“Is he mad?” I cried.

“I can not tell, your lordship.”

I jumped up the steps—­the sentinels had not time to stop me—­and burst into the room where six hussar officers were playing faro.  The Major kept the bank.  I instantly recognized the Major as Ivan Zourine, who had so thoroughly emptied my purse at Simbirsk.  “Is it possible? is this you Ivan Zourine?”

“Halloo!  Peter; what luck? where are you from? will you take a chance?”

“Thanks; I would rather have some apartments assigned me.”

“No need of apartments, stay with me.”

“I can not; I am not alone.”

“Bring your comrade with you.”

“I am not with a comrade; I am with—­a lady.”

“A lady! where did you fish her out?” and he whistled in so rollicking a manner, that the rest burst out laughing.

“Well,” said Zourine, “then you must have a house in the town.  Here, boy! why do you not bring in Pougatcheff’s friend?”

“What are you about,” said I.  “It is Captain Mironoff’s daughter.  I have just obtained her liberty, and I am taking her to my father’s, where I shall leave her.”

“In the name of Heaven, what are you talking about?  Are you Pougatcheff’s chum?”

“I will tell you everything later; first go and see this poor girl, whom your soldiers have horribly frightened.”

Zourine went out into the street to excuse himself to Marie, and explain the mistake, and ordered the officer to place her and her maid in the best house in the city.  I stayed with him.  After supper, as soon as we were alone, I gave him the story of my adventures.

He shook his head.  “That’s all very well; but why will you marry?  As an officer and a comrade, I tell you marriage is folly!  Now listen to me.  The road to Simbirsk has been swept clean by our soldiers; you can therefore send the Captain’s daughter to your parents tomorrow, and remain yourself in my detachment.  No need to return to Orenbourg; you might fall again into the hands of the rebels.”

I resolved to follow, in part, Zourine’s advice.  Saveliitch came to prepare my room for the night.  I told him to be ready to set out in the morning with Marie.

“Who will attend you, my lord?”

“My old friend,” said I, trying to soften him, “I do not need a servant here, and in serving Marie, you serve me, for I shall marry her as soon as the war is over.”

“Marry!” repeated he, with his hands crossed, and a look of inexpressible blankness, “the child wants to marry!  What will your parents say?”

“They will, no doubt, consent as soon as they know Marie.  You will intercede for us, will you not?”

I had touched the old man’s heart.  “O Peter!” said he, “you are too young to marry, but the young lady is an angel, and it would be a sin to let the chance slip.  I will do as you desire.”

The next day I made known my plans to Marie.  As Zourine’s detachment was to leave the city that same day, delay was impossible.  I confided Marie to my dear old Saveliitch, and gave him a letter for my father.  Marie, in tears, took leave of me.  I did not dare to speak, lest the bystanders should observe my feelings.