“So you were wrong. You get up to mischief, and you’re not glad of it yourselves. I forgive you out of joy that God has let me see my son Pyotr Andreich. Well, all right: a repentant head isn’t put to the sword. You were wrong! Of course you were wrong! God has sent us fair weather, it’s time to get the hay in; and you, foolish people, what did you do for a whole three days? Headman! Send every man of them to the haymaking; and see to it, you red-haired rogue, that all the hay is in stacks for me by St. Elijah’s day.43 Off with you!”
The muzhiks bowed and went to their labor as if nothing had happened.
Shvabrin’s wound turned out not to be mortal. He was sent to Kazan under convoy. I saw from the window how they laid him in a cart. Our eyes met, he lowered his head, and I quickly stepped away from the window. I was afraid to seem as if I were triumphing over my unfortunate and humiliated enemy.
Zurin had to move further on. I decided to follow him, despite my wish to spend a few more days amidst my family. On the eve of the march I came to my parents and, following the custom of the time, bowed at their feet, asking their blessing for my marriage to Marya Ivanovna. The old people raised me up and with joyful tears gave their consent. I brought Marya Ivanovna to them, pale and trembling. They blessed us…What I felt then I am not going to describe. Whoever has been in my situation will understand me without that; whoever has not, I can only pity and advise, while there is still time, to fall in love and receive the blessing of his parents.
The next day the regiment made ready. Zurin took leave of our family. We were all certain that military action would soon be over; I hoped to be a husband within a month. Marya Ivanovna, saying good-bye to me, kissed me in front of everyone. I mounted up. Savelyich again followed me—and the regiment left.
For a long time I looked back at the country house I was again abandoning. A dark foreboding troubled me. Someone was whispering to me that my misfortunes were not all behind me. My heart sensed a new storm.
I will not describe our march and the end of the war with Pugachev. We passed through villages devastated by Pugachev, and of necessity took from the poor inhabitants what the brigands had left them.
They did not know whom to obey. Order broke down everywhere. Landowners hid in the forests. Bands of brigands spread their villainies everywhere. The commanders of separate detachments, sent in pursuit of Pugachev, who was then fleeing towards Astrakhan, arbitrarily punished the guilty and the guiltless…The condition of the whole region where the conflagration raged was terrible. God keep us from ever seeing a Russian rebellion—senseless and merciless. Those among us who plot impossible revolutions are either young and do not know our people, or are hard-hearted men, for whom another man’s head is worth little, and their own but little more.
Pugachev fled, pursued by Iv. Iv. Mikhelson. Soon we learned of his total defeat. Zurin finally received from his general the news of the impostor’s capture, and with it the order to halt. I could finally go home. I was in raptures; but a strange feeling clouded my joy.
*1 to be an
*2 ‘Madame, please, some vodka.’ (Russified French)
*3 “Very well.” (Tatar)
*4 rogue (German)
*5 The “omitted chapter” (see this page), rejected by Pushkin and preserved only in rough draft, would have gone here.
*6 This chapter was not included in the final version of
Journey to Arzrum
During the Campaign of 1829
PREFACE
Not long ago there came into my hands a book published in Paris last year (1834) under the title
Of poets who took part in the Turkish campaign, I knew only A. S. Khomyakov and A. N. Muravyov. Both were in the army of Count Dibich.2 At that time the former wrote some fine lyric poems; the latter was thinking over his journey to the holy places, which was to produce such a strong impression. But I had not read any satire on the Arzrum campaign.
