I arrived in Simbirsk, where I was supposed to stay for a day to purchase the necessary things, which was entrusted to Savelich. I stopped at a tavern. Savelich went to the shops in the morning. Bored of looking out the window at the dirty alley, I went to wander through all the rooms. Entering the billiard room, I saw a tall gentleman, about thirty-five, with a long black mustache, in a dressing gown, with a cue in his hand and a pipe in his teeth. He played with a marker, who, when he won, drank a glass of vodka, and when he lost, he had to crawl under the billiard on all fours. I started watching them play. The longer it went on, the more frequent the walks on all fours became, until finally the marker remained under the billiards. The master said several strong expressions over him in the form of a funeral word, and invited me to play a game. I refused out of incompetence. This seemed strange to him, apparently. He looked at me as if with regret; however, we started talking. I found out that his name is Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, that he is the captain of a hussar regiment and is in Simbirsk receiving recruits, and is standing in a tavern. Zurin invited me to dine with him as God sent, like a soldier. I readily agreed. We sat down at the table. Zurin drank a lot and treated me too, saying that I needed to get used to the service; he told me army jokes that almost made me laugh, and we left the table perfect friends. Then he volunteered to teach me to play billiards. “This,” he said, “is necessary for our service brother. On a hike, for example, you come to a place - what do you want to do? After all, it’s not all about beating the Jews. Involuntarily, you will go to a tavern and start playing billiards; and for that you need to know how to play!” I was completely convinced, and began to study with great diligence. Zurin loudly encouraged me, marveled at my quick success, and after several lessons, he invited me to play for money, one penny at a time, not to win, but so as not to play for nothing, which, according to him, is the worst habit. I agreed to this too, and Zurin ordered punch to be served and persuaded me to try, repeating that I needed to get used to the service; and without punch, what is the service! I listened to him. Meanwhile, our game continued. The more often I sipped from my glass, the more courageous I became. Balloons were constantly flying over my side; I got excited, scolded the marker, who counted God knows how, increased the game hour by hour, in a word, I behaved like a boy who had broken free. Meanwhile, time passed unnoticed. Zurin looked at his watch, put down his cue, and announced to me that I had lost a hundred rubles. This confused me a little. Savelich had my money. I started apologizing. Zurin interrupted me: “Have mercy! Don't worry. I can wait, but in the meantime we’ll go to Arinushka.”

What do you want? I ended the day as dissolutely as I started it. We had dinner at Arinushka's. Zurin kept adding more to me every minute, repeating that I needed to get used to the service. Getting up from the table, I could barely stand on my feet; at midnight Zurin took me to the tavern. Savelich met us on the porch. He gasped when he saw the unmistakable signs of my zeal for service. “What has happened to you, sir?” - he said in a pitiful voice, “where did you load this? Oh my goodness! Such a sin has never happened in my life!” - Shut up, you bastard! - I answered him, stammering; - You’re probably drunk, go to bed... and put me to bed.

The next day I woke up with headache, vaguely remembering yesterday's incidents. My thoughts were interrupted by Savelich, who came to me with a cup of tea. “It’s early, Pyotr Andreich,” he told me, shaking his head, “you start walking early. And who did you go to? It seems that neither the father nor the grandfather were drunkards; There’s nothing to say about my mother: from my childhood I didn’t deign to take anything into my mouth except kvass. And who is to blame for everything? damn monsieur. Every now and then, it would happen that Antipyevna would run in: “Madam, wow, vodka.” So much for you! There is nothing to say: he taught me good things, son of a dog. And it was necessary to hire an infidel as an uncle, as if the master no longer had his own people!”

I was ashamed. I turned away and told him: Get out, Savelich; I don't want tea. But it was difficult to calm Savelich down when he started preaching. “You see, Pyotr Andreich, what it’s like to cheat. And my head feels heavy, and I don’t want to eat. A person who drinks is good for nothing... Drink cucumber pickle with honey, but it would be better to get over your hangover with half a glass of tincture. Would you like to order it?”

At this time, the boy came in and gave me a note from I.I. Zurin. I unfolded it and read the following lines:

“Dear Pyotr Andreevich, please send me and my boy the hundred rubles that you lost to me yesterday. I am in dire need of money.

Ready for service

I>Ivan Zurin.”

There was nothing to do. I assumed an indifferent look, and turning to Savelich, who was a steward of money and linen and my affairs, I ordered to give the boy a hundred rubles. "How! For what?" - asked the amazed Savelich. “I owe them to him,” I answered with all possible coldness. - "Must!" - Savelich objected, more and more astonished from hour to hour; - “When, sir, did you manage to owe him? Something is wrong. It’s your will, sir, but I won’t give you any money.”

I thought that if at this decisive moment I did not overcome the stubborn old man, then in the future it would be difficult for me to free myself from his tutelage, and looking at him proudly, I said: “I am your master, and you are my servant.” The money is mine. I lost them because I felt like it. And I advise you not to be smart and do what you are ordered.

Savelich was so amazed by my words that he clasped his hands and was dumbfounded. - Why are you standing there! - I shouted angrily. Savelich began to cry. “Father Pyotr Andreich,” he said in a trembling voice, “don’t kill me with sadness. You are my light! listen to me, old man: write to this robber that you were joking, that we don’t even have that kind of money. One hundred rubles! God you are merciful! Tell me that your parents firmly ordered you not to play, except for nuts...” “Stop lying,” I interrupted sternly, “give me the money here, or I’ll kick you out.”

Savelich looked at me with deep sorrow and went to collect my debt. I felt sorry for the poor old man; but I wanted to break free and prove that I was no longer a child. The money was delivered to Zurin. Savelich hastened to take me out of the damned tavern. He came with the news that the horses were ready. With an uneasy conscience and silent repentance, I left Simbirsk, without saying goodbye to my teacher and without thinking of ever seeing him again.

CHAPTER II. COUNSELOR

Is it my side, my side,

Unfamiliar side!

Was it not I who came upon you?

Wasn’t it a good horse that brought me:

She brought me, good fellow,

Agility, brave cheerfulness,

And the tavern's hop drink.
Old song

My thoughts on the road were not very pleasant. My loss, at the prices at that time, was significant. I could not help but admit in my heart that my behavior in the Simbirsk tavern was stupid, and I felt guilty before Savelich. all this tormented me. The old man sat sullenly on the bench, turned away from me, and was silent, only quacking occasionally. I definitely wanted to make peace with him, and didn’t know where to start. Finally I told him: “Well, well, Savelich! that's enough, let's make peace, it's my fault; I see for myself that I am guilty. Yesterday I misbehaved, and I wronged you in vain. I promise to behave smarter and obey you in the future. Well, don't be angry; let's make peace."

Eh, Father Pyotr Andreich! - he answered with a deep sigh. - I’m angry with myself; It's all my fault. How could I have left you alone in the tavern! What to do? I was confused by sin: I decided to wander into the sacristan’s house and see my godfather. That's it: I went to see my godfather and ended up in prison. Trouble and nothing more! How will I show myself to the gentlemen? what will they say when they find out that the child is drinking and playing?

To console poor Savelich, I gave him my word that in future I would not dispose of a single penny without his consent. He gradually calmed down, although he still occasionally grumbled to himself, shaking his head: “A hundred rubles! Isn’t it easy!”

I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched sad deserts, intersected by hills and ravines. everything was covered with snow. The sun was setting. The carriage was traveling along a narrow road, or more precisely along a trail made by peasant sleighs. Suddenly the driver began to look to the side, and finally, taking off his hat, turned to me and said: “Master, would you order me to turn back?”

Why is this?

“Time is uncertain: the wind rises slightly; “Look how he sweeps away the powder.”

What a disaster!

“What do you see there?” (The coachman pointed his whip to the east.)

I see nothing but the white steppe and the clear sky.

“And there - there: this is a cloud.”

I actually saw a white cloud at the edge of the sky, which at first I took for a distant hill. The driver explained to me that the cloud foreshadowed a snowstorm.

I heard about the riots there, and knew that entire convoys were carried away by them. Savelich, in agreement with the driver’s opinion, advised him to turn back. But the wind did not seem strong to me; I hoped to get to the next station in time, and ordered to go quickly.

The coachman galloped off; but kept looking to the east. The horses ran together. Meanwhile, the wind became stronger hour by hour. The cloud turned into a white cloud, which rose heavily, grew, and gradually covered the sky. It began to snow lightly and suddenly began to fall in flakes. The wind howled; there was a storm. In an instant, the dark sky mixed with the snowy sea. everything disappeared. “Well, master,” the coachman shouted, “trouble: a snowstorm!”...

I looked out of the wagon: everything was darkness and whirlwind. The wind howled with such ferocious expressiveness that it seemed animated; the snow covered me and Savelich; the horses walked at a pace - and soon stopped.

- “Why aren’t you going?” - I asked the driver impatiently. - “Why go? - he answered, getting off the bench; God knows where we ended up: there is no road, and there is darkness all around. - I started to scold him. Savelich stood up for him: “And I didn’t want to listen,” he said angrily, “he would have returned to the inn, had some tea, rested until the morning, the storm would have subsided, and we would have moved on.” And where are we rushing? You’d be welcome to the wedding!“ - Savelich was right. There was nothing to do. The snow was still falling. A snowdrift was rising near the wagon. The horses stood with their heads down and occasionally shuddering. The coachman walked around, having nothing better to do, adjusting the harness. Savelich grumbled; I looked in all directions, hoping to see at least a sign of a vein or a road, but I could not discern anything except the muddy whirling of the snowblood... Suddenly I saw something black. “Hey, coachman!” I shouted, “look: what’s black there?” The coachman began to peer closely. “God knows, master,” he said, sitting down in his place: “a cart is not a cart, a tree is not a tree, but it seems to be moving.” It must be either a wolf or a man.

I ordered to go towards an unfamiliar object, which immediately began to move towards us. Two minutes later we caught up with the man. “Hey, good man!” - the coachman shouted to him. - “Tell me, do you know where the road is?”

The road is here; “I’m standing on a solid strip,” answered the roadie, “but what’s the point?”

Listen, little man, I told him, do you know this side? Will you undertake to take me to my lodging for the night?

“The side is familiar to me,” answered the traveler, “thank God, it has been traveled far and wide. Look what the weather is like: you’ll just lose your way. It’s better to stop here and wait it out, maybe the storm will subside and the sky will clear up: then we’ll find our way by the stars.”

His composure encouraged me. I had already decided, surrendering myself to God’s will, to spend the night in the middle of the steppe, when suddenly the roadman quickly sat down on the beam and said to the coachman: “Well, thank God, he lived not far away; turn right and go." - Why should I go to the right? - the driver asked with displeasure. -Where do you see the road? Probably: the horses are strangers, the collar is not yours, don’t stop driving. - The coachman seemed right to me. “Indeed,” I said, “why do you think that they lived not far away?” “But because the wind blew away,” answered the roadman, “and I heard the smell of smoke; know the village is close. “His sharpness and subtlety of instinct amazed me. I told the coachman to go. The horses tramped heavily through the deep snow. The wagon moved quietly, now driving onto a snowdrift, now collapsing into a ravine and rolling over to one side or the other. It was like sailing a ship on a stormy sea. Savelich groaned, constantly pushing against my sides. I put down the mat, wrapped myself in a fur coat and dozed off, lulled by the singing of the storm and the rolling of the quiet ride.

I had a dream that I could never forget, and in which I still see something prophetic when I consider the strange circumstances of my life with it. The reader will excuse me: for he probably knows from experience how human it is to indulge in superstition, despite all possible contempt for prejudices.

I was in that state of feelings and soul when materiality, yielding to dreams, merges with them in the unclear visions of first sleep. It seemed to me that the storm was still raging, and we were still wandering through the snowy desert... Suddenly I saw a gate and drove into the manor’s courtyard of our estate. My first thought was the fear that my father would be angry with me for my involuntary return to my parents’ roof, and would consider it deliberate disobedience. With anxiety, I jumped out of the wagon, and I saw: my mother met me on the porch with an appearance of deep grief. “Hush,” she says to me, “your father is dying and wants to say goodbye to you.” - Struck by fear, I follow her into the bedroom. I see the room is dimly lit; there are people with sad faces standing by the bed. I quietly approach the bed; Mother lifts the curtain and says: “Andrei Petrovich, Petrusha has arrived; he returned after learning about your illness; bless him." I knelt down and fixed my eyes on the patient. Well?... Instead of my father, I see a man with a black beard lying in bed, looking at me cheerfully. I turned to my mother in bewilderment, telling her: “What does this mean?” This is not father. And why should I ask a man for his blessing? “It doesn’t matter, Petrusha,” my mother answered me, “this is your imprisoned father; kiss his hand, and may he bless you...” I did not agree. Then the man jumped out of bed, grabbed the ax from behind his back, and began swinging it in all directions. I wanted to run... and couldn’t; the room was filled with dead bodies; I stumbled over bodies and slid in bloody puddles... The scary man called me affectionately, saying: “Don’t be afraid, come under my blessing...” Horror and bewilderment took possession of me... And at that moment I woke up; the horses stood; Savelich tugged at my hand, saying: “Come out, sir: we’ve arrived.”

Where have you arrived? - I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“To the inn. The Lord helped, we ran straight into a fence. Come out, sir, quickly, and warm yourself up.”

I left the tent. The storm still continued, although with less force. It was so dark that you could put out your eyes. The owner met us at the gate, holding a lantern under his skirt, and led me into the room, cramped, but quite clean; a torch illuminated her. A rifle and a tall Cossack hat hung on the wall.

The owner, a Yaik Cossack by birth, seemed to be a man of about sixty, still fresh and vigorous. Savelich brought the cellar behind me and demanded a fire to prepare tea, which I never seemed to need so much. The owner went to do some work.

Where is the counselor? I asked Savelich.

“Here, your honor,” the voice from above answered me. I looked at the Polati and saw a black beard and two sparkling eyes. - What, brother, are you cold? - “How not to vegetate in one skinny army coat? There was a sheepskin coat, but let’s be honest? laid the evening at the tsalalnik’s: the frost did not seem too great.” At that moment the owner came in with a boiling samovar; I offered our counselor a cup of tea; the man got off the floor. His appearance seemed remarkable to me: he was about forty, average height, thin and broad-shouldered. His black beard showed streaks of gray; the lively big eyes kept darting around. His face had a rather pleasant, but roguish expression. The hair was cut into a circle; he was wearing a tattered overcoat and Tatar trousers. I brought him a cup of tea; he tasted it and winced. “Your Honor, do me such a favor - order me to bring a glass of wine; tea is not our Cossack drink.” I willingly fulfilled his wish. The owner took out a damask and a glass from the stall, walked up to him, and looking into his face: “Ehe,” he said, “you’re in our land again!” Where did God bring it?” - My counselor blinked significantly and answered with a saying: “He flew into the garden and pecked hemp; Grandmother threw a pebble - yes, past. Well, what about yours?”

Yes, ours! - the owner answered, continuing the allegorical conversation. “They started ringing for vespers, but the priest didn’t say: the priest is visiting, the devils are in the graveyard.” “Be quiet, uncle,” my tramp objected, “there will be rain, there will be fungi; and if there are fungi, there will be a body. And now (here he blinked again) put the ax behind your back: the forester is walking. Your honor! for your health! - With these words, he took the glass, crossed himself and drank in one breath. Then he bowed to me and returned to the floor.

I couldn’t understand anything from this thieves’ conversation at the time, but later I guessed that it was about the affairs of the Yaitsky army, which at that time had just been pacified after the riot of 1772. Savelich listened with an air of great displeasure. He looked with suspicion first at the owner, then at the counselor. The inn, or, as they say there, the inn, was located off to the side, in the steppe, far from any settlement, and very much looked like a robber's haven. But there was nothing to do. It was impossible to even think about continuing the journey. Savelich's anxiety amused me very much. Meanwhile, I settled down for the night and lay down on a bench. Savelich decided to go to the stove; the owner lay down on the floor. Soon the whole hut was snoring, and I fell asleep like the dead.

Waking up quite late in the morning, I saw that the storm had subsided. The sun was shining. The snow lay in a dazzling veil on the vast steppe. The horses were harnessed. I paid the owner, who took such a reasonable payment from us that even Savelich did not argue with him and did not bargain as usual, and yesterday’s suspicions were completely erased from his head. I called the counselor, thanked him for his help, and told Savelich to give him half a ruble for vodka. Savelich frowned. “Half a ruble for vodka!” - he said, “what is this for? Because you deigned to give him a ride to the inn? It's your choice, sir: we don't have any extra fifty. If you give everyone vodka, you’ll soon have to starve.” I couldn't argue with Savelich. The money, according to my promise, was at his complete disposal. I was annoyed, however, that I could not thank the person who rescued me, if not from trouble, then at least from a very unpleasant situation. Okay, I said coolly; - If you don’t want to give half a ruble, then take him something from my dress. He is dressed too lightly. Give him my bunny sheepskin coat.

“Have mercy, Father Pyotr Andreich!” - said Savelich. - “Why does he need your bunny sheepskin coat? He’ll drink it, the dog, in the first tavern.”

“This, old lady, is not your sadness,” said my tramp, “whether I drink or not.” His nobility grants me a fur coat from his shoulder: it is his lordly will, and it is your serf’s business not to argue and obey.

“You are not afraid of God, robber!” - Savelich answered him in an angry voice. - “You see that the child does not understand yet, and you are glad to rob him, for the sake of his simplicity. Why do you need a master's sheepskin coat? You won’t even put it on your damned shoulders.”

