The Daughter of the Commandant: Ch. 14 - The Trial

Ch. 14 - The Trial

I did not doubt that the cause of my arrest was my departure from
Orenburg without leave. Thus I could easily exculpate myself, for not
only had we not been forbidden to make sorties against the enemy, but
were encouraged in so doing.

Still my friendly understanding with Pugatch�f seemed to be proved by a
crowd of witnesses, and must appear at least suspicious. All the way I
pondered the questions I should be asked, and mentally resolved upon my
answers. I determined to tell the judges the whole truth, convinced
that it was at once the simplest and surest way of justifying myself.

I reached Khasan, a miserable town, which I found laid waste, and
well-nigh reduced to ashes. All along the street, instead of houses,
were to be seen heaps of charred plaster and rubbish, and walls without
windows or roofs. These were the marks Pugatch�f had left. I was taken
to the fort, which had remained whole, and the hussars, my escort,
handed me over to the officer of the guard.

He called a farrier, who coolly rivetted irons on my ankles.

Then I was led to the prison building, where I was left alone in a
narrow, dark cell, which had but its four walls and a little skylight,
with iron bars.

Such a beginning augured nothing good. Still I did not lose either hope
or courage. I had recourse to the consolation of all who suffer, and,
after tasting for the first time the sweetness of a prayer from an
innocent heart full of anguish, I peacefully fell asleep without giving
a thought to what might befall me.

On the morrow the gaoler came to wake me, telling me that I was summoned
before the Commission.

Two soldiers conducted me across a court to the Commandant's house,
then, remaining in the ante-room, left me to enter alone the inner
chamber. I entered a rather large reception room. Behind the table,
covered with papers, were seated two persons, an elderly General,
looking severe and cold, and a young officer of the Guard, looking, at
most, about thirty, of easy and attractive demeanour; near the window at
another table sat a secretary with a pen behind his ear, bending over
his paper ready to take down my evidence.

The cross-examination began. They asked me my name and rank. The
General inquired if I were not the son of Andr�j Petr�vitch Grineff, and
on my affirmative answer, he exclaimed, severely--

"It is a great pity such an honourable man should have a son so very
unworthy of him!"

I quietly made answer that, whatever might be the accusations lying
heavily against me, I hoped to be able to explain them away by a candid
avowal of the truth.

My coolness displeased him.

"You are a bold, barefaced rascal," he said to me, frowning. "However,
we have seen many of them."

Then the young officer asked me by what chance and at what time I had
entered Pugatch�f's service, and on what affairs he had employed me.

I indignantly rejoined that, being an officer and a gentleman, I had
not been able to enter Pugatch�f's service, and that he had not employed
me on any business whatsoever.

"How, then, does it happen," resumed my judge, "that the officer and
gentleman be the only one pardoned by the usurper, while all his
comrades are massacred in cold blood? How does it happen, also, that the
same officer and gentleman could live snugly and pleasantly with the
rebels, and receive from the ringleader presents of a '_pelisse_,' a
horse, and a half rouble? What is the occasion of so strange a
friendship? And upon what can it be founded if not on treason, or at the
least be occasioned by criminal and unpardonable baseness?"

The words of the officer wounded me deeply, and I entered hotly on my
vindication.

I related how my acquaintance with Pugatch�f had begun, on the steppe,
in the midst of a snowstorm; how he had recognized me and granted me my
life at the taking of Fort B�logorsk. I admitted that, indeed, I had
accepted from the usurper a "_touloup_" and a horse; but I had defended
Fort B�logorsk against the rascal to the last gasp. Finally I appealed
to the name of my General, who could testify to my zeal during the
disastrous siege of Orenburg.

The severe old man took from the table an open letter, which he began to
read aloud.

"In answer to your excellency on the score of Ensign Grineff, who is
said to have been mixed up in the troubles, and to have entered into
communication with the robber, communication contrary to the rules and
regulations of the service, and opposed to all the duties imposed by his
oath, I have the honour to inform you that the aforesaid Ensign Grineff
served at Orenburg from the month of Oct., 1773, until Feb. 24th of the
present year, upon which day he left the town, and has not been seen
since. Still the enemy's deserters have been heard to declare that he
went to Pugatch�f's camp, and that he accompanied him to Fort B�logorsk,
where he was formerly in garrison. On the other hand, in respect to his
conduct I can--"

Here the General broke off, and said to me with harshness--

"Well, what have you to say now for yourself?"

