The Daughter of the Commandant

  THE DAUGHTER OF THE COMMANDANT

  A Russian Romance

  by

  ALEXKSANDR POUSHKIN

  Translated by Mrs. Milne Home

  Authoress of "Mamma's Black Nurse Stories," "West Indian Folklore"

  PREFACE.

  ALEXKSANDR POUSHKIN, the Poet, was born at Petersburg in 1799 of goodfamily, and died before he was forty, in the prime of his genius. Thenovel here offered to the public is considered by Russians his bestprose work. Others are _Boris Godunof_, a dramatic sketch, but neverintended to be put on the stage, and _The Prisoner of the Caucasus_.Among his poems are "The Gipsies," "Ruslan and Ludmilla," "The Fountainof Tears," and "Evgeni Oneghin." The last, if I mistake not, wastranslated into English some years ago. Some of Poushkin's writingshaving drawn suspicion on him he was banished to a distant part of theEmpire, where he filled sundry administrative posts. The Tzar Nicholai,on his accession in 1825, recalled him to Petersburg and made himHistoriographer. The works of the poet were much admired in society, buthe was not happy in his domestic life. His outspoken language made himmany enemies, and disgraceful reports were purposely spread abroadconcerning him, which resulted in a duel in which he was mortallywounded by his brother-in-law, George Danthes. His death was mournedpublicly by all Russia.

  M.P.M.H.

  April, 1891.

  CONTENTS.

  CHAPTER

  I. Sergeant of the GuardsII. The GuideIII. The Little FortIV. The DuelV. LoveVI. PugatchefVII. The AssaultVIII. The Unexpected VisitIX. The PartingX. The SiegeXI. The Rebel CampXII. The OrphanXIII. The ArrestXIV. The Trial

  CHAPTER I.

  SERGEANT OF THE GUARDS.

  My father, Andrej Petrovitch Grineff, after serving in his youth underCount Muenich,[1] had retired in 17--with the rank of senior major. Sincethat time he had always lived on his estate in the district of Simbirsk,where he married Avdotia, the eldest daughter of a poor gentleman in theneighbourhood. Of the nine children born of this union I alone survived;all my brothers and sisters died young. I had been enrolled as sergeantin the Semenofsky regiment by favour of the major of the Guard, PrinceBanojik, our near relation. I was supposed to be away on leave till myeducation was finished. At that time we were brought up in anothermanner than is usual now.

  From five years old I was given over to the care of the huntsman,Saveliitch,[2] who from his steadiness and sobriety was consideredworthy of becoming my attendant. Thanks to his care, at twelve years oldI could read and write, and was considered a good judge of the points ofa greyhound. At this time, to complete my education, my father hired aFrenchman, M. Beaupre, who was imported from Moscow at the same time asthe annual provision of wine and Provence oil. His arrival displeasedSaveliitch very much.

  "It seems to me, thank heaven," murmured he, "the child was washed,combed, and fed. What was the good of spending money and hiring a'_moussie_,' as if there were not enough servants in the house?"

  Beaupre, in his native country, had been a hairdresser, then a soldierin Prussia, and then had come to Russia to be "_outchitel_," withoutvery well knowing the meaning of this word.[3] He was a good creature,but wonderfully absent and hare-brained. His greatest weakness was alove of the fair sex. Neither, as he said himself, was he averse to thebottle, that is, as we say in Russia, that his passion was drink. But,as in our house the wine only appeared at table, and then only in_liqueur_ glasses, and as on these occasions it somehow never came tothe turn of the "_outchitel_" to be served at all, my Beaupre soonaccustomed himself to the Russian brandy, and ended by even preferringit to all the wines of his native country as much better for thestomach. We became great friends, and though, according to the contract,he had engaged himself to teach me _French, German, and all thesciences_, he liked better learning of me to chatter Russianindifferently. Each of us busied himself with our own affairs; ourfriendship was firm, and I did not wish for a better mentor. But Fatesoon parted us, and it was through an event which I am going to relate.