Please don’t be smart,” I told my uncle; - Now bring the sheepskin coat here.

“Lord Lord!” - my Savelich groaned. - “The hare sheepskin coat is almost brand new! and it would be good for anyone, otherwise it’s a naked drunkard!”

However, the hare's sheepskin coat appeared. The man immediately began trying it on. In fact, the sheepskin coat, which I also managed to grow out of, was a little narrow for him. However, he somehow managed to put it on, tearing it apart at the seams. Savelich almost howled when he heard the threads crackle. The tramp was extremely pleased with my gift. He walked me to the tent and said with a low bow: “Thank you, your honor! God reward you for your virtue. I will never forget your mercies." - He went in his direction, and I went further, not paying attention to Savelich’s annoyance, and soon forgot about yesterday’s blizzard, about my counselor and about the hare’s sheepskin coat.

Arriving in Orenburg, I went straight to the general. I saw a man who was tall, but already hunched over with old age. Long hair his were completely white. The old faded uniform resembled a warrior from the time of Anna Ioannovna, and his speech was strongly reminiscent of a German accent. I gave him a letter from my father. At his name, he looked at me quickly: “My dear!” - he said. - “How long ago, it seems, Andrei Petrovich was even younger than your age, and now he has such a hammer ear! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” - He printed out the letter and began to read it in a low voice, making his comments. “Dear Sir Andrei Karlovich, I hope that your Excellency”... What kind of ceremony is this? Ugh, how inappropriate he is! Of course: discipline is the first thing, but is that what they write to the old comrade?.. “Your Excellency has not forgotten”... um... and... when... the late Field Marshal Min... campaign... also... Karolinka"... Ehe, brooder! So he still remembers our old pranks? “Now about business... I’ll bring my rake to you”... um... “keep a tight rein”... What are mittens? This must be a Russian proverb... What does it mean to “keep in good mittens?” he repeated, turning to me.

This means,” I answered him with an air of as much innocence as possible, “to treat him kindly, not too strictly, to give him more freedom, to keep him in check.”

“Hm, I understand... “and don’t give him free rein”... no, apparently those mittens mean the wrong thing... “At the same time... his passport”... Where is he? And, here... “write off to Semyonovsky”... Okay, okay: everything will be done... “Allow yourself to be embraced without rank and... by an old comrade and friend” - ah! finally I guessed... and so on and so forth... Well, father,” he said, having read the letter and putting my passport aside, “everything will be done: you will be transferred as an officer to the *** regiment, and so as not to waste time, then go tomorrow to the Belogorsk fortress, where you will be on the team of Captain Mironov, a kind and honest man. There you will be in real service, you will learn discipline. There is nothing for you to do in Orenburg; distraction is harmful to a young person. And today you are welcome to dine with me.”

It doesn't get any easier hour by hour! I thought to myself; What good did it serve me that even in my mother’s womb I was already a guard sergeant! Where has this got me? To the regiment and to a remote fortress on the border of the Kirghiz-Kaisak steppes!.. I dined with Andrei Karlovich, the three of us with his old adjutant. Strict German economy reigned at his table, and I think that the fear of sometimes seeing an extra guest at his single meal was partly the reason for my hasty removal to the garrison. The next day I said goodbye to the general and went to my destination.

CHAPTER III. FORTRESS.

We live in a fort

We eat bread and drink water;

And how fierce enemies

They will come to us for pies,

Let's give the guests a feast:

Let's load the cannon with buckshot.

Soldier's song.

Old people, my father.
Minor.

The Belogorsk fortress was located forty miles from Orenburg. The road went along the steep bank of the Yaik. The river had not yet frozen, and its leaden waves sadly turned black in the monotonous banks covered with white snow. Behind them stretched the Kyrgyz steppes. I plunged into thoughts, mostly sad. Garrison life had little attraction for me. I tried to imagine Captain Mironov, my future boss, and imagined him as a strict, angry old man, who knew nothing except his service, and was ready to put me under arrest for bread and water for every trifle. Meanwhile, it began to get dark. We drove pretty quickly. - How far is it to the fortress? - I asked my driver. “Not far,” he answered. - “It’s already visible.” - I looked in all directions, expecting to see formidable bastions, towers and ramparts; but I saw nothing except a village surrounded by a log fence. On one side stood three or four haystacks, half-covered with snow; on the other, a crooked mill, with its popular wings lazily lowered. -Where is the fortress? - I asked in surprise. “Yes, here it is,” answered the driver, pointing to the village, and with this word we drove into it. At the gate I saw an old cast-iron cannon; the streets were cramped and crooked; The huts are low and mostly covered with straw. I ordered to go to the commandant and a minute later the wagon stopped in front of a wooden house built on a high place, near the wooden church.

Nobody met me. I went into the hallway and opened the door to the hallway. An old invalid, sitting on a table, was sewing a blue patch onto the elbow of his green uniform. I told him to report me. “Come in, father,” the disabled man answered: “our houses.” I entered a clean room, decorated in an old-fashioned way. There was a cupboard with dishes in the corner; on the wall hung an officer's diploma behind glass and in a frame; Beside him were popular prints depicting the capture of Kistrin and Ochakov, as well as the choice of a bride and the burial of a cat. An old woman in a padded jacket and with a scarf on her head was sitting by the window. She was unwinding the threads, which were held, spread out in his arms, by a crooked old man in an officer's uniform. “What do you want, father?” - she asked, continuing her lesson. I answered that I had come to work and appeared on duty to the captain, and with this word I addressed the crooked old man, mistaking him for the commandant; but the hostess interrupted my speech. “Ivan Kuzmich is not at home,” she said; - “he went to visit Father Gerasim; It doesn’t matter, father, I’m his owner. I ask you to love and favor me. Sit down, father." She called the girl and told her to call the policeman. The old man looked at me with curiosity with his lonely eye. “I dare to ask,” he said; - “Which regiment did you deign to serve in?” I satisfied his curiosity. “And I dare to ask,” he continued, “why did you deign to move from the guard to the garrison?” - I answered that such was the will of the authorities. “Of course, for actions indecent to a guard officer,” continued the tireless questioner. “Stop lying about nonsense,” the captain’s wife told him: “you see, the young man is tired from the road; he has no time for you... (hold your hands straight...) And you, my father,” she continued, turning to me, “don’t be sad that you were relegated to our outback. You are not the first, you are not the last. He will endure it, he will fall in love. Aleksey Ivanovich Shvabrin has been transferred to us for murder for five years now. God knows what sin befell him; As you can see, he went out of town with one lieutenant, and they took swords with them, and, well, they stabbed each other; and Alexey Ivanovich stabbed the lieutenant, and in front of two witnesses! What do you want me to do? There is no master of sin."

At that moment the constable, a young and stately Cossack, entered. “Maksimych!” - the captain told him. - “Give the officer an apartment, but it’s cleaner.” “I’m listening, Vasilisa Egorovna,” answered the constable. - “Shouldn’t we place his honor with Ivan Polezhaev?” “You’re lying, Maksimych,” said the captain’s wife: “Polezhaev’s place is already crowded; He’s my godfather and remembers that we are his bosses. Take Mr. officer... what is your name and patronymic, my father? Pyotr Andreich?.. Take Pyotr Andreich to Semyon Kuzov. He, a swindler, let his horse into my garden. Well, Maksimych, is everything all right?”

“Everything, thank God, is quiet,” answered the Cossack; - only Corporal Prokhorov got into a fight in the bathhouse with Ustinya Negulina over a bunch of hot water.

“Ivan Ignatyich! - the captain said to the crooked old man. - “Sort out Prokhorov and Ustinya, who is right and who is wrong. Punish both of them. Well, Maksimych, go with God. Pyotr Andreich, Maksimych will take you to your apartment.”

I took my leave. The constable led me to a hut that stood on a high bank of the river, at the very edge of the fortress. Half of the hut was occupied by Semyon Kuzov’s family, the other was given to me. It consisted of one rather neat room, divided in two by a partition. Savelich began to manage it; I began to look out the narrow window. The sad steppe stretched out before me. Several huts stood diagonally; Several hens were wandering along the street. The old woman was standing on the porch with a trough, calling to the pigs, who answered her with a friendly grunt. And this is where I was condemned to spend my youth! Longing took me; I walked away from the window and went to bed without dinner, despite the admonitions of Savelich, who repeated with contrition: “Lord, Master! he won’t eat anything! What will the lady say if the child falls ill?

The next morning, I had just begun to get dressed when the door opened and a young officer of short stature, with a dark and distinctly ugly face, but extremely lively, came in to see me. “Excuse me,” he told me in French, “for coming to meet you without ceremony. Yesterday I learned about your arrival; The desire to finally see a human face took such hold of me that I could not stand it. You will understand this when you live here some more time.” “I guessed that it was an officer who had been discharged from the guards for the fight. We met immediately. Shvabrin was not very stupid. His conversation was witty and entertaining. With great gaiety, he described to me the commandant’s family, his society and the region where fate had brought me. I was laughing from the bottom of my heart when the same invalid who was mending his uniform in the commandant’s front room came in and called me to dine with them on behalf of Vasilisa Yegorovna. Shvabrin volunteered to go with me.

Approaching the commandant's house, we saw on the site about twenty old disabled people with long braids and triangular hats. They were lined up in front. The commandant stood in front, a cheerful old man and tall, in a cap and a Chinese robe. Seeing us, he came up to us, said a few kind words to me and began to command again. We stopped to look at the teaching; but he asked us to go to Vasilisa Yegorovna, promising to follow us. “And here,” he added, “there’s nothing for you to see.”

Vasilisa Egorovna received us easily and cordially, and treated me as if she had known her for a century. The invalid and Palashka were setting the table. “Why did my Ivan Kuzmich study like that today!” - said the commandant. - “Palashka, call the master to dinner. Where is Masha?” - Then a girl of about eighteen came in, chubby, ruddy, with light brown hair, combed smoothly behind her ears, which were on fire. At first glance I didn't really like her. I looked at her with prejudice: Shvabrin described Masha, the captain’s daughter, to me as a complete fool. Marya Ivanovna sat down in the corner and began to sew. Meanwhile, cabbage soup was served. Vasilisa Yegorovna, not seeing her husband, sent Palashka for him a second time. “Tell the master: the guests are waiting, the cabbage soup will catch a cold; thank God, the teaching will not go away; will have time to shout." - The captain soon appeared, accompanied by a crooked old man. “What is this, my father?” - his wife told him. - “The food was served a long time ago, but you can’t get enough.” “And listen, Vasilisa Egorovna,” answered Ivan Kuzmich, “I was busy with service: teaching little soldiers.”

“And, that’s enough!” - the captain objected. - “Only glory that you teach the soldiers: neither they are given the service, nor do you know anything about it. I would sit at home and pray to God; it would be better that way. Dear guests, you are welcome to the table.”

We sat down to dinner. Vasilisa Egorovna did not stop talking for a minute and showered me with questions: who are my parents, are they alive, where do they live and what is their condition? Hearing that the priest has three hundred souls of peasants, “Isn’t it easy!” - she said; - “After all, there are rich people in the world! And we, my father, have only one shower, the girl Palashka; Yes, thank God, we live small. One problem: Masha; a girl of marriageable age, what is her dowry? a fine comb, a broom, and an altyn of money (God forgive me!), with which to go to the bathhouse. It’s good if there is a kind person; Otherwise you’ll sit as an eternal bride among the girls.” - I looked at Marya Ivanovna; she turned all red, and even tears dripped onto her plate. I felt sorry for her; and I hastened to change the conversation. “I heard,” I said rather inappropriately, “that the Bashkirs are going to attack your fortress.” - “From whom, father, did you deign to hear this?” - asked Ivan Kuzmich. “That’s what they told me in Orenburg,” I answered. “Nothing!” - said the commandant. “We haven’t heard anything for a long time. The Bashkirs are a scared people, and the Kyrgyz have also been taught a lesson. Surely they won’t come at us; and if they get upset, I’ll give such a joke that I’ll calm it down for ten years.” “And you’re not afraid,” I continued, turning to the captain’s wife, “to remain in a fortress exposed to such dangers?” “It’s a habit, my father,” she answered. - “It’s been twenty years since we were transferred here from the regiment, and God forbid, how afraid I was of these damned infidels! How I used to see lynx hats, and when I heard their squealing, would you believe it, my father, my heart would skip a beat! And now I’m so used to it that I won’t even move until they come to tell us that villains are prowling around the fortress.”

Vasilisa Egorovna is a very brave lady,” Shvabrin remarked importantly. - Ivan Kuzmich can testify to this.

“Yes, hear you,” said Ivan Kuzmich: “the woman is not a timid woman.”

And Marya Ivanovna? - I asked: “Are you as brave as you?”

“Is Masha brave?” - answered her mother. - “No, Masha is a coward. He still can’t hear the shot from a gun: it just vibrates. And just as two years ago Ivan Kuzmich decided to shoot from our cannon on my name day, so she, my darling, almost went to the other world out of fear. Since then we haven’t fired the damned cannon.”

We got up from the table. The captain and captain went to bed; and I went to Shvabrin, with whom I spent the whole evening.

CHAPTER IV. DUAL.

- If you please, get into position.

Look, I'll pierce your figure!
Knyazhnin.

Several weeks passed, and my life in the Belogorsk fortress became not only bearable for me, but even pleasant. In the commandant's house I was received like family. The husband and wife were the most respectable people. Ivan Kuzmich, who became an officer from the children of soldiers, was an uneducated and simple man, but the most honest and kind. His wife managed him, which was consistent with his carelessness. Vasilisa Yegorovna looked at the affairs of the service as if they were her master’s, and ruled the fortress as accurately as she ruled her house. Marya Ivanovna soon stopped being shy with me. We met. I found in her a prudent and sensitive girl. In an imperceptible way, I became attached to the good family, even to Ivan Ignatyich, the crooked garrison lieutenant, about whom Shvabrin invented that he was in an impermissible relationship with Vasilisa Yegorovna, which did not have the slightest plausibility: but Shvabrin did not worry about that.

I was promoted to officer. The service did not burden me. In the God-saved fortress there were no inspections, no exercises, no guards. The commandant, of his own accord, sometimes taught his soldiers; but I still could not get them all to know which side was right and which was left, although many of them, so as not to be mistaken, placed the sign of the cross on themselves before each turn. Shvabrin had several French books. I began to read, and the desire for literature awakened in me. In the mornings I read, practiced translations, and sometimes wrote poetry. He almost always dined at the commandant’s, where he usually spent the rest of the day, and where in the evening Father Gerasim sometimes appeared with his wife Akulina Pamfilovna, the first messenger in the entire district. Of course, I saw A.I. Shvabrin every day; but hour by hour his conversation became less pleasant for me. I really didn’t like his usual jokes about the commandant’s family, especially his caustic remarks about Marya Ivanovna. There was no other society in the fortress, but I didn’t want anything else.

Despite the predictions, the Bashkirs were not indignant. Calm reigned around our fortress. But the peace was interrupted by a sudden civil strife.

I have already said that I studied literature. My experiments, for that time, were considerable, and Alexander Petrovich Sumarokov, several years later, praised them very much. Once I managed to write a song that I was pleased with. It is known that writers sometimes, under the guise of demanding advice, look for a favorable listener. So, having rewritten my song, I took it to Shvabrin, who alone in the entire fortress could appreciate the works of the poet. After a short introduction, I took my notebook out of my pocket and read him the following poems:

Destroying the thought of love,

I try to forget the beautiful

And oh, avoiding Masha,

I'm thinking of getting the liberty!

But the eyes that captivated me

Every minute before me;

They confused my spirit,

They destroyed my peace.

You, having learned my misfortunes,

Have pity on me, Masha;

In vain me in this fierce part,

And that I'm captivated by you.

How do you find it? - I asked Shvabrin, expecting praise, like a tribute, which was certainly due to me. But to my great chagrin, Shvabrin, usually condescending, decisively declared that my song was not good.

Why is this so? - I asked him, hiding my annoyance.

“Because,” he answered, “that such poems are worthy of my teacher, Vasily Kirilych Tredyakovsky, and very much remind me of his love couplets.”

Then he took the notebook from me and began to mercilessly analyze every verse and every word, mocking me in the most caustic way. I couldn’t stand it, I snatched my notebook from his hands and said that I would never show him my writings. Shvabrin laughed at this threat too. “Let's see,” he said, “if you keep your word: poets need a listener, like Ivan Kuzmich needs a decanter of vodka before dinner. And who is this Masha, to whom you express your tender passion and love misfortune? Isn't it Marya Ivanovna?

“It’s none of your business,” I answered, frowning, “whoever this Masha is.” I don’t ask for your opinion or your guesses.

"Wow! A proud poet and a modest lover! - Shvabrin continued, irritating me more and more hour by hour; - “but listen to some friendly advice: if you want to be on time, then I advise you not to act with songs.”

What does this mean, sir? Please explain.

“With pleasure. This means that if you want Masha Mironova to come to you at dusk, then instead of tender poems, give her a pair of earrings.”

My blood began to boil. - Why do you have such an opinion about her? - I asked, barely containing my indignation.

“And because,” he answered with a hellish grin, “I know her character and customs from experience.”

You're lying, you bastard! - I cried in rage, - you are lying in the most shameless way.

Shvabrin's face changed. “This won’t work for you,” he said, squeezing my hand. - “You will give me satisfaction.”

Please; whenever you want! - I answered, delighted. At that moment I was ready to tear him to pieces.

