The Daughter of the Commandant | Page 7

come to meet me, looking very sad.
"Don't make a noise," she said to me. "Your father is on his death-bed,
and wishes to bid you farewell."
Struck with horror, I followed her into the bedroom. I look round; the
room is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking
sad and cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the
curtain, and said--
"Andréj Petróvitch, Petróusha has come back; he came back having
heard of your illness. Give him your blessing."
I knelt down. But to my astonishment instead of my father I saw in the
bed a black-bearded peasant, who regarded me with a merry look. Full
of surprise, I turned towards my mother.
"What does this mean?" I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing?"

"It is the same thing, Petróusha," replied my mother. "That person is
your godfather.[17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you."
I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the
bed, quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood. The terrible peasant called me gently, saying to me--
"Fear nothing, come near; come and let me bless you."
Fear had stupified me....
At this moment I awoke. The horses had stopped; Savéliitch had hold
of my hand.
"Get out, excellency," said he to me; "here we are."
"Where?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"At our night's lodging. Heaven has helped us; we came by chance
right upon the hedge by the house. Get out, excellency, as quick as you
can, and let us see you get warm."
I got out of the kibitka. The snowstorm still raged, but less violently. It
was so dark that one might, as we say, have as well been blind. The
host received us near the entrance, holding a lantern beneath the skirt of
his caftan, and led us into a room, small but prettily clean, lit by a
loutchina.[18] On the wall hung a long carbine and a high Cossack cap.
Our host, a Cossack of the Yaïk,[19] was a peasant of about sixty, still
fresh and hale. Savéliitch brought the tea canister, and asked for a fire
that he might make me a cup or two of tea, of which, certainly, I never
had more need. The host hastened to wait upon him.
"What has become of our guide? Where is he?" I asked Savéliitch.
"Here, your excellency," replied a voice from above.

I raised my eyes to the recess above the stove, and I saw a black beard
and two sparkling eyes.
"Well, are you cold?"
"How could I not be cold," answered he, "in a little caftan all holes? I
had a touloup, but, it's no good hiding it, I left it yesterday in pawn at
the brandy shop; the cold did not seem to me then so keen."
At this moment the host re-entered with the boiling samovar.[20] I
offered our guide a cup of tea. He at once jumped down.
I was struck by his appearance. He was a man about forty, middle
height, thin, but broad-shouldered. His black beard was beginning to
turn grey; his large quick eyes roved incessantly around. In his face
there was an expression rather pleasant, but slightly mischievous. His
hair was cut short. He wore a little torn armak,[21] and wide Tartar
trousers.
I offered him a cup of tea; he tasted it, and made a wry face.
"Do me the favour, your excellency," said he to me, "to give me a glass
of brandy; we Cossacks do not generally drink tea."
I willingly acceded to his desire. The host took from one of the shelves
of the press a jug and a glass, approached him, and, having looked him
well in the face--
"Well, well," said he, "so here you are again in our part of the world.
Where, in heaven's name, do you come from now?"
My guide winked in a meaning manner, and replied by the well-known
saying--
"The sparrow was flying about in the orchard; he was eating hempseed;
the grandmother threw a stone at him, and missed him. And you, how
are you all getting on?"
"How are we all getting on?" rejoined the host, still speaking in

proverbs.
"Vespers were beginning to ring, but the wife of the pope[22] forbid it;
the pope went away on a visit, and the devils are abroad in the
churchyard."
"Shut up, uncle," retorted the vagabond. "When it rains there will be
mushrooms, and when you find mushrooms you will find a basket to
put