  The washerwoman, Polashka, a fat girl, pitted with small-pox, and theone-eyed cow-girl, Akoulka, came one fine day to my mother with suchstories against the "_moussie_," that she, who did not at all like thesekind of jokes, in her turn complained to my father, who, a man of hastytemperament, instantly sent for that _rascal of a Frenchman_. He wasanswered humbly that the "_moussie_" was giving me a lesson. My fatherran to my room. Beaupre was sleeping on his bed the sleep of the just.As for me, I was absorbed in a deeply interesting occupation. A map hadbeen procured for me from Moscow, which hung against the wall withoutever being used, and which had been tempting me for a long time from thesize and strength of its paper. I had at last resolved to make a kite ofit, and, taking advantage of Beaupre's slumbers, I had set to work.

  My father came in just at the very moment when I was tying a tail to theCape of Good Hope.

  At the sight of my geographical studies he boxed my ears sharply, sprangforward to Beaupre's bed, and, awaking him without any consideration, hebegan to assail him with reproaches. In his trouble and confusionBeaupre vainly strove to rise; the poor "_outchitel_" was dead drunk.My father pulled him up by the collar of his coat, kicked him out of theroom, and dismissed him the same day, to the inexpressible joy ofSaveliitch.

  Thus was my education finished.

  I lived like a stay-at-home son (_nedoross'l_),[4] amusing myself byscaring the pigeons on the roofs, and playing leapfrog with the lads ofthe courtyard,[5] till I was past the age of sixteen. But at this age mylife underwent a great change.

  One autumn day, my mother was making honey jam in her parlour, while,licking my lips, I was watching the operations, and occasionally tastingthe boiling liquid. My father, seated by the window, had just opened the_Court Almanack_, which he received every year. He was very fond ofthis book; he never read it except with great attention, and it had thepower of upsetting his temper very much. My mother, who knew all hiswhims and habits by heart, generally tried to keep the unlucky bookhidden, so that sometimes whole months passed without the _CourtAlmanack_ falling beneath his eye. On the other hand, when he did chanceto find it, he never left it for hours together. He was now reading it,frequently shrugging his shoulders, and muttering, half aloud--

  "General! He was sergeant in my company. Knight of the Orders of Russia!Was it so long ago that we--"

  At last my father threw the _Almanack_ away from him on the sofa, andremained deep in a brown study, which never betokened anything good.

  "Avdotia Vassilieva,"[6] said he, sharply addressing my mother, "howold is Petrousha?"[7]

  "His seventeenth year has just begun," replied my mother. "Petrousha wasborn the same year our Aunt Anastasia Garasimofna[8] lost an eye, andthat--"

  "All right," resumed my father; "it is time he should serve. 'Tis timehe should cease running in and out of the maids' rooms and climbing intothe dovecote."

  The thought of a coming separation made such an impression on my motherthat she dropped her spoon into her saucepan, and her eyes filled withtears. As for me, it is difficult to express the joy which tookpossession of me. The idea of service was mingled in my mind with theliberty and pleasures offered by the town of Petersburg. I already sawmyself officer of the Guard, which was, in my opinion, the height ofhuman happiness.

  My father neither liked to change his plans, nor to defer the executionof them. The day of my departure was at once fixed. The evening beforemy father told me that he was going to give me a letter for my futuresuperior officer, and bid me bring him pen and paper.

  "Don't forget, Andrej Petrovitch," said my mother, "to remember me toPrince Banojik; tell him I hope he will do all he can for my Petrousha."

  "What nonsense!" cried my father, frowning
. "Why do you wish me to writeto Prince Banojik?"

  "But you have just told us you are good enough to write to Petrousha'ssuperior officer."

  "Well, what of that?"

  "But Prince Banojik is Petrousha's superior officer. You know very wellhe is on the roll of the Semenofsky regiment."