I immediately went to Ivan Ignatyich and found him with a needle in his hands: on instructions from the commandant, he was stringing mushrooms to dry for the winter. “Ah, Pyotr Andreich!” - he said when he saw me; - "Welcome! How did God bring you? for what purpose, may I ask?” I explained to him in short words that I had quarreled with Alexei Ivanovich, and I asked him, Ivan Ignatich, to be my second. Ivan Ignatich listened to me with attention, staring at me with his only eye. “You deign to say,” he told me, “that you want to stab Alexei Ivanovich and want me to be a witness? Is it so? I dare you to ask.”

Exactly like that.

“Have mercy, Pyotr Andreich! What are you up to! Did you and Alexey Ivanovich have a fight? Great trouble! Hard words break no bones. He scolded you, and you scold him; he hits you in the snout, and you hit him in the ear, in another, in the third - and go your separate ways; and we will make peace between you. And then: is it a good thing to stab your neighbor, I dare ask? And it would be good if you stabbed him: God be with him, with Alexei Ivanovich; I'm not a fan of it myself. Well, what if he drills you? What will it be like? Who will be the fool, dare I ask?”

The reasoning of the prudent lieutenant did not sway me. I stuck to my intention. “As you please,” said Ivan Ignatich: “do as you understand. Why should I be a witness here? Why on earth? People are fighting, what an unprecedented thing, dare I ask? Thank God, I went under the Swede and under the Turk: I’ve seen enough of everything.”

I somehow began to explain to him the position of a second, but Ivan Ignatich could not understand me. “Your will,” he said. - “If I were to intervene in this matter, would it be better to go to Ivan Kuzmich and inform him, out of duty, that a crime contrary to the government’s interests is being planned in the fort: would it not please the commandant to take appropriate measures...”

I got scared and began to ask Ivan Ignatich not to tell the commandant anything; I persuaded him by force; he gave me his word, and I decided to break it.

I spent the evening, as usual, with the commandant. I tried to appear cheerful and indifferent, so as not to give any suspicion and avoid annoying questions; but I confess that I did not have that composure that those in my position almost always boast of. That evening I was in a mood for tenderness and tenderness. I liked Marya Ivanovna more than usual. The thought that perhaps I was seeing her for the last time gave her something touching in my eyes. Shvabrin appeared immediately. I took him aside and notified him of my conversation with Ivan Ignatich. “Why do we need seconds,” he told me dryly: “we can manage without them.” We agreed to fight behind the stacks that were located near the fortress, and to appear there the next day at seven o'clock in the morning. We were talking, apparently, so friendly that Ivan Ignatich spilled the beans out of joy. “It would have been like this a long time ago,” he told me with a pleased look; - “A bad peace is better than a good quarrel, and even if it’s dishonest, it’s healthy.”

“What, what, Ivan Ignatich?” - said the commandant, who was telling fortunes with cards in the corner: “I didn’t listen.”

Ivan Ignatich, noticing signs of displeasure in me and remembering his promise, became embarrassed and did not know what to answer. Shvabrin came to his aid.

“Ivan Ignatich,” he said, “approves of our world.”

And with whom, my father, were you quarreling? "

“We had a pretty big argument with Pyotr Andreich.”

Why is this so?

“For a mere trifle: for a song, Vasilisa Egorovna.”

We found something to quarrel about! for the song!... how did this happen?

“Well, here’s how: Pyotr Andreich recently composed a song and today he sang it in front of me, and I began to sing my favorite:

Captain's daughter

Don't go out at midnight.

There was a discord. Pyotr Andreich became angry; but then I decided that everyone is free to sing whatever they want. That was the end of the matter.”

Shvabrin's shamelessness almost enraged me; but no one except me understood his crude innuendos; at least no one paid attention to them. From the songs the conversation turned to poets, and the commandant noticed that they were all dissolute people and bitter drunkards, and he friendly advised me to leave poetry, as something contrary to the service and leading to nothing good.

Shvabrin's presence was unbearable to me. I soon said goodbye to the commandant and his family; I came home, examined my sword, tried its end, and went to bed, ordering Savelich to wake me up at seven o’clock.

The next day, at the appointed time, I was already standing behind the stacks, waiting for my opponent. Soon he appeared. “They might catch us,” he told me; - “we must hurry.” We took off our uniforms, remained in only camisoles and drew our swords. At that moment, Ivan Ignatich and about five disabled people suddenly appeared from behind a stack. He demanded us to see the commandant. We obeyed with annoyance; the soldiers surrounded us, and we went to the fortress following Ivan Ignatich, who led us in triumph, walking with amazing importance.

We entered the commandant's house. Ivan Ignatich opened the doors, solemnly proclaiming “brought!” Vasilisa Egorovna met us. “Oh, my fathers! What does it look like? How? What? start a murder in our fortress! Ivan Kuzmich, they are now under arrest! Pyotr Andreich! Alexey Ivanovich! bring your swords here, bring them, bring them. Broadsword, take these swords to the closet. Pyotr Andreich! I didn't expect this from you. How are you not ashamed? Good Alexey Ivanovich: he was discharged from the guard for murder and murder, he doesn’t even believe in God; and what about you? Is that where you’re going?”

Ivan Kuzmich completely agreed with his wife and said: “And listen, Vasilisa Yegorovna is telling the truth. Fights are formally prohibited in the military article.” Meanwhile, Palashka took our swords from us and took them to the closet. I couldn't help but laugh. Shvabrin retained his importance. “With all due respect to you,” he told her calmly, “I cannot help but notice that you are in vain deigning to worry by subjecting us to your judgment. Leave it to Ivan Kuzmich: it’s his business.” - Ah! my father! - the commandant objected; - aren’t husband and wife one spirit and one flesh? Ivan Kuzmich! Why are you yawning? Now seat them in different corners on bread and water so that their stupidity will go away; Yes, let Father Gerasim impose penance on them, so that they pray to God for forgiveness and repent before people.

Ivan Kuzmich did not know what to decide. Marya Ivanovna was extremely pale. Little by little the storm subsided; The commandant calmed down and made us kiss each other. Broadsword brought us our swords. We left the commandant apparently reconciled. Ivan Ignatich accompanied us. “Aren’t you ashamed,” I told him angrily, “to report us to the commandant after they gave me their word not to do it?” - “As God is holy, I didn’t tell Ivan Kuzmich that,” he answered; - “Vasilisa Egorovna found out everything from me. She ordered everything without the knowledge of the commandant. However, thank God that it all ended like this.” With this word he turned home, and Shvabrin and I were left alone. “Our business cannot end like this,” I told him. “Of course,” answered Shvabrin; - “You will answer me with your blood for your insolence; but they will probably keep an eye on us. We'll have to pretend for a few days. Goodbye!" - And we parted as if nothing had happened.

Returning to the commandant, I, as usual, sat down next to Marya Ivanovna. Ivan Kuzmich was not at home; Vasilisa Egorovna was busy with housekeeping. We spoke in low voices. Marya Ivanovna tenderly reprimanded me for the anxiety caused to everyone by my quarrel with Shvabrin. “I just froze,” she said, “when they told us that you intended to fight with swords. How strange men are! For one word, which they would surely forget about in a week, they are ready to cut themselves and sacrifice not only their lives, but also the conscience and well-being of those who... But I am sure that you are not the instigator of the quarrel. Alexey Ivanovich is truly to blame.”

Why do you think so, Marya Ivanovna? "

“Yes, so... he is such a mocker! I don't like Alexey Ivanovich. He disgusts me very much; But it’s strange: I wouldn’t want him to like me just as much. It would be fear that would bother me.”

What do you think, Marya Ivanovna? Does he like you or not?

Marya Ivanovna stuttered and blushed. “I think,” she said, “I think I like you.”

Why do you think so?

“Because he wooed me.”

Wooed! Did he marry you? When? "

"Last year. Two months before your arrival.”

And you didn't go?

“As you please see. Alexey Ivanovich, of course, is a smart man, has a good family name, and has a fortune; but when I think that it will be necessary to kiss him under the aisle in front of everyone... No way! not for any well-being!”

Marya Ivanovna’s words opened my eyes and explained a lot to me. I understood the persistent slander with which Shvabrin pursued her. He probably noticed our mutual inclination and tried to distract us from each other. The words that gave rise to our quarrel seemed even more vile to me when, instead of rude and obscene ridicule, I saw in them deliberate slander. The desire to punish the impudent evil-tonguer became even stronger in me, and I began to eagerly await the opportunity.

I didn't wait long. The next day, when I was sitting at my elegy and gnawing my pen in anticipation of a rhyme, Shvabrin knocked under my window. I left the pen, took the sword and went out to him. “Why put it off?” - Shvabrin told me: “They’re not watching us. Let's go to the river. No one will bother us there." We set off in silence. Having gone down a steep path, we stopped right next to the river and drew our swords. Shvabrin was more skilled than me, but I am stronger and braver, and Monsieur Beaupre, who was once a soldier, gave me several lessons in fencing, which I took advantage of. Shvabrin did not expect to find such a dangerous opponent in me. For a long time we could not do each other any harm; Finally, noticing that Shvabrin was weakening, I began to attack him with alacrity and drove him almost into the river. Suddenly I heard my name spoken loudly. I looked back and saw Savelich running down the mountain path towards me……. At this very time I was stabbed strongly in the chest below my right shoulder; I fell and fainted.

CHAPTER V. LOVE.

Oh you girl, you red girl!

Don’t go, girl, you’re young to get married;

You ask, girl, father, mother,

Father, mother, clan-tribe;

Save up your mind, girl,

Mind-blowing, dowry.

Folk song.

If you find me better, you will forget.

If you find me worse, you will remember.

Same.
When I woke up, I could not come to my senses for some time and did not understand what had happened to me. I lay on the bed, in an unfamiliar room, and felt very weak. Savelich stood in front of me with a candle in his hands. Someone carefully developed the slings with which my chest and shoulder were tied. Little by little my thoughts became clearer. I remembered my fight and guessed that I was wounded. At that moment the door creaked open. "What? what?" - said a voice in a whisper, which made me tremble. “Everything is in the same position,” Savelich answered with a sigh; - everyone is without memory, this is already the fifth day. “I wanted to turn around, but I couldn’t.” - Where am I? who's here? - I said with effort. Marya Ivanovna came up to my bed and leaned towards me. "What? How are you feeling?" - she said. “Thank God,” I answered in a weak voice. - Is it you, Marya Ivanovna? tell me... - I was unable to continue and fell silent. Savelich gasped. Joy appeared on his face. “I came to my senses! I came to my senses!” - he repeated. - “Glory to you, lord! Well, Father Pyotr Andreich! you scared me! Is it easy? fifth day!.. Marya Ivanovna interrupted his speech. “Don’t talk to him much, Savelich,” she said. - “He’s still weak.” She went out and quietly closed the door. My thoughts were worried. And so I was in the commandant’s house, Marya Ivanovna came in to see me. I wanted to ask Savelich some questions, but the old man shook his head and covered his ears. I closed my eyes in annoyance and soon fell asleep.

When I woke up, I called Savelich, and instead of him I saw Marya Ivanovna in front of me; her angelic voice greeted me. I cannot express the sweet feeling that took possession of me at that moment. I grabbed her hand and clung to it, shedding tears of tenderness. Masha did not tear her away... and suddenly her lips touched my cheek, and I felt their hot and fresh kiss. Fire ran through me. “Dear, kind Marya Ivanovna,” I told her, “be my wife, agree to my happiness.” - She came to her senses. “For God’s sake, calm down,” she said, taking her hand away from me. - “You are still in danger: the wound may open. Save yourself at least for me." With that word she left, leaving me in a rapture of delight. Happiness resurrected me. She will be mine! she loves me! This thought filled my entire existence.

From then on, I got better hour by hour. I was treated by the regimental barber, for there was no other doctor in the fortress, and, thank God, he did not act clever. Youth and nature hastened my recovery. the commandant's entire family looked after me. Marya Ivanovna did not leave my side. Of course, at the first opportunity, I began the interrupted explanation, and Marya Ivanovna listened to me more patiently. Without any affectation, she confessed to me her heartfelt inclination and said that her parents would certainly be happy about her happiness. “But think carefully,” she added: “won’t there be any obstacles from your relatives?”

I thought about it. I had no doubt about my mother’s tenderness; but, knowing my father’s character and way of thinking, I felt that my love would not touch him too much, and that he would look at it as a whim young man. I sincerely admitted this to Marya Ivanovna, and nevertheless decided to write to my father as eloquently as possible, asking for my parent’s blessing. I showed the letter to Marya Ivanovna, who found it so convincing and touching that she had no doubt about its success, and surrendered to the feelings of her tender heart with all the trustfulness of youth and love.

I made peace with Shvabrin in the first days of my recovery. Ivan Kuzmich, reprimanding me for the fight, told me: “Eh, Pyotr Andreich! I should have put you under arrest, but you are already punished. And Alexey Ivanovich is still sitting in the bread store under guard, and Vasilisa Yegorovna has his sword under lock and key. Let him make up his mind and repent.” “I was too happy to keep a feeling of hostility in my heart.” I began to plead for Shvabrin, and the good commandant, with the consent of his wife, decided to release him. Shvabrin came to me; he expressed deep regret for what happened between us; admitted that he was all to blame and asked me to forget about the past. Being by nature not vindictive, I sincerely forgave him both our quarrel and the wound I received from him. In his slander I saw the chagrin of wounded pride and rejected love, and I generously excused my unfortunate rival.

I soon recovered and was able to move to my apartment. I eagerly awaited an answer to the letter sent, not daring to hope, and trying to drown out sad forebodings. I have not yet explained to Vasilisa Egorovna and her husband; but my proposal should not have surprised them. Neither I nor Marya Ivanovna tried to hide our feelings from them, and we were already sure of their agreement in advance.

Finally, one morning Savelich came in to see me, holding a letter in his hands. I grabbed it with trepidation. The address was written by the priest's hand. This prepared me for something important, because my mother usually wrote letters to me, and he added a few lines at the end. For a long time I did not open the package and re-read the solemn inscription: “To my son Pyotr Andreevich Grinev, to the Orenburg province, to the Belogorsk fortress.” I tried to guess from the handwriting the mood in which the letter was written; I finally decided to print it out, and from the first lines I saw that the whole thing had gone to hell. The contents of the letter were as follows:

“My son Peter! We received your letter, in which you ask us for our parental blessing and consent to marry Marya Ivanovna’s daughter Mironova, on the 15th of this month, and not only do I not intend to give you either my blessing or my consent, but I also intend to to get to you, and for your pranks to teach you a lesson like a boy, despite your officer rank: for you have proven that you are still unworthy of wearing a sword, which was granted to you for the defense of the fatherland, and not for duels with the same tomboys as you myself. I will immediately write to Andrei Karlovich, asking him to transfer you from the Belogorsk fortress somewhere further away, where your nonsense will go away. Your mother, having learned about your fight and that you were wounded, fell ill with grief and is now lying down. What will you become? I pray to God that you will improve, although I do not dare hope for his great mercy.

Your father A.G.”

Reading this letter aroused different feelings in me. The cruel expressions, which the priest did not skimp on, deeply offended me. The disdain with which he mentioned Marya Ivanovna seemed to me as obscene as it was unfair. The thought of my transfer from the Belogorsk fortress terrified me; But what saddened me most was the news of my mother’s illness. I was indignant at Savelich, having no doubt that my fight became known to my parents through him. Walking back and forth in my cramped room, I stopped in front of him and said, looking at him menacingly: “Apparently you are not happy that, thanks to you, I was wounded and was on the edge of the grave for a whole month: you want to kill my mother too.” - Savelich was struck like thunder. “Have mercy, sir,” he said, almost bursting into tears, “what do you want to say? I'm the reason you were hurt! God knows, I ran to shield you with my chest from Alexei Ivanovich’s sword! Damn old age got in the way. What did I do to your mother?” - What did you do? - I answered. -Who asked you to write denunciations against me? Are you assigned to be my spy? - "I? wrote denunciations against you?” - Savelich answered with tears. - “Lord to the king of heaven! So please read what the master writes to me: you will see how I denounced you.” Then he took a letter out of his pocket, and I read the following:

“Shame on you, old dog, that you, despite my strict orders, did not inform me about my son Pyotr Andreevich and that strangers are forced to notify me of his mischief. Is this how you fulfill your position and the will of your master? I love you, old dog! I will send pigs to graze for hiding the truth and conniving with the young man. Having received this, I order you to immediately write to me about his health now, about which they write to me that he has recovered; and where exactly was he wounded and whether he was well treated.”

It was obvious that Savelich was right in front of me and that I needlessly insulted him with reproach and suspicion. I asked him for forgiveness; but the old man was inconsolable. “This is what I have lived to see,” he repeated; - “These are the favors he received from his masters! I am an old dog and a swineherd, and am I also the cause of your wound? No, Father Pyotr Andreich! It’s not me, the damned monsieur, who is to blame for everything: he taught you to poke and stomp with iron skewers, as if by poking and stomping you can protect yourself from an evil person! It was necessary to hire a monsieur and spend extra money!”

