I glanced at these intimates of the usurper.  One was an old man frail and bent, remarkable for nothing but a blue riband crossed over his coarse gray cloth cafetan; but I shall never forget his companion.  He was tall, of powerful build, and seemed about forty-five.  A thick red beard, piercing gray eyes, a nose without nostrils, marks of the searing irons on his forehead and cheeks, gave to his broad face, pitted by small-pox a most fierce expression.  He wore a red shirt, a Kirghis robe, and wide Cossack pantaloons.  Although wholly pre-occupied by my own feelings, yet this company deeply impressed me.  Pougatcheff recalled me to myself quickly.

“What business brought you from Orenbourg?”

A bold idea suggested itself to my mind.  It seemed to me that Providence, leading me a second time before this robber, gave me the means of accomplishing my work.  I decided to seize the chance, and without reflecting on the step, I replied: 

“I am on the way to the fortress of Belogorsk to liberate an oppressed orphan there.”

Pougatcheff’s eyes flashed.  “Who dares to oppress an orphan?  Were he seven feet high, he shall not escape my vengeance.  Speak, who is the guilty one?”

“Alexis; he holds in slavery that same young girl whom you saw at Father Garasim’s, and wants to force her to marry him.”

“I shall give Alexis a lesson!  I’ll teach him to oppress my subjects.  I shall hang him.”

“Permit me a word,” said the man without nostrils.  “You were too hasty giving the command to Alexis.  You offended the Cossacks by giving them a noble as chief; do not offend the gentlemen by hanging one of them on the first accusation.”

“There is no need to pardon nor pity,” said the man with the blue riband.  “It would be no harm to hang Alexis, nor to question this gentleman.  Why does he visit us?  If he does not acknowledge you as Czar he has no justice to get at your hands; if he acknowledge you, why did he stay at Orenbourg with your enemies?  Will you not order him to prison, and have a fire lighted there?”

The old rascal’s logic seemed plausible even to myself.  I shuddered when I remembered into whose hands I had fallen.  Pougatcheff saw my trouble.

“Eh! eh! your lordship,” said he, winking, “it seems my field-marshal is right.  What do you think?”

The jesting tone of the chief restored my courage.  I replied calmly that I was in his power.

“Well,” said Pougatcheff, “tell me now the condition of your city?”

“It is, thank God, in a good state.”

“A good condition,” repeated the brigand, “when the people are dying of hunger.”

The usurper was right, but according to the duty imposed by my oath, I affirmed that it was a false report, and that the fort was sufficiently provisioned.

“You see he deceives you,” interrupted the man with the riband.  “All the deserters are unanimous in saying that famine and pestilence are at Orenbourg; that thistles are eaten as dainties there.  If you wish to hang Alexis, hang on the same gibbet this young fellow, that they may be equal.”