  "On the roll! What is it to me whether he be on the roll or no?Petrousha shall not go to Petersburg! What would he learn there? Tospend money and commit follies. No, he shall serve with the army, heshall smell powder, he shall become a soldier and not an idler of theGuard, he shall wear out the straps of his knapsack. Where is hiscommission? Give it to me."

  My mother went to find my commission, which she kept in a box with mychristening clothes, and gave it to my father with, a trembling hand. Myfather read it with attention, laid it before him on the table, andbegan his letter.

  Curiosity pricked me.

  "Where shall I be sent," thought I, "if not to Petersburg?"

  I never took my eyes off my father's pen as it travelled slowly over thepaper. At last he finished his letter, put it with my commission intothe same cover, took off his spectacles, called me, and said--

  "This letter is addressed to Andrej Karlovitch R., my old friend andcomrade. You are to go to Orenburg[9] to serve under him."

  All my brilliant expectations and high hopes vanished. Instead of thegay and lively life of Petersburg, I was doomed to a dull life in a farand wild country. Military service, which a moment before I thoughtwould be delightful, now seemed horrible to me. But there was nothingfor it but resignation. On the morning of the following day a travelling_kibitka_ stood before the hall door. There were packed in it a trunkand a box containing a tea service, and some napkins tied up full ofrolls and little cakes, the last I should get of home pampering.

  My parents gave me their blessing, and my father said to me--

  "Good-bye, Petr'; serve faithfully he to whom you have sworn fidelity;obey your superiors; do not seek for favours; do not struggle afteractive service, but do not refuse it either, and remember the proverb,'Take care of your coat while it is new, and of your honour while it isyoung.'"

  My mother tearfully begged me not to neglect my health, and badeSaveliitch take great care of the darling. I was dressed in a short"_touloup_"[10] of hareskin, and over it a thick pelisse of foxskin. Iseated myself in the _kibitka_ with Saveliitch, and started for mydestination, crying bitterly.

  I arrived at Simbirsk during the night, where I was to stay twenty-fourhours, that Saveliitch might do sundry commissions entrusted to him. Iremained at an inn, while Saveliitch went out to get what he wanted.Tired of looking out at the windows upon a dirty lane, I began wanderingabout the rooms of the inn. I went into the billiard room. I found therea tall gentleman, about forty years of age, with long, blackmoustachios, in a dressing-gown, a cue in his hand, and a pipe in hismouth. He was playing with the marker, who was to have a glass of brandyif he won, and, if he lost, was to crawl under the table on all fours. Istayed to watch them; the longer their games lasted, the more frequentbecame the all-fours performance, till at last the marker remainedentirely under the table. The gentleman addressed to him some strongremarks, as a funeral sermon, and proposed that I should play a gamewith him. I replied that I did not know how to play billiards. Probablyit seemed to him very odd. He looked at me with a sort of pity.Nevertheless, he continued talking to me. I learnt that his name wasIvan Ivanovitch[11] Zourine, that he commanded a troop in the ----thHussars, that he was recruiting just now at Simbirsk, and that he hadestablished himself at the same inn as myself. Zourine asked me to lunchwith him, soldier fashion, and, as we say, on what Heaven provides. Iaccepted with pleasure; we sat down to table; Zourine drank a greatdeal, and pressed me to drink, telling me I must get accustomed to theservice. He told good stories, which made me roar with laughter, and wegot up from table the best of friends. Then he proposed to teach mebilliards.

  "It is," said he, "a necessity for soldiers like us. Suppose, forinstance, you come to a little town; what are you to do? One cannotalways find a Jew to afford one sport. In short, you must go to the innand play billiards, and to play you must know how to play."

  These reasons completely convinced me, and with great ardour I begantaking my lesson. Zourine encouraged me loudly; he was surprised at myrapid progress, and after a few lessons he proposed that we should playfor money, were it only for a "_groch_" (two kopeks),[12] not for theprofit, but that we might not play for nothing, which, according to him,was a very bad habit.

  I agreed to this, and Zourine called for punch; then he advised me totaste it, always repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

  "And what," said he, "would the service be without punch?"