But who took the trouble to notify my father about my behavior? General? But he didn't seem to care much about me; and Ivan Kuzmich did not consider it necessary to report on my fight. I was at a loss. My suspicions settled on Shvabrin. He alone had the benefit of denunciation, the consequence of which could have been my removal from the fortress and a break with the commandant’s family. I went to announce everything to Marya Ivanovna. She met me on the porch. “What happened to you?” - she said when she saw me. - “How pale you are!” - it's all over! - I answered and gave her my father’s letter. She turned pale in turn. Having read it, she returned the letter to me with a trembling hand and said in a trembling voice: “Apparently it’s not my fate... Your relatives don’t want me into their family. Let the Lord's will be in everything! God knows better than we do what we need. There is nothing to do, Pyotr Andreich; At least be happy..." - This will not happen! - I cried, grabbing her hand; - you love me; I'm ready for anything. Let's go, let's throw ourselves at the feet of your parents; they are simple people, not hard-hearted and proud... They will bless us; we will get married... and then in time, I am sure, we will beg my father; mother will be for us; he will forgive me... “No, Pyotr Andreich,” answered Masha, “I will not marry you without the blessing of your parents. Without their blessing you will not be happy. Let us submit to the will of God. If you find yourself a betrothed, if you fall in love with another, God be with you, Pyotr Andreich; and I am for both of you...” Then she began to cry and left me; I wanted to follow her into the room, but I felt that I was unable to control myself, and I returned home.

I was sitting immersed in deep thought, when suddenly Savelich interrupted my thoughts. “Here, sir,” he said, handing me a sheet of paper covered in writing; “See if I’m an informer on my master, and if I’m trying to mess up my son and father.” I took the paper from his hands: it was Savelich’s response to the letter he had received. Here it is word by word:

“Sovereign Andrei Petrovich, our gracious father!

I received your gracious writing, in which you deign to be angry with me, your servant, that I am ashamed not to carry out my master’s orders; - and I, not an old dog, but your faithful servant, obey the master’s orders and have always served you diligently and lived to see my gray hair. I didn’t write anything to you about Pyotr Andreich’s wound, so as not to scare you unnecessarily, and, I hear, the lady, our mother Avdotya Vasilyevna, already fell ill with fright, and I will pray to God for her health. And Pyotr Andreich was wounded under right shoulder, right to the bone in the chest, an inch and a half deep, and he lay in the commandant’s house, where we brought him from the shore, and was treated by the local barber Stepan Paramonov; and now Pyotr Andreich, thank God, is healthy, and there is nothing but good things to write about him. The commanders are heard to be pleased with him; and to Vasilisa Yegorovna he is like his own son. And that such an accident happened to him, it’s not a reproach for the fellow: the horse has four legs, but it stumbles. And you deign to write that you will send me to herd pigs, and that is your boyar will. For this I bow slavishly.

Your faithful servant

Arkhip Savelyev."

I couldn’t help but smile several times while reading the good old man’s letter. I was unable to answer the priest; and Savelich’s letter seemed to me sufficient to calm my mother down.

Since then my position has changed. Marya Ivanovna hardly spoke to me, and tried in every possible way to avoid me. The commandant's house became hateful to me. Little by little I learned to sit alone at home. At first Vasilisa Egorovna blamed me for this; but seeing my stubbornness, she left me alone. I saw Ivan Kuzmich only when the service required it. I met Shvabrin rarely and reluctantly, especially since I noticed in him a hidden hostility towards myself, which confirmed my suspicions. My life has become unbearable for me. I fell into a gloomy reverie, fueled by loneliness and inaction. My love flared up in solitude and hour by hour it became more painful for me. I lost the desire for reading and literature. My spirit fell. I was afraid of either going crazy or falling into debauchery. Unexpected events that had an important influence on my whole life suddenly gave my soul a strong and beneficial shock.

CHAPTER VI. PUGACHEVSHCHINA.

You young guys, listen up

What will we old men say?
Song.

Before I begin to describe the strange incidents that I witnessed, I must say a few words about the situation in which the Orenburg province was at the end of 1773.

This vast and rich province was inhabited by many semi-savage peoples who had recently recognized the dominion of the Russian sovereigns. Their constant indignation, unfamiliarity with laws and civil life, frivolity and cruelty required constant supervision from the government to keep them in obedience. The fortresses were built in places considered convenient and were inhabited for the most part by Cossacks, long-time owners of the Yaitsky banks. But the Yaik Cossacks, who were supposed to protect the peace and security of this region, for some time were themselves restless and dangerous subjects for the government. In 1772 there was a disturbance in their main town. The reason for this was the strict measures taken by Major General Traubenberg to bring the army to proper obedience. The consequence was the barbaric murder of Traubenberg, a willful change in government, and finally the pacification of the riot with grapeshot and cruel punishments. This happened some time before my arrival at the Belogorsk fortress. everything was already quiet, or seemed so; the authorities too easily believed the imaginary repentance of the crafty rebels, who were angry in secret and were waiting for an opportunity to renew the unrest.

I turn to my story.

One evening (it was at the beginning of October 1773) I was sitting at home alone, listening to the howl of the autumn wind, and looking out the window at the clouds running past the moon. They came to call me on behalf of the commandant. I set off immediately. At the commandant's I found Shvabrin, Ivan Ignatich and a Cossack constable. There was neither Vasilisa Egorovna nor Marya Ivanovna in the room. The commandant greeted me with a concerned look. He locked the doors, sat everyone down, except for the policeman, who stood at the door, took a paper out of his pocket and told us: “Gentlemen officers, important news! Listen to what the general writes." Then he put on his glasses and read the following:

“To Mr. Commandant of the Belogorsk Fortress, Captain Mironov.

“In secret.

“I hereby inform you that the Don Cossack and schismatic Emelyan Pugachev, who escaped from the guard, committed unforgivable insolence by taking on the name of the late Emperor Peter III, gathered a villainous gang, caused outrage in the Yaitsky villages, and has already taken and destroyed several fortresses, causing destruction everywhere robberies and capital murders. For this reason, having received this, you have, Mr. Captain, to immediately take appropriate measures to repel the aforementioned villain and impostor, and, if possible, to completely destroy him if he turns to the fortress entrusted to your care.”

“Take proper action!” - said the commandant, taking off his glasses and folding the paper. - “Listen, it’s easy to say. The villain is clearly strong; and we have only one hundred and thirty people, not counting the Cossacks, for whom there is little hope, no matter how much it’s said to you, Maksimych. (The officer grinned.) However, there is nothing to be done, gentlemen officers! Be good, establish guards and night watches; in case of attack, lock the gates and remove the soldiers. You, Maksimych, take good care of your Cossacks. Inspect the gun and clean it thoroughly. And most of all, keep all this secret, so that no one in the fortress can find out about it prematurely.”

Having given these orders, Ivan Kuzmich dismissed us. I went out with Shvabrin, discussing what we had heard. - How do you think this will end? - I asked him. “God knows,” he answered; - "We'll see. I don’t see anything important yet. If…” Then he became thoughtful and absent-mindedly began whistling a French aria.

Despite all our precautions, the news of Pugachev’s appearance spread throughout the fortress. Ivan Kuzmich, although he respected his wife very much, would never have told her the secret entrusted to him in his service. Having received a letter from the general, he quite skillfully sent Vasilisa Yegorovna away, telling her that Father Gerasim had received some wonderful news from Orenburg, which he contained in great secret. Vasilisa Egorovna immediately wanted to go visit the priest and, on the advice of Ivan Kuzmich, she took Masha with her so that she would not be bored alone.

Ivan Kuzmich, remaining the complete master, immediately sent for us, and locked Palashka in a closet so that she could not overhear us.

Vasilisa Egorovna returned home without having time to learn anything from the priest, and found out that during her absence Ivan Kuzmich had a meeting and that Palashka was under lock and key. She realized that she had been deceived by her husband and began interrogating him. But Ivan Kuzmich prepared for an attack. He was not at all embarrassed and cheerfully answered his curious roommate: “And you hear, mother, our women have decided to heat the stoves with straw; and as misfortune could result from this, I gave a strict order from now on to the women not to heat the stoves with straw, but to heat them with brushwood and dead wood.” - Why did you have to lock Palashka? - asked the commandant. - Why did the poor girl sit in the closet until we returned? - Ivan Kuzmich was not prepared for such a question; he became confused and muttered something very awkward. Vasilisa Egorovna saw her husband’s deceit; but knowing that she would get nothing out of him, she stopped her questions and started talking about pickles, which Akulina Pamfilovna prepared in a very special way. All night Vasilisa Yegorovna could not sleep, and could not guess what was in her husband’s head that she could not know about.

The next day, returning from mass, she saw Ivan Ignatich, who was pulling out of the cannon rags, pebbles, chips, money and all kinds of rubbish that the children had stuffed into it. “What would these military preparations mean?” - thought the commandant: - “Aren’t they expecting an attack from the Kyrgyz people? But would Ivan Kuzmich really hide such trifles from me?” She called Ivan Ignatich, with the firm intention of finding out from him the secret that tormented her ladylike curiosity.

Vasilisa Yegorovna made several comments to him regarding the household, like a judge starting an investigation with extraneous questions in order to first lull the defendant’s caution. Then, after being silent for several minutes, she took a deep breath and said, shaking her head: “My God! Look what news! What will happen from this?

And, mother! - answered Ivan Ignatich. - God is merciful: we have enough soldiers, a lot of gunpowder, I cleaned the cannon. Maybe we’ll fight back against Pugachev. The Lord will not betray you, the pig will not eat you!

“What kind of person is this Pugachev?” - asked the commandant.

Then Ivan Ignatich noticed that he had let it slip and bit his tongue. But it was already too late. Vasilisa Yegorovna forced him to confess everything, giving him his word not to tell anyone about it.

Vasilisa Yegorovna kept her promise and did not say a single word to anyone except the priest, and that was only because her cow still walked in the steppe and could be captured by the villains.

Soon everyone was talking about Pugachev. The rumors were different. The commandant sent a constable with instructions to thoroughly reconnoiter everything in the neighboring villages and fortresses. The constable returned two days later and announced that in the steppe, sixty miles from the fortress, he saw many lights and heard from the Bashkirs that an unknown force was coming. However, he could not say anything positive, because he was afraid to go further.

In the fortress, extraordinary excitement became noticeable between the Cossacks; in all the streets they crowded into groups, talked quietly among themselves, and dispersed when they saw a dragoon or a garrison soldier. Spies were sent to them. Yulay, a baptized Kalmyk, made an important report to the commandant. The sergeant’s testimony, according to Yulay, was false: upon his return, the crafty Cossack announced to his comrades that he had been with the rebels, introduced himself to their leader himself, who allowed him into his hand and talked with him for a long time. The commandant immediately put the constable under guard, and appointed Yulay in his place. This news was received by the Cossacks with obvious displeasure. They grumbled loudly, and Ivan Ignatich, the executor of the commandant’s order, heard with his own ears how they said: “This will happen to you, garrison rat!” The commandant thought to interrogate his prisoner that same day; but the constable escaped from the guard, probably with the help of his like-minded people.

The new circumstance increased the commandant's anxiety. A Bashkir was captured with outrageous sheets. On this occasion, the commandant thought about gathering his officers again, and for this purpose he wanted to remove Vasilisa Yegorovna again under a plausible pretext. But since Ivan Kuzmich was the most straightforward and truthful person, he did not find any other method other than the one he had already used once.

“Listen, Vasilisa Egorovna,” he told her, coughing. - “Father Gerasim received, they say, from the city...” “Stop lying, Ivan Kuzmich,” the commandant interrupted; You, I know, want to hold a meeting and talk about Emelyan Pugachev without me; you won't be fooled! - Ivan Kuzmich widened his eyes. “Well, mother,” he said, “if you already know everything, then perhaps stay; We’ll talk in front of you too.” “That’s it, my dad,” she answered; - it’s not for you to be cunning; send for the officers.

We gathered again. Ivan Kuzmich, in the presence of his wife, read to us Pugachev’s appeal, written by some semi-literate Cossack. The robber announced his intention to immediately march on our fortress; he invited Cossacks and soldiers into his gang, and exhorted the commanders not to resist, threatening execution otherwise. The appeal was written in rude but strong terms, and was intended to make a dangerous impression on the minds of ordinary people.

“What a fraud!” - exclaimed the commandant. - “What else does he dare offer us? Go out to meet him and lay banners at his feet! Oh he's a son of a dog! But doesn’t he know that we’ve been in the service for forty years and, thank God, we’ve seen enough? Are there really any commanders who listened to the robber?”

It seems that it shouldn’t,” answered Ivan Kuzmich. - And I hear that the elodea has taken possession of many fortresses. "

“Apparently he is really strong,” noted Shvabrin.

But now we’ll find out his real strength,” said the commandant. - Vasilisa Egorovna, give me the key to the barn. Ivan Ignatich, bring the Bashkir and order Yulay to bring whips here.

“Wait, Ivan Kuzmich,” said the commandant, getting up from her seat. - “Let me take Masha somewhere out of the house; otherwise he will hear a scream and get scared. And, to tell the truth, I’m not a huntress. Happy stay."

Torture, in the old days, was so rooted in the customs of legal proceedings that the beneficent decree that abolished it remained for a long time without any effect. They thought that the criminal’s own confession was necessary for his complete exposure - an idea that is not only unfounded, but even completely contrary to common legal sense: for if the defendant’s denial is not accepted as proof of his innocence, then his confession, even less, should be proof of his guilt. Even now I happen to hear old judges regretting the destruction of the barbaric custom. In our time, no one doubted the need for torture, neither judges nor defendants. So the commandant’s order did not surprise or alarm any of us. Ivan Ignatich went for the Bashkir, who was sitting in the barn under the key of the commandant, and a few minutes later the slave was brought into the hall. The commandant ordered him to be presented to him.

The Bashkir stepped with difficulty over the threshold (he was in the stocks) and, taking off his high hat, stopped at the door. I looked at him and shuddered. I will never forget this man. He seemed to be over seventy years old. He had neither a nose nor ears. His head was shaved; instead of a beard, several gray hairs stuck out; he was short, skinny and hunched over; but his narrow eyes still sparkled with fire. - “Ehe!” - said the commandant, recognizing, by his terrible signs, one of the rebels punished in 1741. - “Yes, you’re obviously an old wolf, you’ve been in our traps. It’s not the first time you’ve rebelled, since your head is so smoothly planed. Come a little closer; tell me, who sent you?”

The old Bashkir was silent and looked at the commandant with an air of complete senselessness. “Why are you silent?” - continued Ivan Kuzmich: - “or don’t you understand belmes in Russian? Yulay, ask him, in your opinion, who sent him to our fortress?”

Yulay repeated Ivan Kuzmich’s question in Tatar. But the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression and did not answer a word.

“Yakshi,” said the commandant; - “You will talk to me.” Guys! take off his stupid striped robe and stitch his back. Look, Yulay: give him a good time!”

Two disabled people began to undress the Bashkir. The unfortunate man's face showed concern. He looked around in all directions, like an animal caught by children. When one of the disabled people took his hands and, putting them near his neck, lifted the old man onto his shoulders, and Yulay took the whip and swung it: then the Bashkir groaned in a weak, pleading voice and, nodding his head, opened his mouth, in which instead of a tongue, a short stump.

When I remember that this happened in my lifetime, and that I have now lived to see the meek reign of Emperor Alexander, I cannot help but be amazed at the rapid successes of enlightenment and the spread of the rules of philanthropy. Young man! If my notes fall into your hands, remember that the best and most lasting changes are those that come from improving morals, without any violent upheavals.

Everyone was amazed. “Well,” said the commandant; - “It looks like we can’t get any sense from him. Yulay, take the Bashkir to the barn. And we, gentlemen, will talk about something else.”

We began to talk about our situation, when suddenly Vasilisa Yegorovna entered the room, out of breath and looking extremely alarmed.

“What happened to you?” - asked the amazed commandant.

“Fathers, trouble!” answered Vasilisa Egorovna. - Nizhneozernaya was taken this morning. Gerasim's father's worker has now returned from there. He saw how they took her. The commandant and all the officers were hanged. All soldiers have been captured. Just look, the villains will be here.

The unexpected news shocked me greatly. The commandant of the Nizhneozernaya fortress, a quiet and modest young man, was familiar to me: two months before, he had traveled from Orenburg with his young wife and stayed with Ivan Kuzmich. Nizhneozernaya was located about twenty-five versts from our fortress. Any hour now we should have expected Pugachev’s attack. The fate of Marya Ivanovna vividly appeared to me, and my heart sank.

Listen, Ivan Kuzmich! - I told the commandant. - It is our duty to defend the fortress until our last breath; there is nothing to say about this. But we need to think about the safety of women. Send them to Orenburg, if the road is still clear, or to a distant, more reliable fortress, where the villains would not have time to reach.

Ivan Kuzmich turned to his wife and said to her: “Hey, mother, really, shouldn’t we send you away until we deal with the rebels?”

And, empty! - said the commandant. - Where is such a fortress where bullets wouldn’t fly? Why is Belogorskaya unreliable? Thank God, we have been living in it for twenty-two years. We saw both Bashkirs and Kyrgyzs: maybe we’ll sit out Pugachev too!

“Well, mother,” objected Ivan Kuemich, “perhaps stay, if you rely on our fortress. But what should we do with Masha? It’s good if we sit out or wait for the next day; Well, what if the villains take the fortress?

Well, then... - Here Vasilisa Egorovna stuttered and fell silent with an appearance of extreme excitement.

“No, Vasilisa Yegorovna,” the commandant continued, noting that his words had an effect, perhaps for the first time in his life. - “It’s not good for Masha to stay here. Let's send her to Orenburg to her godmother: there are plenty of troops and guns, and a stone wall. Yes, I would advise you to go there with her; It’s okay that you’re an old woman, but look what will happen to you if they take the fort by storm.”

“Okay,” said the commandant, “so be it, we’ll send Masha away.” And don’t ask me in your dreams: I won’t go. There is no reason for me to part with you in my old age and look for a lonely grave on a strange side. Live together, die together.