I was about to continue as I had begun, and relate my connection with
Marya as openly as the rest. But suddenly I felt an unconquerable
disgust to tell such a story. It occurred to me that if I mentioned her,
the Commission would oblige her to appear; and the idea of exposing her
name to all the scandalous things said by the rascals under
cross-examination, and the thought of even seeing her in their presence,
was so repugnant to me that I became confused, stammered, and took
refuge in silence.

My judges, who appeared to be listening to my answers with a certain
good will, were again prejudiced against me by the sight of my
confusion. The officer of the Guard requested that I should be
confronted with the principal accuser. The General bade them bring in
_yesterday's rascal._ I turned eagerly towards the door to look out for
my accuser.

A few moments afterwards the clank of chains was heard, and there
entered--Chvabrine. I was struck by the change that had come over him.
He was pale and thin. His hair, formerly black as jet, had begun to turn
grey. His long beard was unkempt. He repeated all his accusations in a
feeble, but resolute tone. According to him, I had been sent by
Pugatch�f as a spy to Orenburg; I went out each day as far as the line
of sharpshooters to transmit written news of all that was passing within
the town; finally, I had definitely come over to the usurper's side,
going with him from fort to fort, and trying, by all the means in my
power, to do evil to my companions in treason, to supplant them in their
posts, and profit more by the favours of the arch-rebel. I heard him to
the end in silence, and felt glad of one thing; he had never pronounced
Marya's name. Was it because his self-love was wounded by the thought of
her who had disdainfully rejected him, or was it that still within his
heart yet lingered a spark of the same feeling which kept me silent?
Whatever it was, the Commission did not hear spoken the name of the
daughter of the Commandant of Fort B�logorsk. I was still further
confirmed in the resolution I had taken, and when the judges asked me if
I had aught to answer to Chvabrine's allegations, I contented myself
with saying that I did abide by my first declaration, and that I had
nothing more to show for my vindication.

The General bid them take us away. We went out together. I looked calmly
at Chvabrine, and did not say one word to him. He smiled a smile of
satisfied hatred, gathered up his fetters, and quickened his pace to
pass before me. I was taken back to prison, and after that I underwent
no further examination.

I was not witness to all that I have still to tell my readers, but I
have heard the whole thing related so often that the least little
details have remained graven in my memory, and it seems to me I was
present myself.

Marya was received by my parents with the cordial kindness
characteristic of people in old days. In the opportunity presented to
them of giving a home to a poor orphan they saw a favour of God. Very
soon they became truly attached to her, for one could not know her
without loving her. My love no longer appeared a folly even to my
father, and my mother thought only of the union of her Petr�sha with the
Commandant's daughter.

The news of my arrest electrified with horror my whole family. Still,
Marya had so simply told my parents the origin of my strange friendship
with Pugatch�f that, not only were they not uneasy, but it even made
them laugh heartily. My father could not believe it possible that I
should be mixed up in a disgraceful revolt, of which the object was the
downfall of the throne and the extermination of the race of "_boy�rs_."
He cross-examined Sav�liitch sharply, and my retainer confessed that I
had been the guest of Pugatch�f, and that the robber had certainly
behaved generously towards me. But at the same time he solemnly averred
upon oath that he had never heard me speak of any treason. My old
parents' minds were relieved, and they impatiently awaited better news.
But as to Marya, she was very uneasy, and only caution and modesty kept
her silent.

Several weeks passed thus. All at once my father received from
Petersburg a letter from our kinsman, Prince Banojik. After the usual
compliments he announced to him that the suspicions which had arisen of
my participation in the plots of the rebels had been proved to be but
too well founded, adding that condign punishment as a deterrent should
have overtaken me, but that the Tzarina, through consideration for the
loyal service and white hairs of my father, had condescended to pardon
the criminal son, and, remitting the disgrace-fraught execution, had
condemned him to exile for life in the heart of Siberia.

