The Daughter of the Commandant | Page 5

not make me die of sorrow. Oh! my light, hearken to me who am old;
write to this robber that you were only joking, that we never had so
much money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him your parents
have strictly forbidden you to play for anything but nuts."
"Will you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting him. "Hand
over the money, or I will kick you out of the place."
Savéliitch looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and went to
fetch my money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I wished to
assert myself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine got his hundred
roubles.
Savéliitch was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn; he came
in telling me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk with an uneasy
conscience, and with some silent remorse, without taking leave of my

instructor, whom I little thought I should ever see again.
CHAPTER II.
THE GUIDE.
My reflections during the journey were not very pleasant. According to
the value of money at that time, my loss was of some importance. I
could not but confess to myself that my conduct at the Simbirsk Inn
had been most foolish, and I felt guilty toward Savéliitch. All this
worried me. The old man sat, in sulky silence, in the forepart of the
sledge, with his face averted, every now and then giving a cross little
cough. I had firmly resolved to make peace with him, but I did not
know how to begin. At last I said to him--
"Look here, Savéliitch, let us have done with all this; let us make
peace."
"Oh! my little father, Petr' Andréjïtch," he replied, with a deep sigh, "I
am angry with myself; it is I who am to blame for everything. What
possessed me to leave you alone in the inn? But what could I do; the
devil would have it so, else why did it occur to me to go and see my
gossip the deacon's wife, and thus it happened, as the proverb says, 'I
left the house and was taken to prison.' What ill-luck! What ill-luck!
How shall I appear again before my master and mistress? What will
they say when they hear that their child is a drunkard and a gamester?"
To comfort poor Savéliitch, I gave him my word of honour that in
future I would not spend a single kopek without his consent. Gradually
he calmed down, though he still grumbled from time to time, shaking
his head--
"A hundred roubles, it is easy to talk!"
I was approaching my destination. Around me stretched a wild and
dreary desert, intersected by little hills and deep ravines. All was
covered with snow. The sun was setting. My kibitka was following the
narrow road, or rather the track, left by the sledges of the peasants. All

at once my driver looked round, and addressing himself to me--
"Sir," said he, taking off his cap, "will you not order me to turn back?"
"Why?"
"The weather is uncertain. There is already a little wind. Do you not see
how it is blowing about the surface snow."
"Well, what does that matter?"
"And do you see what there is yonder?"
The driver pointed east with his whip.
"I see nothing more than the white steppe and the clear sky."
"There, there; look, that little cloud!"
I did, in fact, perceive on the horizon a little white cloud which I had at
first taken for a distant hill. My driver explained to me that this little
cloud portended a "bourane."[15] I had heard of the snowstorms
peculiar to these regions, and I knew of whole caravans having been
sometimes buried in the tremendous drifts of snow. Savéliitch was of
the same opinion as the driver, and advised me to turn back, but the
wind did not seem to me very violent, and hoping to reach in time the
next posting station, I bid him try and get on quickly. He put his horses
to a gallop, continually looking, however, towards the east. But the
wind increased in force, the little cloud rose rapidly, became larger and
thicker, at last covering the whole sky. The snow began to fall lightly at
first, but soon in large flakes. The wind whistled and howled; in a
moment the grey sky was lost in the whirlwind of snow which the wind
raised from the earth, hiding everything around us.
"How unlucky we are, excellency," cried the driver; "it is the bourane."
I put my head out of the kibitka; all was darkness and confusion. The
wind blew with such ferocity that it was difficult not to think it an
animated being.

The snow drifted round and covered us.