“And that’s the point,” said the commandant. - “Well, there’s no need to hesitate. Go get Masha ready for the trip. Tomorrow we'll send her away and give her a convoy, even though we don't have any extra people. Where is Masha?”

“At Akulina Pamfilovna’s,” answered the commandant. - She felt sick when she heard about the capture of Nizhneozernaya; I'm afraid I'll get sick. Lord Lord, what have we come to!

Vasilisa Egorovna left to arrange for her daughter’s departure. The commandant's conversation continued; but I no longer interfered with it and did not listen to anything. Marya Ivanovna came to dinner pale and tear-stained. We dined in silence and left the table sooner than usual; Having said goodbye to the whole family, we went home. But I deliberately forgot my sword and went back for it: I had a presentiment that I would find Marya Ivanovna alone. In fact, she met me at the door and handed me a sword. “Farewell, Pyotr Andreich!” - she told me with tears. - “They are sending me to Orenburg. Be alive and happy; maybe the Lord will bring us to see each other; if not...” Then she began to sob. I hugged her. “Farewell, my angel,” I said, “farewell, my dear, my beloved!” Whatever happens to me, believe that my last thought and last prayer will be about you! - Masha sobbed, clinging to my chest. I kissed her passionately and hurriedly left the room.

CHAPTER VII. ATTACK.

My head, little head,

Head serving!

My little head served

Exactly thirty years and three years.

Oh, the little head didn't last long

No self-interest, no joy,

No matter how kind a word you say to yourself

And not a high rank;

Only the little head has served

Two tall columns

Maple crossbar,

Another silk loop.
Folk song

That night I did not sleep and did not undress. I intended to go at dawn to the fortress gates, from where Marya Ivanovna was supposed to leave, and there to say goodbye to her for the last time. I felt a great change in myself: the excitement of my soul was much less painful to me than the despondency in which I had recently been immersed. With the sadness of separation, vague but sweet hopes, an impatient expectation of danger, and feelings of noble ambition merged in me. The night passed unnoticed. I was about to leave the house when my door opened and a corporal came to me with a report that our Cossacks had left the fortress at night, taking Yulay with them by force, and that unknown people were driving around the fortress. The thought that Marya Ivanovna would not have time to leave terrified me; I hastily gave the corporal some instructions, and immediately rushed to the commandant.

It's already dawn. I was flying down the street when I heard my name called. I stopped. “Where are you going?” - said Ivan Ignatich, catching up with me. - “Ivan Kuzmich is on the rampart and sent me for you. The scarecrow has arrived." - Has Marya Ivanovna left? - I asked with trembling heart. “I didn’t have time,” answered Ivan Ignatyich: “the road to Orenburg is cut off; the fortress is surrounded. It’s bad, Pyotr Andreich!”

We went to the rampart, an elevation formed by nature and fortified with a palisade. All the inhabitants of the fortress were already crowded there. The garrison stood at gunpoint. The cannon was moved there the day before. The commandant paced in front of his small formation. The proximity of danger animated the old warrior with extraordinary vigor. Around the steppe, not far from the fortress, about twenty people were riding around on horseback. They seemed to be Cossacks, but among them were also Bashkirs, who could easily be recognized by their lynx hats and quivers. The commandant walked around his army, telling the soldiers: “Well, kids, today we will stand up for Mother Empress and prove to the whole world that we are brave people and sworn!” The soldiers loudly expressed their zeal. Shvabrin stood next to me and looked intently at the enemy. People traveling in the steppe, noticing movement in the fortress, gathered in a group and began to talk among themselves. The commandant ordered Ivan Ignatyich to point the cannon at their crowd, and he himself set the fuse. The cannonball buzzed and flew over them without causing any harm. The riders, scattered, immediately galloped out of sight, and the steppe was empty.

Then Vasilisa Egorovna appeared on the rampart and with her Masha, who did not want to leave her. - "Well?" - said the commandant. - “How is the battle going? Where is the enemy? “The enemy is not far,” answered Ivan Kuzmich. - God willing, everything will be fine. What, Masha, are you scared? “No, daddy,” answered Marya Ivanovna; - “It’s worse at home alone.” Then she looked at me and smiled forcefully. I involuntarily squeezed the hilt of my sword, remembering that the day before I had received it from her hands, as if to protect my beloved. My heart was burning. I imagined myself as her knight. I longed to prove that I was worthy of her trust, and began to eagerly await the decisive moment.

At this time, new crowds of horsemen appeared from a height located half a mile from the fortress, and soon the steppe was dotted with many people armed with spears and sideks. Between them rode a man in a red caftan on a white horse, with a drawn saber in his hand: it was Pugachev himself. He stopped; he was surrounded and, apparently, at his command, four people separated and galloped up at full speed right up to the fortress. We recognized them as our traitors. One of them held a sheet of paper under his hat; the other had Yulay’s head stuck on a spear, which he shook off and threw over the palisade to us. The poor Kalmyk's head fell at the commandant's feet. The traitors shouted: “Don’t shoot; go out to the sovereign. The Emperor is here!

“Here I am!” - Ivan Kuzmich shouted. - "Guys! shoot!" Our soldiers fired a volley. The Cossack holding the letter staggered and fell off his horse; others galloped back. I looked at Marya Ivanovna. Struck by the sight of Yulay’s bloody head, deafened by the volley, she seemed unconscious. The commandant called the corporal and ordered him to take the leaf from the hands of the killed Cossack. The corporal went out into the field and returned, leading the horse of the dead man. He handed the commandant a letter. Ivan Kuzmich read it to himself and then tore it into shreds. Meanwhile, the rebels were apparently preparing for action. Soon bullets began whistling near our ears, and several arrows stuck into the ground and into the stockade near us. “Vasilisa Egorovna!” - said the commandant. - “It’s not a woman’s business here; take Masha away; you see: the girl is neither alive nor dead.”

Vasilisa Egorovna, subdued under the bullets, looked at the steppe, where a lot of movement was noticeable; then she turned to her husband and told him: “Ivan Kuzmich, God is free in life and death: bless Masha. Masha, come to your father."

Masha, pale and trembling, approached Ivan Kuzmich, knelt down and bowed to the ground. The old commandant crossed her three times; then he picked her up and, kissing her, said to her in a changed voice: “Well, Masha, be happy. Pray to God: he will not leave you. If there is a kind person, God give you love and advice. Live as Vasilisa Egorovna and I lived. Well, goodbye. Masha. Vasilisa Egorovna, take her away quickly.” (Masha threw herself on his neck and began to sob.) “We’ll kiss too,” the commandant said, crying. - “Farewell, my Ivan Kuzmich. Let me go if I have annoyed you in any way! “Farewell, goodbye, mother!” said the commandant, hugging his old woman. - “Well, that’s enough!” Go, go home; “If you have time, put a sundress on Masha.” The commandant and her daughter left. I looked after Marya Ivanovna; she looked back and nodded her head at me. Here Ivan Kuzmich turned to us, and all his attention was directed to the enemy. The rebels gathered around their leader, and suddenly began to get off their horses. “Now stand strong,” said the commandant; - “There will be an attack...” At that moment a terrible squeal and screams were heard; The rebels ran to the fortress. Our cannon was loaded with buckshot. The commandant let them get as close as possible, and suddenly fired out again. The grapeshot hit the very middle of the crowd. The rebels fled in both directions and retreated. Their leader was left alone in front... He waved his saber and seemed to be eagerly persuading them... The screaming and squealing, which had fallen silent for a minute, immediately resumed again. “Well, guys,” said the commandant; - “Now open the gate, beat the drum.” Guys! forward, on a sortie, follow me!“

The commandant, Ivan Ignatich and I instantly found ourselves behind the ramparts; but the timid garrison did not move. “Why are you kids standing there?” - Ivan Kuzmich shouted. - “To die, to die like that: it’s a service!” At that moment the rebels ran at us and broke into the fortress. The drum fell silent; the garrison abandoned their guns; I was about to be knocked down, but I got up and, together with the rebels, entered the fortress. The commandant, wounded in the head, stood in a group of villains who demanded the keys from him. I rushed to his aid: several hefty Cossacks grabbed me and tied me with sashes, saying: “This will happen to you, disobedient sovereigns!” We were dragged through the streets; residents left their houses with bread and salt. The bell was ringing. Suddenly the crowd shouted that the sovereign was waiting for the prisoners in the square and was taking the oath. People poured into the square; we were driven there too.

Pugachev was sitting in an armchair on the porch of the commandant’s house. He was wearing a red Cossack caftan trimmed with braid. A tall sable cap with golden tassels was pulled down over his sparkling eyes. His face seemed familiar to me. Cossack elders surrounded him. Father Gerasim, pale and trembling, stood at the porch, with a cross in his hands, and seemed to silently beg him for the upcoming sacrifices. A gallows was quickly erected in the square. When we approached, the Bashkirs dispersed the people and we were introduced to Pugachev. Bell ringing died down; there was deep silence. “Which commandant?” - asked the impostor. Our constable stepped out from the crowd and pointed at Ivan Kuzmich. Pugachev looked menacingly at the old man and said to him: “How dare you resist me, your sovereign?” The commandant, exhausted from the wound, gathered his last strength and answered in a firm voice: “You are not my sovereign, you are a thief and an impostor, hear you!” Pugachev frowned gloomily and waved his white handkerchief. Several Cossacks grabbed the old captain and dragged him to the gallows. On its crossbar found himself riding a mutilated Bashkir, whom we had interrogated the day before. He held a rope in his hand, and a minute later I saw poor Ivan Kuemich suspended in the air. Then they brought Ivan Ignatich to Pugachev. “Swear allegiance,” Pugachev told him, “to Sovereign Peter Feodorovich!” “You are not our sovereign,” answered Ivan Ignatich, repeating the words of his captain. - You, uncle, are a thief and an impostor! - Pugachev waved his handkerchief again, and the good lieutenant hung next to his old boss.

The line was behind me. I looked boldly at Pugachev, preparing to repeat the answer of my generous comrades. Then, to my indescribable amazement, I saw among the rebel elders Shvabrin, with his hair cut in a circle and wearing a Cossack caftan. He approached Pugachev and said a few words in his ear. “Hang him!” - said Pugachev, without looking at me. They put a noose around my neck. I began to read a prayer to myself, bringing sincere repentance to God for all my sins and begging him for the salvation of all those close to my heart. I was dragged to the gallows. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” the destroyers repeated to me, perhaps really wanting to encourage me. Suddenly I heard a cry: “Wait, you damned ones! wait!..” The executioners stopped. I look: Savelich is lying at Pugachev’s feet. “Dear father!” - said the poor guy. - “What do you care about the death of the master’s child? Let him go; They will give you a ransom for it; and for the sake of example and fear, order them to hang me as an old man!” Pugachev gave a sign, and they immediately untied me and left me. “Our father has mercy on you,” they told me. At this moment I cannot say that I am happy about my deliverance, but I cannot say that I regret it. My feelings were too vague. I was again brought to the impostor and made to kneel before him. Pugachev extended his sinewy hand to me. “Kiss the hand, kiss the hand!” - they said around me. But I would prefer the most brutal execution to such vile humiliation. “Father Pyotr Andreich!” - Savelich whispered, standing behind me and pushing me. - “Don’t be stubborn! what does it cost you? spit and kiss the evil one... (ugh!) kiss his hand.” I didn't move. Pugachev lowered his hand, saying with a grin: “His noble nobility has gone crazy with joy. Lift him up!” - They picked me up and left me free. I began to look at the continuation of the terrible comedy.

Residents began to swear oaths. They approached one after another, kissing the crucifix and then bowing to the impostor. The garrison soldiers were standing right there. The company tailor, armed with his blunt scissors, cut their braids. They, shaking themselves off, approached the hand of Pugachev, who declared forgiveness to them and accepted them into his gang. all this lasted about three hours. Finally, Pugachev got up from his chair and walked off the porch, accompanied by his elders. They brought him a white horse, decorated with rich harness. Two Cossacks took him by the arms and put him on the saddle. He announced to Father Gerasim that he would have dinner with him. At that moment a woman's scream was heard. Several robbers dragged Vasilisa Yegorovna onto the porch, disheveled and stripped naked. One of them had already dressed up in her warmer. Others carried feather beds, chests, tea utensils, linen and all the junk. “My fathers!” - screamed the poor old woman. - “Release your soul to repentance. Dear fathers, take me to Ivan Kuzmich.” Suddenly she looked at the gallows and recognized her husband. "Villains!" - she screamed in a frenzy. - “What did you do to him? You are my light, Ivan Kuzmich, you brave little soldier! Neither Prussian bayonets nor Turkish bullets touched you; You didn’t lay down your belly in a fair fight, but perished from an escaped convict!” - Calm down old witch! - said Pugachev. Then a young Cossack hit her on the head with a saber, and she fell dead on the steps of the porch. Pugachev left; the people rushed after him.

CHAPTER VIII. UNINVITED GUEST.

An uninvited guest is worse than a Tatar.
Proverb.

The square was empty. I kept standing in one place and could not put my thoughts in order, confused by such terrible impressions.

The unknown about Marya Ivanovna’s fate tormented me most of all. Where is she? what's wrong with her? did you manage to hide? Is her shelter safe?.. Complete anxious thoughts, I entered the commandant’s house... everything was empty; chairs, tables, chests were broken; the dishes are broken; everything is taken apart. I ran up the small staircase that led to the little room, and for the first time in my life I entered Marya Ivanovna’s room. I saw her bed, torn up by robbers; the wardrobe was broken and robbed; the lamp was still glowing in front of the empty ark. The mirror hanging in the wall also survived... Where was the mistress of this humble, maiden cell? A terrible thought flashed through my mind: I imagined her in the hands of robbers... My heart sank. . . I cried bitterly, bitterly, and loudly pronounced the name of my dear... At that moment a slight noise was heard, and Broadsword appeared from behind the closet, pale and trembling.

“Ah, Pyotr Andreich!” - she said, clasping her hands. - “What a day!” what passions!..”

And Marya Ivanovna? - I asked impatiently, - what about Marya Ivanovna?

“The young lady is alive,” answered Broadsword. - “It is hidden with Akulina Pamfilovna.”

At the priest's! - I cried out in horror. - My God! yes there is Pugachev!..

I rushed out of the room, instantly found myself on the street and ran headlong into the priest’s house, seeing and feeling nothing. Screams, laughter and songs were heard there... Pugachev was feasting with his comrades. The broadsword ran there after me. I sent her to quietly call Akulina Pamfilovna. A minute later the priest came out to me in the hallway with an empty bottle in her hands.

For God's sake! where is Marya Ivanovna? - I asked with inexplicable excitement.

“He’s lying, my dear, on my bed, behind the partition,” answered the priest. - “Well, Pyotr Andreich, trouble almost struck, but thank God, everything went well: the villain had just sat down to dinner, when she, my poor thing, woke up and groaned!.. I just froze. He heard: “Who is that groaning at you, old woman?” I’m a thief at the waist: my niece, sir; I fell ill, I’m lying there, it’s just another week. - “Is your niece young?” - Young, sir. - “Show me, old woman, your niece.” “My heart skipped a beat, but there was nothing to do.” - If you please, sir; Only the girl won’t be able to get up and come to your mercy. - “Nothing, old woman, I’ll go and have a look myself.” And the accursed one went behind the partition; How do you think! After all, he pulled back the curtain and looked with his hawk eyes! - and nothing... God took it out! But would you believe it, my dad and I were already prepared for martyrdom. Fortunately, she, my dear, did not recognize him. Lord, master, we have waited for the holiday! Nothing to say! poor Ivan Kuzmich! who would have thought!.. And Vasilisa Egorovna? And what about Ivan Ignatyich? Why was he?.. How did they spare you? And what is Shvabrin, Alexey Ivanovich like? After all, he cut his hair into a circle and now he’s feasting with them right there! Agile, nothing to say! And as I said about my sick niece, do you believe it, he looked at me like he was piercing me with a knife; however, he didn’t give it away, thanks to him for that.” - At that moment the drunken screams of the guests and the voice of Father Gerasim were heard. The guests demanded wine, the owner called his partner. The priest got busy. “Go home, Pyotr Andreich,” she said; - “Now it’s not up to you; The villains are on a drinking binge. Trouble is, you will fall under a drunken hand. Goodbye, Pyotr Andreich. What will be will be; maybe God won’t leave you!”

Popadya left. Somewhat reassured, I went to my apartment. Walking past the square, I saw several Bashkirs crowding around the gallows and pulling off the boots of the hanged; I could hardly restrain the outburst of indignation, feeling the futility of intercession. Robbers ran around the fortress, robbing officers' houses. The screams of drunken rebels were heard everywhere. I came home. Savelich met me at the threshold. "God bless!" - he cried when he saw me. - “I thought that the villains had picked you up again. Well, Father Pyotr Andreich! do you believe? The scammers plundered everything from us: clothes, linen, things, dishes - they left nothing. So what! Thank God they released you alive! Did you recognize, sir, the chieftain?”

No, I didn’t find out; and who is he?

“How, father? Have you forgotten that drunkard who lured your sheepskin coat from you at the inn? The bunny’s sheepskin coat is brand new, but he, the beast, tore it apart by putting it on himself!”

I was amazed. In fact, the resemblance between Pugachev and my counselor was striking. I made sure that Pugachev and he were one and the same person, and then I understood the reason for the mercy shown to me. I could not help but marvel at the strange combination of circumstances; a children's sheepskin coat, given to a tramp, freed me from the noose, and a drunkard, staggering through inns, besieged fortresses and shook the state!

