I was frightened by his military wisdom, and hastened to interrupt him:  “Captain Mironoff’s daughter has written me, begging for relief.  Alexis threatens to compel her to be his wife!”

“Ah!  Alexis, traitor!  If he fall into my hands I shall try him in twenty-four hours, and he shall be shot on the glacis of the fortress! meantime patience.”

“Patience!” I cried; “in the interval Marie will be compelled to obey him.”

“Oh,” said the General, “that would not be a misfortune—­it is better that she should become the wife of Alexis, who can protect her.  When we shall have shot the traitor, then she will find a better husband.”

“I would rather die,” I said with fury, “than yield her to Alexis.”

“I understand it all now,” said the old man.  “You are, no doubt, in love yourself with Marie Mironoff.  That’s another thing.  Poor boy!  Still, I can not give you a battalion and fifty Cossacks.  The thing is unreasonable.”  I hung my head in despair.  But I had a plan of my own.

XI.  THE REBEL CAMP.

I left the General and hastened to my quarters.  Saveliitch received me with his usual remonstrance:  “What pleasure, my lord, is there in fighting these drunken brigands?  If they were Turks or Swedes, all right; but these sons of dogs—­”

I interrupted him:  “How much money have I in all?”

“You have plenty,” said he with a satisfied air.  “I knew how to whisk it out of sight of the rogues.”  He drew from his pocket a long knitted purse full of silver coin.

“Saveliitch, give me half of what you have there, and keep the rest for yourself.  I am off for the fortress of Belogorsk.”

“Oh, Peter!” said the old serf, “do you not fear God?  The roads are cut off.  Have pity on your parents; wait a little; our troops will come and disperse the brigands, and then you can go to the four quarters of the world.”

“It is too late to reflect.  I must go.  Do not grieve, Saveliitch; I make you a present of that money.  Buy what you need.  If I do not return in three days—­”

“My dear,” said the old man, “I will go with you, were it on foot.  If you go, I must first lose my senses before I will stay crouching behind stone walls.”

There was never any use disputing with the old man.  In half an hour I was in the saddle, Saveliitch on an old, half-starved, limping rosinante, which a citizen, not having fodder, had given for nothing to the serf.  We reached the city gates; the sentinels let us pass, and we were finally out of Orenbourg.  Night was falling.  My road lay before the town of Berd, the headquarters of Pougatcheff.  This road was blocked up and hidden by snow; but across the steppe were traces of horses, renewed from day to day, apparently, and clearly visible.  I was going at a gallop, Saveliitch could scarcely keep up and shouted, “Not