Having shown the poor orphan such kindness, the empress let her go. Marya Ivanovna drove off in the same court carriage. Anna Vlasyevna, who was impatiently awaiting her return, showered her with questions, which Marya Ivanovna answered absently. Though Anna Vlasyevna was displeased by such obliviousness, she ascribed it to provincial timidity and magnanimously forgave it. That same day, Marya Ivanovna, not at all curious to have a look at Petersburg, went back to the country…
The notes of Pyotr Andreevich Grinyov end here. From family tradition it is known that he was released from prison at the end of 1774, by imperial order; that he was present at the execution of Pugachev, who recognized him in the crowd and nodded to him with his head, which a moment later was shown, dead and bloodied, to the people. Soon afterwards Pyotr Andreevich married Marya Ivanovna. Their descendants still prosper in Simbirsk province. Twenty miles from * * * there is a village belonging to ten landowners. In one wing of the manor house a letter in the hand of Catherine II is displayed under glass and in a frame. It was written to Pyotr Andreevich’s father and contains the vindication of his son and praise of the mind and heart of Captain Mironov’s daughter. Pyotr Andreevich Grinyov’s manuscript was furnished us by one of his grandsons, who learned that we were occupied with a work related to the time described by his grandfather. We have decided, with the family’s permission, to publish it separately, having found a suitable epigraph for each chapter and allowed ourselves to change some proper names.
19 OCT. 1836
THE OMITTED CHAPTER*6
We were approaching the banks of the Volga; our regiment entered the village of * * * and stayed there for the night. The headman told me that all the villages on the opposite bank were in rebellion, that bands of Pugachev’s people were roaming everywhere. The news greatly alarmed me. We were supposed to cross the next morning. I was seized with impatience. My father’s estate was on the other side, twenty miles away. I asked if a ferryman could be found. All the peasants were fishermen; there were many boats. I went to Zurin and told him of my intention.
“Watch out,” he said to me. “It’s dangerous to go alone. Wait till morning. We’ll go across first and bring fifty hussars to visit your parents just in case.”
I insisted on my way. A boat was ready. I got into it with two oarsmen. They pushed off and plied their oars.
The sky was clear. The moon shone. The weather was calm. The Volga flowed smoothly and quietly. The boat, gently rocking, glided swiftly over the dark waves. I immersed myself in the dreams of my imagination. About half an hour went by. We had already reached the middle of the river…Suddenly the oarsmen began whispering to each other.
“What is it?” I asked, coming to myself.
“God only knows,” replied the oarsmen, looking off to one side. My eyes turned in the same direction, and in the darkness I saw something floating down the Volga. The unknown object was coming closer. I told the oarsmen to stop and wait for it. The moon went behind a cloud. The floating phantom became still more vague. It was already close to me, and I could not yet make it out.
“What could it be?” the oarsmen said. “A sail, a mast, or maybe not…”
Suddenly the moon came from behind the cloud and lit up a terrible sight. Floating towards us was a gallows mounted on a raft, with three bodies hanging from the crossbar. I was overcome with morbid curiosity. I wanted to look into the faces of the hanged men.
On my order the oarsmen caught the raft with a boathook, and my boat nudged against the floating gallows. I jumped out and found myself between the terrible posts. The bright moon lit up the disfigured faces of the unfortunate men. One of them was an old Chuvash, another a Russian peasant, a strong and robust lad of about twenty. But, glancing at the third, I was deeply shocked and could not help crying out pitifully: it was Vanka, my poor Vanka, who in his foolishness had joined Pugachev. Above them a black board had been nailed, on which was written in large white letters: “Thieves and Rebels.” The oarsmen looked on indifferently and waited for me, keeping hold of the raft with the boathook. I got back into the boat. The raft floated on down the river. For a long time the gallows loomed black in the darkness. Finally it disappeared, and my boat moored on the high and steep bank…
I paid the oarsmen generously. One of them took me to the headman of the village near the landing. I went into the cottage with him. The headman, hearing that I was requesting horses, received me quite rudely, but my guide quietly said a few words to him, and his severity turned at once into a hurried obligingness. In one minute a troika was ready, I got into the cart and ordered myself taken to our village.