“Would you like to eat?” - asked Savelich, unchanged in his habits. - “There is nothing at home; I’ll go and rummage around and make something for you.”

Left alone, I plunged into thought. What was I supposed to do? It was indecent for an officer to remain in a fortress subject to the villain, or to follow his gang. Duty demanded that I appear where my service could still be useful to the fatherland in present, difficult circumstances... But love strongly advised me to stay with Marya Ivanovna and be her protector and patron. Although I foresaw a quick and undoubted change in circumstances, I still could not help but tremble, imagining the danger of her position.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of one of the Cossacks, who came running with the announcement that “the great sovereign demands you to come to him.” - Where is he? - I asked, preparing to obey.

“In the commandant’s office,” answered the Cossack. - “After lunch, our father went to the bathhouse, and now he’s resting. Well, your honor, it is clear from everything that he is a noble person: at dinner he deigned to eat two roasted pigs, and he was steaming so hot that Taras Kurochkin could not stand it, he gave the broom to Fomka Bikbaev, and forcibly pumped himself out with cold water. There is nothing to say: all the techniques are so important... And in the bathhouse, you can hear him showing his royal signs on his chest: on one there is a double-headed eagle, the size of a nickel, and on the other his person.”

I did not consider it necessary to challenge the Cossack’s opinions and went with him to the commandant’s house, imagining in advance a meeting with Pugachev, and trying to predict how it would end. The reader can easily imagine that I was not completely cool-headed.

It was beginning to get dark when I arrived at the commandant’s house. The gallows with its victims turned terribly black. The body of the poor commandant was still lying under the porch, where two Cossacks stood guard. The Cossack who brought me went to report about me, and immediately returned and led me into the room where the day before I had so tenderly said goodbye to Marya Ivanovna.

An extraordinary picture presented itself to me: at a table covered with a tablecloth and set with damasks and glasses, Pugachev and about ten Cossack elders were sitting, in hats and colored shirts, flushed with wine, with red faces and shining eyes. Between them there was neither Shvabrin nor our constable, the newly recruited traitors. “Ah, your honor!” - said Pugachev, seeing me. - "Welcome; honor and place, you are welcome.” The interlocutors made room. I sat down silently on the edge of the table. My neighbor, a young Cossack, slender and handsome, poured me a glass of simple wine, which I did not touch. I began to examine the gathering with curiosity. Pugachev sat in the first place, leaning on the table and propping up his black beard with his wide fist. His facial features, regular and rather pleasant, did not express anything ferocious. He often addressed a man of about fifty, calling him either count or Timofeich, and sometimes calling him uncle. Everyone treated each other as comrades, and did not show any special preference to their leader. The conversation was about the morning attack, the success of the indignation and future actions. Everyone boasted, offered their opinions and freely challenged Pugachev. And at this strange military council, it was decided to go to Orenburg: a daring movement, and which was almost crowned with disastrous success! The campaign was announced for tomorrow. “Well, brothers,” said Pugachev, “let’s sing my favorite song for the coming sleep. Chumakov! start!” - My neighbor began to sing a mournful barge hauler song in a thin voice, and everyone joined in in chorus:

Don't make noise, mother green oak tree,

Don’t bother me, good fellow, from thinking.

Why should I, good fellow, go into interrogation tomorrow morning?

Before the formidable judge, the king himself.

The Sovereign Tsar will also ask me:

Tell me, tell me, little peasant son,

Just like with whom did you steal, with whom did you steal,

How many other comrades were with you?

I'll tell you, Nadezhda Orthodox Tsar,

I'll tell you the whole truth, the whole truth,

That I had four comrades:

Another my first friend is the dark night,

And my second comrade is a damask knife,

And as a third comrade, my good horse,

And my fourth comrade, that tight bow,

My messengers are like red-hot arrows.

What will the Orthodox Tsar say:

Use it for you, little peasant son,

That you knew how to steal, you knew how to answer!

I'll thank you for that, baby

In the middle of the field there are tall mansions,

What about two pillars with a crossbar?

It is impossible to tell what effect this simple folk song about the gallows, sung by people doomed to the gallows, had on me. Their menacing faces, slender voices, the sad expression that they gave to words that were already expressive - everything shocked me with some kind of pyitic horror.

The guests drank another glass, got up from the table and said goodbye to Pugachev. I wanted to follow them, but Pugachev told me: “Sit; I want to talk to you." - We stayed eye to eye.

Our mutual silence continued for several minutes. Pugachev looked at me intently, occasionally squinting his left eye with an amazing expression of trickery and mockery. Finally he laughed, and with such unfeigned gaiety that I, looking at him, began to laugh, without knowing why.

“What, your honor?” - he told me. - “You were afraid, admit it, when my fellows threw a rope around your neck? I’m having tea, the sky seemed the size of a sheepskin... And I would have swung on the crossbar if it weren’t for your servant. I immediately recognized the old guy. Well, did you think, your honor, that the man who brought you to the skill was the great sovereign himself? (Here he assumed an important and mysterious look.) “You are deeply to blame for me,” he continued; - “But I had mercy on you because of your virtue, because you did me a favor when I was forced to hide from my enemies. You'll see again! Will I still favor you when I get my own state? Do you promise to serve me with diligence?

The scammer’s question and his impudence seemed so funny to me that I couldn’t help but grin.

“Why are you grinning? - he asked me, frowning. - “Or don’t you believe that I am a great sovereign?” Answer directly."

I was embarrassed: I was not able to recognize the tramp as sovereign: it seemed to me unforgivable cowardice. To call him a deceiver to his face was to expose oneself to destruction; and what I was ready to do under the gallows in the eyes of all the people and in the first heat of indignation now seemed to me useless boastfulness. I hesitated. Pugachev gloomily waited for my answer. Finally (and I still remember this moment with self-satisfaction) the sense of duty triumphed in me over human weakness. I answered Pugachev: Listen; I'll tell you the whole truth. Judge, can I recognize you as a sovereign? You are a smart man: you would see for yourself that I am deceitful.

“Who am I, in your opinion?”

God knows you; but whoever you are, you are telling a dangerous joke.

Pugachev looked at me quickly. “So you don’t believe,” he said, “that I was Tsar Peter Fedorovich? Well, good. Isn't there good luck for the daring? Didn’t Grishka Otrepiev reign in the old days? Think what you want about me, but don’t lag behind me. What do you care about other things? Whoever is a priest is a dad. Serve me with faith and truth, and I will make you a field marshal and a prince. How do you think?"

“No,” I answered firmly. - I am a natural nobleman; I swore allegiance to the Empress: I cannot serve you. If you really wish me well, then let me go to Orenburg.

Pugachev thought about it. “And if I let you go,” he said, “will you at least promise not to serve against me?”

How can I promise you this? - I answered. “You know, it’s not my will: if they tell you to go against you, I’ll go, there’s nothing to do.” You are now the boss yourself; you yourself demand obedience from your own. What will it be like if I refuse to serve when my service is needed? My head is in your power: if you let me go, thank you; if you execute, God will judge you; and I told you the truth.

“My sincerity struck Pugachev. “So be it,” he said, hitting me on the shoulder. - “To execute is to execute, to be merciful is to be merciful.” Go ahead and do whatever you want. Tomorrow come to say goodbye to me, and now go to bed, and I’m already falling asleep.”

I left Pugachev and went out into the street. The night was quiet and frosty. The moon and stars shone brightly, illuminating the square and the gallows. Everything in the fortress was calm and dark. Only in the tavern was the fire glowing and the screams of belated revelers were heard. I looked at the rectory. The shutters and gates were locked. Everything in it seemed to be quiet.

I came to my apartment and found Savelich grieving over my absence. The news of my freedom delighted him beyond words. “Glory to you, lord!” - he said crossing himself. - “As soon as the light comes, let’s leave the fortress and go wherever our eyes look. I have prepared something for you; eat, father, and rest until the morning, like in Christ’s bosom.”

I followed his advice and, having dined with great appetite, fell asleep on the bare floor, tired mentally and physically.

___________________________________________________________

About the product

The idea of ​​the novel “The Captain's Daughter” originated during Pushkin’s trip to the Orenburg province. The novel was created in parallel with “The History of the Pugachev Rebellion.” It was as if Pushkin was taking a break from the “compressed and dry presentation of History.” In "The Captain's Daughter" they found a place for "the warmth and charm of historical notes." "The History of the Pugachev Rebellion" and "The Captain's Daughter" were completed in 1833.

“The Captain’s Daughter was written between all sorts of things, among work on the Pugachev era, but there is more history in it than in “The History of the Pugachev Rebellion,” which seems like a long explanatory note to the novel,” Klyuchevsky wrote.

The novel was first published a year before Pushkin’s death in Sovremennik, but not under Pushkin’s authorship, but as the family notes of a certain nobleman Pyotr Grinev. For censorship reasons, the chapter about the peasant revolt on Grinev’s estate was removed from the novel.

Almost 80 years after the release of The Captain's Daughter, an unknown young man came to St. Petersburg from the outback, dreaming of becoming a writer. He chose Zinaida Gippius, a well-known symbolist poetess at that time, as his mentor and critic.

It was to her that he brought his first literary samples. The poetess, with undisguised irritation, advised the ambitious writer to read The Captain's Daughter. The young man left, considering the advice offensive to himself.

And a quarter of a century later, having gone through difficult life trials, Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin wrote in his diary: “My homeland is not Yelets, where I was born, not St. Petersburg, where I settled down to live, both are now archeology for me... my homeland, unrivaled in simple beauty, combined with kindness and wisdom - my homeland is Pushkin’s story “The Captain’s Daughter”.

Take care of your honor from a young age.

Chapter I
Sergeant of the Guard

“If only he were a guard captain tomorrow.”

- That’s not necessary; let him serve in the army.

- Well said! let him push...

………………………………………………………

Who's his father?

My father, Andrei Petrovich Grinev, in his youth served under Count Minich and retired as prime minister in 17.... Since then he lived in his Simbirsk village, where he married the girl Avdotya Vasilyevna Yu., the daughter of a poor nobleman there. There were nine of us children. All my brothers and sisters died in infancy.

Mother was still pregnant with me, as I had already been enlisted in the Semenovsky regiment as a sergeant, by the grace of Guard Major Prince B., a close relative of ours. If, more than anything else, mother had given birth to a daughter, then the father would have announced the death of the sergeant who had not appeared, and that would have been the end of the matter. I was considered on leave until I finished my studies. At that time, we were not brought up in the traditional way. From the age of five I was given into the hands of the eager Savelich, who was granted my uncle status for his sober behavior. Under his supervision, in my twelfth year, I learned Russian literacy and could very sensibly judge the properties of a greyhound dog. At this time, the priest hired a Frenchman for me, Monsieur Beaupré, who was discharged from Moscow along with a year's supply of wine and Provençal oil. Savelich did not like his arrival very much. “Thank God,” he grumbled to himself, “it seems the child is washed, combed, and fed. Where should we spend the extra money and hire monsieur, as if our people were gone!”

Beaupre was a hairdresser in his homeland, then a soldier in Prussia, then he came to Russia pour être outchitel, not really understanding the meaning of this word. He was a kind fellow, but flighty and dissolute to the extreme. His main weakness was his passion for the fair sex; Often, for his tenderness, he received pushes, from which he groaned for whole days. Moreover, he was not (as he put it) and the enemy of the bottle, that is (speaking in Russian) he liked to take a sip too much. But since we only served wine at dinner, and then only in small glasses, and the teachers usually carried it around, my Beaupre very soon got used to the Russian liqueur and even began to prefer it to the wines of his fatherland, as it was much healthier for the stomach. We hit it off immediately, and although he was contractually obligated to teach me in French, German and all sciences, but he preferred to quickly learn from me how to chat in Russian, and then each of us went about his own business. We lived in perfect harmony. I didn't want any other mentor. But soon fate separated us, and for this reason.

The washerwoman Palashka, a fat and pockmarked girl, and the crooked cowmaid Akulka somehow agreed at the same time to throw themselves at mother’s feet, blaming themselves for their criminal weakness and complaining with tears about the monsieur who had seduced their inexperience. Mother didn’t like to joke about this and complained to the priest. His reprisal was short. He immediately demanded the Frenchman's channel. They reported that Monsieur was giving me his lesson. Father went to my room. At this time, Beaupre was sleeping on the bed in the sleep of innocence. I was busy with business. You need to know that a geographical map was issued for me from Moscow. It hung on the wall without any use and had long tempted me with the width and goodness of the paper. I decided to make snakes out of it and, taking advantage of Beaupre’s sleep, I set to work. Father came in at the same time as I was adjusting the bast tail to the Cape of Good Hope. Seeing my exercises in geography, the priest pulled me by the ear, then ran up to Beaupre, woke him up very carelessly and began to shower him with reproaches. Beaupre, in confusion, wanted to get up but could not: the unfortunate Frenchman was dead drunk. Seven troubles, one answer. Father lifted him out of bed by the collar, pushed him out of the door and drove him out of the yard that same day, to Savelich’s indescribable joy. That was the end of my upbringing.

I lived as a teenager, chasing pigeons and playing leapfrog with the yard boys. Meanwhile, I was sixteen years old. Then my fate changed.

One autumn, my mother was making honey jam in the living room, and I, licking my lips, looked at the seething foam. Father at the window was reading the Court Calendar, which he receives every year. This book always had a strong influence on him: he never re-read it without special participation, and reading this always produced in him an amazing excitement of bile. Mother, who knew by heart all his habits and customs, always tried to shove the unfortunate book as far away as possible, and thus the Court Calendar did not catch his eye sometimes for entire months. But when he found it by chance, he would not let it out of his hands for hours at a time. So, the priest read the Court Calendar, occasionally shrugging his shoulders and repeating in a low voice: “Lieutenant General!.. He was a sergeant in my company!.. He was a holder of both Russian orders!.. How long ago have we…” Finally, the priest threw the calendar on the sofa and plunged into reverie, which did not bode well.

Suddenly he turned to his mother: “Avdotya Vasilyevna, how old is Petrusha?”

“Yes, I’ve just reached my seventeenth year,” answered my mother. “Petrusha was born in the same year that Aunt Nastasya Gerasimovna became sad, and when else...

“Okay,” interrupted the priest, “it’s time for him to go into service. It’s enough for him to run around the maidens and climb dovecotes.”

The thought of imminent separation from me struck my mother so much that she dropped the spoon into the saucepan and tears streamed down her face. On the contrary, it is difficult to describe my admiration. The thought of service merged in me with thoughts of freedom, of the pleasures of St. Petersburg life. I imagined myself as a guard officer, which, in my opinion, was the height of human well-being.

Father did not like to change his intentions or postpone their implementation. The day for my departure was set. The day before, the priest announced that he intended to write with me to my future boss, and demanded pen and paper.

“Don’t forget, Andrei Petrovich,” said mother, “to bow to Prince B. for me; I, they say, hope that he will not abandon Petrusha with his favors.

- What nonsense! - answered the priest, frowning. - Why on earth would I write to Prince B.?

“But you said that you would like to write to Petrusha’s boss.”

- Well, what’s there?

- But the chief Petrushin is Prince B. After all, Petrusha is enrolled in the Semenovsky regiment.

- Recorded! Why do I care that it’s recorded? Petrusha will not go to St. Petersburg. What will he learn while serving in St. Petersburg? hang out and hang out? No, let him serve in the army, let him pull the strap, let him smell gunpowder, let him be a soldier, not a chamaton. Enlisted in the Guard! Where is his passport? give it here.

Mother found my passport, which was kept in her box along with the shirt in which I was baptized, and handed it to the priest with a trembling hand. Father read it with attention, placed it on the table in front of him and began his letter.

Curiosity tormented me: where are they sending me, if not to St. Petersburg? I didn’t take my eyes off Father’s pen, which was moving quite slowly. Finally he finished, sealed the letter in the same bag with his passport, took off his glasses and, calling me, said: “Here is a letter for you to Andrei Karlovich R., my old comrade and friend. You are going to Orenburg to serve under his command.”

So, all my bright hopes were dashed! Instead of a cheerful life in St. Petersburg, boredom awaited me in a remote and remote place. The service, which I had been thinking about with such delight for a minute, seemed to me like a grave misfortune. But there was no point in arguing! The next day, in the morning, a road wagon was brought to the porch; They packed it with a suitcase, a cellar with a tea set, and bundles of buns and pies, the last signs of home pampering. My parents blessed me. Father told me: “Goodbye, Peter. Serve faithfully to whom you pledge allegiance; obey your superiors; Don’t chase their affection; don’t ask for service; do not dissuade yourself from serving; and remember the proverb: take care of your dress again, but take care of your honor from a young age.” Mother, in tears, ordered me to take care of my health and Savelich to look after the child. They put a hare sheepskin coat on me, and a fox fur coat on top. I got into the wagon with Savelich and set off on the road, shedding tears.

