“Excuse me,” he said in French, “for coming without ceremony to make your acquaintance. Yesterday I learned of your arrival; the wish to see a human face at last took such hold of me that I couldn’t help myself. You’ll understand when you’ve lived here a little while.”
I guessed that this was the officer discharged from the guards for fighting a duel. We became acquainted at once. Shvabrin was far from stupid. His conversation was witty and entertaining. He described for me with great merriment the commandant’s family, their society, and the place that fate had brought me to. I was laughing wholeheartedly, when that same veteran who had been mending the uniform in the commandant’s anteroom came in and told me that Vasilisa Egorovna invited me to dine with them. Shvabrin volunteered to go with me.
As we approached the commandant’s house, we saw on a little square some twenty old veterans with long queues and three-cornered hats. They were lined up at attention. Before them stood the commandant, a tall and vigorous old man in a nightcap and a nankeen dressing gown. Seeing us, he came over and said a few kind words to me, and then went back to giving orders. We were going to stop and watch the drill; but he asked us to go to Vasilisa Egorovna, promising to follow us. “And here,” he added, “there’s nothing for you to watch.”
Vasilisa Egorovna received us simply and cordially and treated me as if she had known me for ages. The veteran and Palashka were setting the table.
“Why is my Ivan Kuzmich drilling so long today?” said the commandant’s wife. “Palashka, call the master to dinner. And where is Masha?”
Just then a girl of about eighteen came in, round-faced, rosy-cheeked, with light brown hair combed smoothly behind her ears, which were burning red. At first glance I did not like her very much. I looked at her with prejudice: Shvabrin had described Masha, the captain’s daughter, as a perfect little fool. Marya Ivanovna sat down in the corner and began to sew. Meanwhile cabbage soup was served. Vasilisa Egorovna, not seeing her husband, sent Palashka for him a second time.
“Tell the master: the guests are waiting, the soup’s getting cold; thank God, the drilling won’t run away; he’ll have time to shout his fill.”
The captain soon appeared, accompanied by the one-eyed old man.
“What’s this, my dearest?” his wife said to him. “The food’s long been served and there’s no sign of you.”
“See here, Vasilisa Egorovna,” Ivan Kuzmich replied, “I’ve been busy with my duties, drilling my good soldiers.”
“Enough now!” retorted the captain’s wife. “They only call it drill: your soldiers never learn, and you don’t know the first thing about it. Sit at home and pray to God—that would be better. Dear guests, please come to the table.”
We sat down to dinner. Vasilisa Egorovna did not stop talking for a moment and showered me with questions: who were my parents, were they still living, where did they live, and what was their situation? On hearing that my father owned three hundred peasant souls, she said:
“Fancy that! So there are rich people in the world! And all we have for souls, my dear, is the wench Palashka; but, thank God, we get by. There’s just one trouble: Masha. The girl’s of marrying age, but what dowry has she got? A besom, a brush, and three kopecks in cash (God forgive me!) to go to the bathhouse. It’s fine if a good man turns up; otherwise she’ll sit there a maiden bride forevermore.”
I glanced at Marya Ivanovna. She blushed all over, and tears even fell on her plate. I felt sorry for her, and I hastened to change the conversation.
“I’ve heard,” I said, rather beside the point, “that the Bashkirs13 are preparing to attack your fortress.”
“From whom, my dear boy, were you pleased to hear that?” asked Ivan Kuzmich.
“They told me so in Orenburg,” I replied.
“Fiddlesticks!” said the commandant. “We’ve heard nothing for a long time. The Bashkirs are frightened folk, and the Kirghiz have also been taught a good lesson. They’re not likely to go poking at us; and if they do, I’ll put such a scare into them, they’ll stay quiet for ten years.”
“And you’re not afraid,” I went on, turning to the captain’s wife, “to stay in a fortress exposed to such dangers?”
“Habit, my dear,” she replied. “It’s some twenty years ago that we were transferred here from the regiment, and, Lord help me, how afraid I was of those accursed heathens! The moment I saw their lynx hats and heard their shrieks, believe me, dear, my heart would stop dead! But now I’m so used to it that, if they come and tell us the villains are roaming around the fortress, I don’t even flinch.”
“Vasilisa Egorovna is a most courageous lady,” Shvabrin observed solemnly. “Ivan Kuzmich can testify to that.”
“Yes, see here,” said Ivan Kuzmich, “the woman doesn’t scare easily.”
“And Marya Ivanovna?” I asked. “Is she as brave as you are?”
