“The little dove is lying on my bed behind the partition.  Oh!  Peter, what danger we have just escaped!  The rascal had scarcely seated himself at table than the poor thing moaned.  I thought I should die of fright.  He heard her.  ‘Who is moaning in your room, old woman?’ ‘My niece, Czar.’  ‘Let me see your niece, old woman.’  I saluted him humbly; ‘My niece, Czar, has not strength to come before your grace.’  ‘Then I will go and see her.’  And will you believe it, he drew the curtains and looked at our dove, with his hawk’s eyes!  The child did not recognize him.  Poor Ivan Mironoff!  Basilia!  Why was Ignatius taken, and you spared?  What do you think of Alexis?  He has cut his hair and now hobnobs with them in there.  When I spoke of my sick niece he looked at me as if he would run me through with his knife.  But he said nothing, and we must be thankful for that.”

The drunken shouts of the guests, and the voice of Father Garasim now resounded together; the brigands wanted more wine, and Accoulina was needed.  “Go back to your house, Peter,” said she, “woe to you, if you fall into his hands!”

She went to serve her guests; I, somewhat quieted, returned to my room.  Crossing the square, I saw some Bashkirs stealing the boots from the bodies of the dead.  I restrained my useless anger.  The brigands had been through the fortress and had pillaged the officers’ houses.

I reached my lodging.  Saveliitch met me at the threshold.  “Thank God!” he cried.  “Ah! master, the rascals have taken everything; but what matter, since they did not take your life.  Did you not recognize their chief, master?”

“No, I did not; who is he?”

“What, my dear boy, have you forgotten the drunkard who cheated you out of the touloup the day of the snow-drift—­a hare-skin touloup?—­ the rascal burst all the seams putting it on.”

My eyes were opened.  The resemblance between the guide and Pougatcheff was striking.  I now understood the pardon accorded me.  I recalled with gratitude the lucky incident.  A youth’s touloup given to a vagabond had saved my neck; and this drunkard, capturing fortress, had shaken the very empire.

“Will you not deign to eat something?” said Saveliitch, true to his instincts; “there is nothing in the house, it is true, but I will find something and prepare it for you.”

Left alone, I began to reflect that not to leave the fortress, now subject to the brigand, or to join his troops, would be unworthy of an officer.  Duty required me to go and present myself where I could still be useful to my country.  But love counseled me, with no less force, to stay near Marie, to be her protector and champion.  Although I foresaw a near and inevitable change in the march of events, still I could not, without trembling, contemplate the danger of her position.