That same night I arrived in Simbirsk, where I was supposed to stay for a day to purchase the necessary things, which was entrusted to Savelich. I stopped at a tavern. Savelich went to the shops in the morning. Bored of looking out the window at the dirty alley, I went to wander through all the rooms. Entering the billiard room, I saw a tall gentleman, about thirty-five, with a long black mustache, in a dressing gown, with a cue in his hand and a pipe in his teeth. He played with a marker, who, when he won, drank a glass of vodka, and when he lost, he had to crawl under the billiard on all fours. I started watching them play. The longer it went on, the more frequent the walks on all fours became, until finally the marker remained under the billiards. The master uttered several strong expressions over him in the form of a funeral word and invited me to play a game. I refused out of incompetence. This apparently seemed strange to him. He looked at me as if with regret; however, we started talking. I found out that his name is Ivan Ivanovich Zurin, that he is the captain of the ** hussar regiment and is in Simbirsk receiving recruits, and is standing in a tavern. Zurin invited me to dine with him as God sent, like a soldier. I readily agreed. We sat down at the table. Zurin drank a lot and treated me too, saying that I needed to get used to the service; he told me army jokes that almost made me laugh, and we left the table perfect friends. Then he volunteered to teach me to play billiards. “This,” he said, “is necessary for our serving brother. On a hike, for example, you come to a place - what do you want to do? After all, it’s not all about beating the Jews. Involuntarily, you will go to a tavern and start playing billiards; and for that you need to know how to play!” I was completely convinced and began to study with great diligence. Zurin loudly encouraged me, marveled at my quick successes and, after several lessons, invited me to play for money, one penny at a time, not to win, but so as not to play for nothing, which, according to him, is the worst habit. I agreed to this too, and Zurin ordered punch to be served and persuaded me to try, repeating that I needed to get used to the service; and without punch, what is the service! I listened to him. Meanwhile, our game continued. The more often I sipped from my glass, the more courageous I became. Balloons were constantly flying over my side; I got excited, scolded the marker, who counted God knows how, increased the game hour by hour, in a word, I behaved like a boy who had broken free. Meanwhile, time passed unnoticed. Zurin looked at his watch, put down his cue and announced to me that I had lost a hundred rubles. This confused me a little. Savelich had my money. I started apologizing. Zurin interrupted me: “Have mercy! Don't worry. I can wait, but in the meantime we’ll go to Arinushka.”

What do you want? I ended the day as dissolutely as I started it. We had dinner at Arinushka's. Zurin kept adding more to me every minute, repeating that I needed to get used to the service. Getting up from the table, I could barely stand; at midnight Zurin took me to the tavern.

Savelich met us on the porch. He gasped when he saw the unmistakable signs of my zeal for service. “What has happened to you, sir? - he said in a pitiful voice, - where did you load this? Oh my goodness! Such a sin has never happened in my life!” - “Be quiet, you bastard! “I answered him, stuttering, “you’re probably drunk, go to bed... and put me to bed.”

The next day I woke up with a headache, vaguely remembering yesterday’s incidents. My thoughts were interrupted by Savelich, who came to me with a cup of tea. “It’s early, Pyotr Andreich,” he told me, shaking his head, “you start walking early. And who did you go to? It seems that neither the father nor the grandfather were drunkards; There’s nothing to say about my mother: from childhood, she never deigned to take anything into her mouth except kvass. And who is to blame for everything? damn monsieur. Every now and then, it would happen that he would run to Antipyevna: “Madam, wow, vodka.” So much for you! There is nothing to say: he taught me good things, son of a dog. And it was necessary to hire an infidel as an uncle, as if the master no longer had his own people!”

I was ashamed. I turned away and told him: “Get out, Savelich; I don’t want tea.” But it was difficult to calm Savelich down when he started preaching. “You see, Pyotr Andreich, what it’s like to cheat. And my head feels heavy, and I don’t want to eat. A person who drinks is good for nothing... Drink cucumber pickle with honey, but it would be better to get over your hangover with half a glass of tincture. Won't you give me an order?"

At this time, the boy came in and gave me a note from I.I. Zurin. I unfolded it and read the following lines:

“Dear Pyotr Andreevich, please send me and my boy the hundred rubles that you lost to me yesterday. I am in dire need of money.

Ready for service

Ivan Zurin."

There was nothing to do. I assumed an indifferent look and, turning to Savelich, who was and money, and linen, and my affairs, a steward, ordered to give the boy one hundred rubles. "How! For what?" – asked the amazed Savelich. “I owe them to him,” I answered with all possible coldness. "Must! - Savelich objected, more and more astonished from time to time, - but when, sir, did you manage to owe him? Something is wrong. It’s your will, sir, but I won’t give you any money.”

I thought that if at this decisive moment I did not overcome the stubborn old man, then in the future it would be difficult for me to free myself from his tutelage, and, looking at him proudly, I said: “I am your master, and you are my servant. The money is mine. I lost them because I felt like it. And I advise you not to be smart and do what you are ordered.”

Savelich was so amazed by my words that he clasped his hands and was dumbfounded. “Why are you standing there!” – I shouted angrily. Savelich began to cry. “Father Pyotr Andreich,” he said in a trembling voice, “don’t kill me with sadness. You are my light! listen to me, old man: write to this robber that you were joking, that we don’t even have that kind of money. One hundred rubles! God you are merciful! Tell me that your parents firmly ordered you not to play except with nuts...” “Stop lying,” I interrupted sternly, “give me the money here or I’ll kick you out.”

Savelich looked at me with deep sorrow and went to collect my debt. I felt sorry for the poor old man; but I wanted to break free and prove that I was no longer a child. The money was delivered to Zurin. Savelich hastened to take me out of the damned tavern. He came with the news that the horses were ready. With an uneasy conscience and silent repentance, I left Simbirsk, without saying goodbye to my teacher and without thinking of ever seeing him again.

Chapter II
Counselor

Is it my side, my side,

Unfamiliar side!

Was it not I who came upon you?

Wasn’t it a good horse that brought me:

She brought me, good fellow,

Agility, good cheerfulness

And the tavern's hop drink.

Old song

My thoughts on the road were not very pleasant. My loss, at the prices at that time, was significant. I could not help but admit in my heart that my behavior in the Simbirsk tavern was stupid, and I felt guilty before Savelich. All this tormented me. The old man sat sullenly on the bench, turned away from me, and was silent, only quacking occasionally. I definitely wanted to make peace with him and didn’t know where to start. Finally I told him: “Well, well, Savelich! that's enough, let's make peace, it's my fault; I see for myself that I am guilty. Yesterday I misbehaved, and I wronged you in vain. I promise to behave smarter and obey you in the future. Well, don't be angry; let's make peace."

- Eh, Father Pyotr Andreich! - he answered with a deep sigh. – I’m angry with myself; It's all my fault. How could I have left you alone in the tavern! What to do? I was confused by sin: I decided to wander into the sacristan’s house and see my godfather. That's it: I went to see my godfather and ended up in prison. Trouble and nothing more! How will I show myself to the gentlemen? what will they say when they find out that the child is drinking and playing?

To console poor Savelich, I gave him my word that in future I would not dispose of a single penny without his consent. He gradually calmed down, although he still occasionally grumbled to himself, shaking his head: “A hundred rubles! Isn’t it easy!”

I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched sad deserts, intersected by hills and ravines. Everything was covered with snow. The sun was setting. The carriage was traveling along a narrow road, or more precisely along a trail made by peasant sleighs. Suddenly the driver began to look to the side and, finally, taking off his hat, turned to me and said: “Master, would you order me to turn back?”

- Why is this?

– Time is unreliable: the wind rises slightly; see how it sweeps away the powder.

- What a problem!

– Do you see what there? (The coachman pointed his whip to the east.)

“I see nothing but the white steppe and the clear sky.”

- And there - there: this is a cloud.

I actually saw a white cloud at the edge of the sky, which at first I took for a distant hill. The driver explained to me that the cloud foreshadowed a snowstorm.

I heard about the blizzards there and knew that entire carts were covered in them. Savelich, in agreement with the driver’s opinion, advised him to turn back. But the wind did not seem strong to me; I hoped to get to the next station in time and ordered to go quickly.

The coachman galloped off; but kept looking to the east. The horses ran together. Meanwhile, the wind became stronger hour by hour. The cloud turned into a white cloud, which rose heavily, grew and gradually covered the sky. It began to snow lightly and suddenly began to fall in flakes. The wind howled; there was a snowstorm. In an instant, the dark sky mixed with the snowy sea. Everything has disappeared. “Well, master,” the coachman shouted, “trouble: a snowstorm!..”

I looked out of the wagon: everything was darkness and whirlwind. The wind howled with such ferocious expressiveness that it seemed animated; the snow covered me and Savelich; the horses walked at a pace - and soon stopped. “Why aren’t you going?” – I asked the driver impatiently. “Why go? - he answered, getting off the bench, - God knows where we ended up: there is no road, and there is darkness all around. I started to scold him. Savelich stood up for him: “And I would have disobeyed,” he said angrily, “I would have returned to the inn, had some tea, rested until the morning, the storm would have subsided, and we would have moved on. And where are we rushing? You’d be welcome to the wedding!” Savelich was right. There was nothing to do. The snow was still falling. A snowdrift was rising near the wagon. The horses stood with their heads down and occasionally shuddering. The coachman walked around, having nothing better to do, adjusting the harness. Savelich grumbled; I looked in all directions, hoping to see at least a sign of a vein or a road, but I could not discern anything except the muddy whirling of a snowstorm... Suddenly I saw something black. “Hey, coachman! - I shouted, “look: what’s black there?” The coachman began to peer closely. “God knows, master,” he said, sitting down in his place, “a cart is not a cart, a tree is not a tree, but it seems that it is moving. It must be either a wolf or a man." I ordered to go towards an unfamiliar object, which immediately began to move towards us. Two minutes later we caught up with the man. “Hey, good man! - the coachman shouted to him. “Tell me, do you know where the road is?”

- The road is here; “I’m standing on a solid strip,” answered the roadie, “but what’s the point?”

“Listen, little man,” I told him, “do you know this side?” Will you undertake to take me to my lodging for the night?

“The side is familiar to me,” answered the traveler, “thank God, it’s well-trodden and traveled far and wide.” Look what the weather is like: you’ll just lose your way. It’s better to stop here and wait, maybe the storm will subside and the sky will clear: then we’ll find our way by the stars.

His composure encouraged me. I had already decided, surrendering myself to God’s will, to spend the night in the middle of the steppe, when suddenly the roadman quickly sat down on the beam and said to the coachman: “Well, thank God, he lived not far away; turn right and go."

- Why should I go to the right? – the driver asked with displeasure. -Where do you see the road? Probably: the horses are strangers, the collar is not yours, don’t stop driving. “The coachman seemed right to me.” “Really,” I said, “why do you think that they lived not far away?” “But because the wind blew away from here,” answered the roadman, “and I hear the smell of smoke; know the village is close." His intelligence and subtlety of instinct amazed me. I told the coachman to go. The horses tramped heavily through the deep snow. The wagon moved quietly, now driving onto a snowdrift, now collapsing into a ravine and rolling over to one side or the other. It was like sailing a ship on a stormy sea. Savelich groaned, constantly pushing against my sides. I lowered the mat, wrapped myself in a fur coat and dozed off, lulled by the singing of the storm and the rolling of the quiet ride.

I had a dream that I could never forget and in which I still see something prophetic when I consider the strange circumstances of my life with it. The reader will excuse me: for he probably knows from experience how natural it is for a person to indulge in superstition, despite all possible contempt for prejudices.

I was in that state of feelings and soul when materiality, yielding to dreams, merges with them in the unclear visions of first sleep. It seemed to me that the storm was still raging and we were still wandering through the snowy desert... Suddenly I saw a gate and drove into the manor’s courtyard of our estate. My first thought was the fear that my father would be angry with me for my involuntary return to my parents’ roof and would consider it deliberate disobedience. With anxiety, I jumped out of the wagon and saw: my mother met me on the porch with an appearance of deep grief. “Hush,” she tells me, “your father is dying and wants to say goodbye to you.” Struck with fear, I follow her into the bedroom. I see the room is dimly lit; there are people with sad faces standing by the bed. I quietly approach the bed; Mother lifts the curtain and says: “Andrei Petrovich, Petrusha has arrived; he returned after learning about your illness; bless him." I knelt down and fixed my eyes on the patient. Well?.. Instead of my father, I see a man with a black beard lying in bed, looking at me cheerfully. I turned to my mother in bewilderment, telling her: “What does this mean? This is not father. And why should I ask for a man’s blessing?” “It doesn’t matter, Petrusha,” my mother answered me, “this is your imprisoned father; kiss his hand and may he bless you...” I did not agree. Then the man jumped out of bed, grabbed the ax from behind his back and began swinging it in all directions. I wanted to run... and couldn’t; the room was filled with dead bodies; I stumbled over bodies and slid in bloody puddles... The scary man called me affectionately, saying: “Don’t be afraid, come under my blessing...” Horror and bewilderment took possession of me... And at that moment I woke up; the horses stood; Savelich tugged at my hand, saying: “Come out, sir: we’ve arrived.”

-Where have you arrived? – I asked, rubbing my eyes.

- To the inn. The Lord helped, we ran straight into a fence. Come out, sir, quickly and warm yourself up.

I left the tent. The storm still continued, although with less force. It was so dark that you could put out your eyes. The owner met us at the gate, holding a lantern under his skirt, and led me into the room, cramped, but quite clean; a torch illuminated her. A rifle and a tall Cossack hat hung on the wall.

The owner, a Yaik Cossack by birth, seemed to be a man of about sixty, still fresh and vigorous. Savelich brought the cellar behind me and demanded a fire to prepare tea, which I never seemed to need so much. The owner went to do some work.

- Where is the counselor? – I asked Savelich. “Here, your honor,” the voice from above answered me. I looked at the Polati and saw a black beard and two sparkling eyes. “What, brother, are you cold?” - “How not to vegetate in one skinny armyak! There was a sheepskin coat, but let’s be honest? I laid the evening at the kisser’s: the frost did not seem too great.” At that moment the owner came in with a boiling samovar; I offered our counselor a cup of tea; the man got off the floor. His appearance seemed remarkable to me: he was about forty, average height, thin and broad-shouldered. His black beard showed streaks of gray; the lively big eyes kept darting around. His face had a rather pleasant, but roguish expression. The hair was cut into a circle; he was wearing a tattered overcoat and Tatar trousers. I brought him a cup of tea; he tasted it and winced. “Your Honor, do me such a favor - order me to bring a glass of wine; tea is not our Cossack drink.” I willingly fulfilled his wish. The owner took a damask and a glass out of the stall, walked up to him and, looking into his face: “Ehe,” he said, “you’re in our land again!” Where did God bring it?” My counselor blinked significantly and answered with a saying: “He flew into the garden, pecked hemp; Grandmother threw a pebble - yes, it missed. Well, what about yours?”

- Yes, ours! - the owner answered, continuing the allegorical conversation. “They started ringing for vespers, but the priest didn’t say: the priest is visiting, the devils are in the graveyard.”

“Be quiet, uncle,” my tramp objected, “there will be rain, there will be fungi; and if there are fungi, there will be a body. And now (here he blinked again) put the ax behind your back: the forester is walking. Your honor! for your health! - With these words, he took the glass, crossed himself and drank in one breath. Then he bowed to me and returned to the floor.

I couldn’t understand anything from this thieves’ conversation at the time; but later I guessed that it was about the affairs of the Yaitsky army, which at that time had just been pacified after the riot of 1772. Savelich listened with an air of great displeasure. He looked with suspicion first at the owner, then at the counselor. Inn, or, in the local language, able, was on the side, in the steppe, far from any settlement, and very much looked like a robber's haven. But there was nothing to do. It was impossible to even think about continuing the journey. Savelich's anxiety amused me very much. Meanwhile, I settled down for the night and lay down on a bench. Savelich decided to go to the stove; the owner lay down on the floor. Soon the whole hut was snoring, and I fell asleep like the dead.

Waking up quite late in the morning, I saw that the storm had subsided. The sun was shining. The snow lay in a dazzling veil on the vast steppe. The horses were harnessed. I paid the owner, who took such a reasonable payment from us that even Savelich did not argue with him and did not bargain as usual, and yesterday’s suspicions were completely erased from his head. I called the counselor, thanked him for his help and told Savelich to give him half a ruble for vodka. Savelich frowned. “Half a ruble for vodka! - he said, - what is this for? Because you deigned to give him a ride to the inn? It's your choice, sir: we don't have any extra fifty. If you give everyone vodka, you’ll soon have to starve.” I couldn't argue with Savelich. The money, according to my promise, was at his complete disposal. I was annoyed, however, that I could not thank the person who rescued me, if not from trouble, then at least from a very unpleasant situation. “Okay,” I said coolly, “if you don’t want to give half a rouble, then take him something from my dress. He is dressed too lightly. Give him my hare sheepskin coat."

- Have mercy, Father Pyotr Andreich! - said Savelich. - Why does he need your hare sheepskin coat? He will drink it, the dog, in the first tavern.

“This, old lady, is not your sadness,” said my tramp, “whether I drink or not.” His nobility grants me a fur coat from his shoulder: it is his lordly will, and it is your serf’s business not to argue and obey.

- You are not afraid of God, robber! - Savelich answered him in an angry voice. “You see that the child doesn’t understand yet, and you’re glad to rob him, for the sake of his simplicity.” Why do you need a master's sheepskin coat? You won’t even put it on your damned shoulders.

“Please don’t be smart,” I told my uncle, “now bring the sheepskin coat here.”

- Lord, master! - my Savelich groaned. – The hare sheepskin coat is almost brand new! and it would be good for anyone, otherwise it’s a naked drunkard!

However, the hare sheepskin coat appeared. The man immediately began trying it on. In fact, the sheepskin coat that I had grown out of was a little narrow for him. However, he somehow managed to put it on, tearing it apart at the seams. Savelich almost howled when he heard the threads crackle. The tramp was extremely pleased with my gift. He walked me to the tent and said with a low bow: “Thank you, your honor! God reward you for your virtue. I will never forget your mercies." - He went in his direction, and I went further, not paying attention to Savelich’s annoyance, and soon forgot about yesterday’s blizzard, about my counselor and about the hare’s sheepskin coat.