  I followed his advice. We continued playing, and the more I sipped myglass, the bolder I became. My balls flew beyond the cushions. I gotangry; I was impertinent to the marker who scored for us. I raised thestake; in short, I behaved like a little boy just set free from school.Thus the time passed very quickly. At last Zourine glanced at the clock,put down his cue, and told me I had lost a hundred roubles.[13] Thisdisconcerted me very much; my money was in the hands of Saveliitch. Iwas beginning to mumble excuses, when Zourine said--

  "But don't trouble yourself; I can wait, and now let us go toArinushka's."

  What could you expect? I finished my day as foolishly as I had begun it.We supped with this Arinushka. Zourine always filled up my glass,repeating that I must get accustomed to the service.

  Upon leaving the table I could scarcely stand. At midnight Zourine tookme back to the inn.

  Saveliitch came to meet us at the door.

  "What has befallen you?" he said to me in a melancholy voice, when hesaw the undoubted signs of my zeal for the service. "Where did you thusswill yourself? Oh! good heavens! such a misfortune never happenedbefore."

  "Hold your tongue, old owl," I replied, stammering; "I am sure you aredrunk. Go to bed, ... but first help me to bed."

  The next day I awoke with a bad headache. I only remembered confusedlythe occurrences of the past evening. My meditations were broken bySaveliitch, who came into my room with a cup of tea.

  "You begin early making free, Petr' Andrejitch," he said to me, shakinghis head. "Well, where do you get it from? It seems to me that neitheryour father nor your grandfather were drunkards. We needn't talk ofyour mother; she has never touched a drop of anything since she wasborn, except '_kvass_.'[14] So whose fault is it? Whose but theconfounded '_moussie_;' he taught you fine things, that son of a dog,and well worth the trouble of taking a Pagan for your servant, as if ourmaster had not had enough servants of his own!"

  I was ashamed. I turned round and said to him--

  "Go away, Saveliitch; I don't want any tea."

  But it was impossible to quiet Saveliitch when once he had begun tosermonize.

  "Do you see now, Petr' Andrejitch," said he, "what it is to commitfollies? You have a headache; you won't take anything. A man who getsdrunk is good for nothing. Do take a little pickled cucumber with honeyor half a glass of brandy to sober you. What do you think?"

  At this moment a little boy came in, who brought me a note from Zourine.I unfolded it and read as follows:--

  "DEAR PETR' ANDREJITCH,

  "Oblige me by sending by bearer the hundred roubles you lost to meyesterday. I want money dreadfully.

  "Your devoted

  "IVAN ZOURINE."

  There was nothing for it. I assumed a look of indifference, and,addressing myself to Saveliitch, I bid him hand over a hundred roublesto the little boy.

  "What--why?" he asked me in great surprise.

  "I owe them to him," I answered as coldly as possible.

  "You owe them to him!" retorted Saveliitch, whose surprise becamegreater. "When had you the time to run up such a debt? It isimpossible. Do what you please, excellency, but I will not give thismoney."

  I then considered that, if in this decisive moment I did not oblige thisobstinate old man to obey me, it woul
d be difficult for me in future tofree myself from his tutelage. Glancing at him haughtily, I said tohim--

  "I am your master; you are my servant. The money is mine; I lost itbecause I chose to lose it. I advise you not to be headstrong, and toobey your orders."

  My words made such an impression on Saveliitch that he clasped his handsand remained dumb and motionless.

  "What are you standing there for like a stock?" I exclaimed, angrily.

  Saveliitch began to weep.

  "Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch," sobbed he, in a trembling voice; "donot 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 somuch money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him your parents havestrictly forbidden you to play for anything but nuts."

  "Will you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting him. "Handover the money, or I will kick you out of the place."

  Saveliitch looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and went tofetch my money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I wished to assertmyself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine got his hundredroubles.

  Saveliitch was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn; he came intelling me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk with an uneasyconscience, and with some silent remorse, without taking leave of myinstructor, whom I little thought I should ever see again.