What I feared was what happened. Hearing Pugachev’s suggestion, Shvabrin lost all control.
“My sovereign!” he cried in a frenzy. “I’m guilty, I lied to you; but Grinyov has also deceived you. This girl is not the local priest’s niece: she’s the daughter of Ivan Mironov, who was executed when the fortress was taken.”
Pugachev fixed his fiery eyes on me.
“What’s this now?” he asked, bewildered.
“Shvabrin is telling the truth,” I replied firmly.
“You didn’t tell me that,” remarked Pugachev, whose face darkened.
“Judge for yourself,” I replied. “Was it possible to announce in front of your people that Mironov’s daughter was alive? They’d have chewed her to pieces. Nothing could have saved her!”
“True enough,” said Pugachev, laughing. “My drunkards wouldn’t have spared the poor girl. The priest’s good wife did well to deceive them.”
“Listen,” I said, seeing his good humor. “I don’t know what to call you, and I don’t want to know…But, as God is my witness, I would gladly repay you with my life for what you’ve done for me. Only don’t demand what goes against my honor and my Christian conscience. You are my benefactor. Finish as you began: let me and the poor orphan go wherever God leads us. And wherever you may be and whatever may happen to you, we will pray to God every day for the salvation of your sinful soul…”
It seemed that Pugachev’s rude soul was touched.
“Be it as you say!” he said. “If it’s hanging, it’s hanging; if it’s mercy, it’s mercy: that’s my custom. Take your beauty; go wherever you want with her, and God grant you love and harmony.”
Here he turned to Shvabrin and ordered him to issue me a pass for all the outposts and fortresses subject to him. Shvabrin, totally crushed, stood as if dumbstruck. Pugachev went to inspect the fortress. Shvabrin went with him; but I stayed behind on the pretext of preparing for departure.
I ran to Masha’s room. The door was locked. I knocked.
“Who’s there?” asked Palasha. I gave my name. Marya Ivanovna’s dear little voice came from behind the door.
“Wait, Pyotr Andreich. I’m changing. Go to Akulina Pamfilovna’s: I’ll be there in a minute.”
I obeyed and went to Father Gerasim’s house. He and his wife came running out to meet me. Savelyich had already forewarned them.
“Greetings, Pyotr Andreich,” said the priest’s wife. “So God has granted that we meet again. How are you? We’ve talked about you every day. And Marya Ivanovna, my little dove, what she’s gone through without you!…But tell me, my dear, how is it you get along with this Pugachev? How is it he hasn’t done you in? Well, thanks to the villain for that at least.”
“Enough, old woman,” Father Gerasim interrupted. “Don’t blurt out everything in your head. There is no salvation in much talk. Dearest Pyotr Andreich, come in and be welcome. We haven’t seen you for a long, long time.”
His wife started offering me whatever they had to eat. Meanwhile she talked nonstop. She told me how Shvabrin had forced them to hand over Marya Ivanovna to him; how Marya Ivanovna had wept and had not wanted to part from them; how Marya Ivanovna had always kept in touch with them through Palashka (a pert young girl, who even made the sergeant dance to her tune); how she had advised Marya Ivanovna to write me a letter, and so on. And I in turn briefly told her my story. The priest and his wife crossed themselves on hearing that Pugachev knew of their deception.
“The power of the Cross be with us!” said Akulina Pamfilovna. “God grant that the cloud passes over. Ah, that Alexei Ivanych, really: what a fine goose he is!”
At that same moment the door opened, and Marya Ivanovna came in with a smile on her pale face. She had abandoned her peasant clothes and was dressed as before, simply and nicely.
I seized her hand and for a long time could not utter a word. Our hearts were so full we could not speak. Our hosts sensed that we had no need of them and left us. We remained alone. All else was forgotten. We talked and could not have enough of talking. Marya Ivanovna told me everything that had happened to her since the fortress was taken; she described all the horror of her situation, all the ordeals the vile Shvabrin had put her through. We also recalled the former happy time…We both wept…Finally I began to explain my proposals to her. To remain in a fortress subject to Pugachev and commanded by Shvabrin was impossible. There was no thinking of Orenburg, which was suffering all the adversities of the siege. She did not have a single relation in the world. I proposed that she go to my parents’ estate. At first she hesitated: she knew that my father was ill-disposed towards her and she was frightened. I reassured her. I knew that my father would count it as happiness and make it his duty to receive the daughter of a distinguished soldier who had died for the fatherland.
“Dear Marya Ivanovna!” I said finally. “I consider you my wife. Wondrous circumstances have united us indissolubly: nothing in the world can separate us.”