Arriving in Orenburg, I went straight to the general. I saw a man who was tall, but already hunched over with old age. His long hair was completely white. The old faded uniform resembled a warrior from the time of Anna Ioannovna, and his speech was strongly reminiscent of a German accent. I gave him a letter from my father. At his name, he looked at me quickly: “My dear!” - he said. - How long ago, it seems, Andrei Petrovich was even younger than your age, and now he has such a hammer ear! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” He opened the letter and began to read it in a low voice, making his comments. “Dear Sir Andrei Karlovich, I hope that your Excellency”... What kind of ceremony is this? Ugh, how inappropriate he is! Of course: discipline is the first thing, but is this how they write to the old comrade?.. “Your Excellency has not forgotten”... um... “and... when... the late Field Marshal Min... campaign... also... Karolinka”... Ehe, brooder! So he still remembers our old pranks? “Now about the matter... I’ll bring my rake to you”... um... “keep a tight rein”... What are mittens? This must be a Russian proverb... What does “handle with gloves” mean?” – he repeated, turning to me.

“This means,” I answered him with an air as innocent as possible, “to treat him kindly, not too strictly, to give him more freedom, to keep a tight rein.”

“Hm, I understand... “and don’t give him free rein” - no, apparently, Yesha’s mittens mean the wrong thing... “At the same time... his passport”... Where is he? And, here... “write off to Semenovsky”... Okay, okay: everything will be done... “Allow yourself to be embraced without rank and... by an old comrade and friend” - ah! finally I guessed... and so on and so forth... Well, father,” he said, having read the letter and putting my passport aside, “everything will be done: you will be transferred as an officer to the *** regiment, and so as not to waste time, then tomorrow go to the Belogorsk fortress, where you will be on the team of Captain Mironov, a kind and honest man. There you will be in real service, you will learn discipline. There is nothing for you to do in Orenburg; distraction is harmful to a young person. And today you are welcome to dine with me.”

“It’s not getting any easier hour by hour! - I thought to myself, - what did it serve me that even in my mother’s womb I was already a guard sergeant! Where has this got me? To the *** regiment and to a remote fortress on the border of the Kyrgyz-Kaisak steppes!..” I dined with Andrei Karlovich, the three of us with his old adjutant. Strict German economy reigned at his table, and I think that the fear of sometimes seeing an extra guest at his single meal was partly the reason for my hasty removal to the garrison. The next day I said goodbye to the general and went to my destination.

Guard - special selected troops. The first guards regiments (Semenovsky, Preobrazhensky) appeared in Russia under Peter I. Unlike the rest of the army, they enjoyed advantages.

3

And the steward of money, and linen, and my affairs - a quote from the poem by D. I. Fonvizin “Message to my servants.” Caregiver (bookish, outdated) – a person who takes care of something, is in charge of something.

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The story is narrated on behalf of 50-year-old Pyotr Andreevich Grinev, who recalls the time when fate brought him together with the leader of the peasant uprising, Emelyan Pugachev.

Peter grew up in the family of a poor nobleman. The boy received practically no education - he himself writes that only by the age of 12, with the help of Uncle Savelich, was he able to “learn to read and write.” Until the age of 16, he led the life of a minor, playing with village boys and dreaming of a fun life in St. Petersburg, since he was enlisted as a sergeant in the Semenovsky regiment at a time when his mother was pregnant with him.

But his father decided differently - he sent 17-year-old Petrusha not to St. Petersburg, but to the army “to smell gunpowder”, to the Orenburg fortress, giving him the instruction to “preserve honor from a young age.” His teacher Savelich also went to the fortress with him.

At the entrance to Orenburg, Petrusha and Savelich got into a snowstorm and got lost, and only the help of a stranger saved them - he led them onto the road to their home. In gratitude for the rescue, Petrusha gave the stranger a hare sheepskin coat and treated him to wine.

Petrusha comes to serve in the Belogorsk fortress, which does not at all resemble a fortified structure. The entire army of the fortress consists of several “disabled” soldiers, and a single cannon acts as a formidable weapon. The fortress is run by Ivan Kuzmich Mironov, who is not distinguished by education, but is very kind and honest man. In truth, all the affairs in the fortress are run by his wife Vasilisa Egorovna. Grinev becomes close to the commandant’s family, spending a lot of time with them. At first, officer Shvabrin, who serves in the same fortress, also becomes his friend. But soon Grinev and Shvabrin quarrel because Shvabrin speaks unflatteringly about Mironov’s daughter, Masha, who Grinev really likes. Grinev challenges Shvabrin to a duel, during which he is wounded. While caring for the wounded Grinev, Masha tells him that Shvabrin once asked for her hand in marriage and was refused. Grinev wants to marry Masha and writes a letter to his father, asking for a blessing, but his father does not agree to such a marriage - Masha is homeless.

October 1773 arrives. Mironov receives a letter informing him of the Don Cossack Pugachev, posing as the late Emperor Peter III. Pugachev had already gathered a large army of peasants and captured several fortresses. The Belogorsk fortress is preparing to meet Pugachev. The commandant is going to send his daughter to Orenburg, but does not have time to do this - the fortress is captured by the Pugachevites, whom the villagers greet with bread and salt. All employees in the fortress are captured and must take an oath of allegiance to Pugachev. The commandant refuses to take the oath and is hanged. His wife also dies. But Grinev suddenly finds himself free. Savelich explains to him that Pugachev is the same stranger to whom Grinev once gave a hare sheepskin coat.

Despite the fact that Grinev openly refuses to swear allegiance to Pugachev, he releases him. Grinev leaves, but Masha remains in the fortress. He is sick, and the local priest tells everyone that she is her niece. Shvabrin was appointed commandant of the fortress, who swore allegiance to Pugachev, which cannot but worry Grinev. Once in Orenburg, he asks for help, but does not receive it. Soon he receives a letter from Masha, in which she writes that Shvabrin demands that she marry him. If she refuses, he promises to tell the Pugachevites who she is. Grinev and Savelich travel to the Belogorsk fortress, but on the way they are captured by the Pugachevites and again meet with their leader. Grinev honestly tells him where and why he is going, and Pugachev, unexpectedly for Grinev, decides to help him “punish the orphan who abused him.”

In the fortress, Pugachev frees Masha and, despite the fact that Shvabrin tells him the truth about her, lets her go. Grinev takes Masha to his parents, and he returns to the army. Pugachev’s speech fails, but Grinev is also arrested - at the trial, Shvabrin says that Grinev is Pugachev’s spy. He is sentenced to eternal exile in Siberia, and only Masha’s visit to the Empress helps to achieve his pardon. But Shvabrin himself was sent to hard labor.

CHAPTER I. SERGEANT OF THE GUARD

Pyotr Grinev was enrolled in the Semenovsky regiment as a sergeant even before his birth. He grew up in the village with his parents and was the only child in the family, as his eight brothers and sisters died in infancy. He was raised by the former stepladder Savelich, who by the age of twelve taught the boy to read, write and understand hunting dogs.

Then his father hired him a Frenchman, Beaupre, who did not stay in the house for long and was kicked out for having relationships with courtyard girls. When the young man turned sixteen, his father decided that the time had come for Petrusha to serve in the army, but not in the Semenovsky regiment in St. Petersburg - he would be spoiled by metropolitan life, but in Orenburg under the command of his old friend, General Andrei Karlovich R.

The mother, crying, equipped her son with long journey, the father gave his blessing, and Pyotr Andreevich left, accompanied by Uncle Savelich.

In Simbirsk, where they were supposed to buy the necessary things, Grinev met the hussar captain and immediately lost a hundred rubles to him in billiards. Despite Savelich's reproaches, the debt was repaid, and they moved on.

CHAPTER II. COUNSELOR

Petrusha and his uncle were already approaching their destination when a snowstorm caught them in the steppe. A strong snowstorm began and they got lost. Suddenly, an unfamiliar man appeared from somewhere, showed them the way and led them to the inn. There, their counselor had an allegorical conversation with the owner, from which Grinev understood nothing.

Waking up in the morning, in gratitude for the help provided, he gave the peasant his sheepskin coat. The counselor’s clothes turned out to be too small and were torn at the seams, but the tramp was still very pleased with this gift.

In Orenburg, Grinev came to General R., who sent him to the Belogorsk fortress under the command of Captain Mironov.

CHAPTER III. FORTRESS

The fortress was located forty miles from Orenburg and was a small village surrounded by a log fence with low thatched huts and a cannon at the gate.

Petrusha immediately went to the commandant; he was not at home, but his wife, Vasilisa Yegorovna, herself assigned the new arrival to billet. The next day he met Shvabrin, a young officer whom he really liked. They went together to the commandant. at the commandant's house they saw about twenty old disabled people lined up in front, commanded by Captain Mironov himself in a cap and robe.

He invited the young people to his house for dinner. It was there that Grinev first saw the commandant’s daughter, Masha, whom Shvabrin spoke of as a complete fool, and therefore treated her with prejudice, but soon changed his attitude.

CHAPTER IV. DUEHL

CHAPTER IV. DUEHL

Life in the fortress was monotonous. Pyotr Andreevich was received in the commandant's house as if he were his own, he really liked Mironov and his wife, and having gotten to know Masha better, he found in her a prudent and sensitive girl and fell in love with her.

One day he wrote poems to her and showed them to Shvabrin, hoping for praise, but the officer laughed at them and made an obscene remark about Masha. This greatly offended Grinev, and he challenged his friend to a duel. The commandant found out about this and banned the fight. Masha told Petrusha that at one time Shvabrin wooed her, but she refused him. Finally, the rivals seized the moment and the sword fight took place.

Savelich, who suddenly appeared, distracted Grinev’s attention, Shvabrin took advantage of this and wounded the enemy in the chest.

CHAPTER V. LOVE

Masha and Vasilisa Egorovna looked after the wounded man. Seeing the girl’s attitude towards him, Petrusha realized that she also loved him, proposed to her and received consent. He wrote a letter to his parents, asking for their blessing to marry Masha.

But the father refused the blessing, scolded his son for the duel and threatened to ask for his transfer to another fortress. Grinev and Masha were very upset, the girl cried, but refused to get married without a blessing. Pyotr Andreevich fell into a gloomy reverie and did not want to see anyone, but his love flared up more and more.

CHAPTER VI. PUGACHEVSHCHINA

At the beginning of October 1773, a letter arrived from General R., in which he warned about the danger of an attack on the fortress by the Cossack army led by the fugitive Don Cossack Emelyan Pugachev, posing as the late Emperor Peter the Third, and asked to take appropriate measures.

The commandant gave orders to the officers about guards and night watches, ordered them to clean the only cannon and, most importantly. keep your mouth shut. Meanwhile, he himself accidentally let it slip to his wife. Pugachev's army was approaching. there were many rumors about his size and strength.

The Nizhneozernaya fortress, located nearby, was taken, and the parents decided to send Masha to Orenburg to her godmother. But she did not have time to leave: in the morning the fortress was surrounded. All the residents gathered on the rampart.

CHAPTER VII. ATTACK

In the ranks of the attackers, Pugachev was visible in a red caftan, riding on a white horse. The commandant, having blessed Masha and said goodbye to Vasilisa Yegorovna, sent the women home, ordering his wife to put a sundress on her daughter. so that if something happens, she will be mistaken for a simple peasant woman.

The assault began. The battle was short-lived; the attackers far outnumbered the garrison. Having burst into the fortress, they demanded the keys from Captain Mironov, who was wounded in the head, and Grinev. who rushed to his aid was tied up. The prisoners were dragged to the square, where Pugachev was supposed to take the oath of allegiance from them.

The impostor sat in a chair on the porch of the commandant's house and administered justice to those captured. The commandant and lieutenant Ivan Ignatievich, who refused to recognize him as the Sovereign, were hanged; it was Grinev’s turn. At that moment, he saw among the rebels Shvabrin, with his hair cut in a circle and wearing a Cossack caftan, who said something to Pugachev, after which Pyotr Andreevich was dragged to the gallows without further proceedings.

Suddenly Savelich ran out of the crowd and begged Pugachev to pardon the young man. When the villagers began to swear allegiance to the impostor, a woman’s cry was heard, and Vasilisa Yegorovna was dragged onto the porch, who, seeing her husband hanged, began to lament. One of the Kazakhs hit her with a saber, and the commandant fell dead.

CHAPTER VIII. UNINVITED GUEST

In the evening, Grinev went to the commandant’s house and found out that his beloved was alive. She was saved by the maid Palash, passing her off as her sick niece. Masha, in a fever, lay behind the partition on Palash’s bed and almost did not come to her senses. Pyotr Andreevich returned home and was very surprised when Savelich declared that Pugachev was the man who led them out of the snowstorm. A little later, a Cossack appeared on behalf of the great Sovereign and conveyed the demand to appear before him.

Grinev found Pugachev and his associates having dinner. They all communicated as equals, without showing any preference to the leader. After dinner, the impostor sent everyone away to talk with Grinev alone. The young man answered honestly and directly, without hiding his thoughts, and Pugachev decided to let him go.

CHAPTER IX. PARTING

Pugachev orders Grineva to inform the Orenburg governor that the Pugachevites will be in the city in a week. Pugachev himself leaves the Belogorsk fortress, leaving Shvabrin as commandant. Savelich gives Pugachev a “register” of the lord’s plundered goods, Pugachev, in a “fit of generosity,” leaves him without attention and without punishment. He favors Grinev with a horse and a fur coat from his shoulder. Masha gets sick.

CHAPTER X. SIEGE OF THE CITY

CHAPTER X. SIEGE OF THE CITY

Grinev goes to Orenburg. Upon arrival, he saw that the city was preparing for a siege. The military decided to stick to defensive tactics, underestimating Pugachev, who soon approached Orenburg and began a siege. One day after a battle, Grinev met a Cossack who had lagged behind his own, and recognized him as a constable of the Belogorsk fortress, who gave him a letter from Masha. She wrote that Shvabrin was forcing her to marry him and asked for help.

Pyotr Andreevich immediately went straight to the general and began to ask for a company of soldiers and fifty Cossacks to take the Belogorsk fortress. The general refused, citing the distance.

CHAPTER X. SIEGE OF THE CITY

Grinev goes to Orenburg. Upon arrival, he saw that the city was preparing for a siege. The military decided to stick to defensive tactics, underestimating Pugachev, who soon approached Orenburg and began a siege. One day after a battle, Grinev met a Cossack who had lagged behind his own, and recognized him as a constable of the Belogorsk fortress, who gave him a letter from Masha. She wrote that Shvabrin was forcing her to marry him and asked for help.

Pyotr Andreevich immediately went straight to the general and began to ask for a company of soldiers and fifty Cossacks to take the Belogorsk fortress. The general refused, citing the distance.

CHAPTER XI. REBEL SLOBODA

Then Grinev went to the fortress with Savelich.

On the way, they were captured by the rebels and taken to Pugacheva. Grinev told him that he was going to free the orphan, and told him about Masha, calling her the priest’s niece, and about Shvabrina. The impostor believed, but Khlopusha decided to torture the prisoner with fire.

The young man’s life hung in the balance, but Grinev started a conversation. He thanked Pugachev for the sheepskin coat and the horse, without which he would have frozen, which amused his master. They had dinner, and in the morning they rode together in a wagon to the Beloror fortress.

CHAPTER XII. ORPHAN

There they were met by Shvabrin, who kept Masha locked up on bread and water. Pugachev freed her and wanted to immediately marry Grinev, as Shvabrin said that she was the daughter of Commandant Mironov. But the impostor forgave the young people for this deception and even ordered them to be given a pass to all his possessions.

CHAPTER XIII. ARREST

Soon, under the Tatishcheva fortress, Pugachev was defeated by the troops of Prince Golitsyn, but was able to escape. He showed up in Siberia, where he again began to raise the people, took Kazan and went to Moscow. Finally, news came of his defeat and capture, and Grinev was given leave so that he could go to his parents. But on the day appointed for departure, a secret order came for his arrest.

CHAPTER XIV. COURT

Pyotr Andreevich was put in a cart and brought under escort to Kazan, where the trial took place. Grinev spoke candidly about everything that concerned his acquaintance with Pugachev, but did not mention Masha, not wanting to involve her in this matter. Shvabrin, shackled, testified against him. He accused his former friend of spying for the rebels, but the name of Captain Mironov’s daughter was not mentioned in his testimony.

Masha, meanwhile, lived on the estate of Grinev’s parents, who loved her very much. One day they received a letter from St. Petersburg from one of the relatives who reported. that their son was threatened with the gallows, but out of respect for his father’s merits he would serve his sentence in Siberia. This dishonor almost killed her father, and Masha, feeling guilty, got ready and went to St. Petersburg.

The empress's court was in Tsarskoye Selo. The girl stayed in the caretaker's house. The next morning, while walking in the garden, she met a very pleasant lady, to whom she told everything about herself. The lady agreed to convey to the empress a petition for Grinev.

Returning to the caretaker’s house, Masha was drinking tea, when suddenly a carriage arrived and the girl was ordered to come to the empress. She recognized Catherine the Second as the lady she had spoken to in the morning. The Empress gave her a letter pardoning Grinev and promised to arrange their future. Masha fell at her feet. The Empress treated her kindly and released her. On the same day, the captain's daughter left for the village.

Pugachev was executed. Grinev was released from prison at the end of 1774, he was present at the execution of Pugachev, who recognized him in the crowd and nodded. Soon Pyotr Andreevich married Masha.

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