“Shame upon you, you old dog, that notwithstanding my strict orders you wrote me nothing regarding my son, leaving to strangers the duty of telling me of his follies.  Is it thus you do your duty and fulfill your master’s will?  I shall send you to keep the pigs, for having concealed the truth, and for your condescension to the young man.  Upon receipt of this letter inform me immediately of the state of his health, which is, I hear, improving, and tell me precisely the place of his wound, and whether he has well attended.”

Evidently Saveliitch was not in the wrong, and I had offended him by my suspicions and reproaches.  I asked him to forgive me, but the old man was inconsolable.  “See to what I have lived!” he repeated; “see what thanks I have merited from my masters for all my long services!  I am an old dog!  I am a swine-herd, and more than all that, I caused your wound.  No, no, Peter, I am not in fault, it is the cursed Frenchman who taught thee to play with these steel blades, and to stamp and dance, as if by thrusting and dancing you could defend yourself from a bad man.”

Now, then, who had taken the pains to accuse me to my father?  The General, Andrew Karlovitch?  He did not trouble himself much about me; moreover, Ivan Mironoff had not thought it worth while to report my duel to him.  My suspicions fell on Alexis.  He only would find some advantage in this information, the consequence of which might be my dismissal from the fortress and separation from the Commandant’s family.  I went to tell every thing to Marie.  She met me on the doorstep.

“What has happened to you? how pale you are!”

“All’s over,” I replied, handing her my father’s letter.

It was her turn to blanch.  Having read the letter she returned it, and said in a trembling voice:  “It was not my destiny.  Your parents do not wish me in their family; may the will of God be done!  He knows better than we what is best for us.  There is nothing to be done in the matter, Peter; you, at least, may be happy.”

“It shall not be so,” I exclaimed, taking her hand.  “You love me, I am ready for any fate.  Let us go and throw ourselves at your parents’ feet.  They are simple people; they are neither haughty nor cruel; they will give us their benediction; we will marry; and in time, I am sure, we will soften my father.  My mother will intercede for us, and he will pardon me.”

“No, Peter, I will not marry you without the benediction of your parents.  You would not be happy without their blessing.  Let us submit to the will of God.  If you meet another bride, if you love her, may God be with you!  I, Peter, I will pray for both of you.”  Tears interrupted her, and she went away; I wished to follow her into the house, but I was not master of myself, and I went to my own quarters.  I was plunged in melancholy, when Saveliitch came to interrupt my reflections.

“There, my lord,” said he, presenting me a sheet of paper all covered with writing, “see if I am a spy on my master, and if I try to embroil father and son.”