This unexpected blow nearly killed my father. He lost his habitual
firmness, and his sorrow, usually dumb, found vent in bitter lament.

"What!" he never ceased repeating, well-nigh beside himself, "What! my
son mixed up in the plots of Pugatch�f! Just God! what have I lived to
see! The Tzarina grants him life, but does that make it easier for me to
bear? It is not the execution which is horrible. My ancestor perished on
the scaffold for conscience sake,[71] my father fell with the martyrs
Volynski and Khuchtchoff,[72] but that a '_boy�r_' should forswear his
oath--that he should join with robbers, rascals, convicted felons,
revolted slaves! Shame for ever--shame on our race!"

Frightened by his despair, my mother dared not weep before him, and
endeavoured to give him courage by talking of the uncertainty and
injustice of the verdict. But my father was inconsolable.

Marya was more miserable than anyone. Fully persuaded that I could have
justified myself had I chosen, she suspected the motive which had kept
me silent, and deemed herself the sole cause of my misfortune. She hid
from all eyes her tears and her suffering, but never ceased thinking how
she could save me.

One evening, seated on the sofa, my father was turning over the Court
Calendar; but his thoughts were far away, and the book did not produce
its usual effect on him. He was whistling an old march. My mother was
silently knitting, and her tears were dropping from time to time on her
work. Marya, who was working in the same room, all at once informed my
parents that she was obliged to start for Petersburg, and begged them to
give her the means to do so.

My mother was much affected by this declaration.

"Why," said she, "do you want to go to Petersburg? You, too--do you also
wish to forsake us?"

Marya made answer that her fate depended on the journey, and that she
was going to seek help and countenance from people high in favour, as
the daughter of a man who had fallen victim to his fidelity.

My father bowed his head. Each word which reminded him of the alleged
crime of his son was to him a keen reproach.

"Go," he said at last, with a sigh; "we do not wish to cast any
obstacles between you and happiness. May God grant you an honest man as
a husband, and not a disgraced and convicted traitor."

He rose and left the room.

Left alone with my mother, Marya confided to her part of her plans. My
mother kissed her with tears, and prayed God would grant her success.

A few days afterwards Marya set forth with Palashka and her faithful
Sav�liitch, who, necessarily, parted from me, consoled himself by
remembering he was serving my betrothed.

Marya arrived safely at Sofia, and, learning that the court at this time
was at the summer palace of Tzarskoe-Selo, she resolved to stop there.
In the post-house she obtained a little dressing-room behind a
partition.

The wife of the postmaster came at once to gossip with her, and
announced to her pompously that she was the niece of a stove-warmer
attached to the Palace, and, in a word, put her up to all the mysteries
of the Palace. She told her at what hour the Tzarina rose, had her
coffee, went to walk; what high lords there were about her, what she had
deigned to say the evening before at table, who she received in the
evening, and, in a word, the conversation of Anna Vlassi�fna[73] might
have been a leaf from any memoir of the day, and would be invaluable
now. Marya Ivanofna heard her with great attention.

They went together to the Imperial Gardens, where Anna Vlassi�fna told
Marya the history of every walk and each little bridge. Both then
returned home, charmed with one another.

On the morrow, very early, Marya dressed herself and went to the
Imperial Gardens. The morning was lovely. The sun gilded with its beams
the tops of the lindens, already yellowed by the keen breath of autumn.
The large lake sparkled unruffled; the swans, just awake, were gravely
quitting the bushes on the bank. Marya went to the edge of a beautiful
lawn, where had lately been erected a monument in honour of the recent
victories of Count Roumianzeff.[74]

All at once a little dog of English breed ran towards her, barking.
Marya stopped short, alarmed. At this moment a pleasant woman's voice
said--

"Do not be afraid; he will not hurt you."

Marya saw a lady seated on a little rustic bench opposite the monument,
and she went and seated herself at the other end of the bench. The lady
looked attentively at her, and Marya, who had stolen one glance at her,
could now see her well. She wore a cap and a white morning gown and a
little light cloak. She appeared about 50 years old; her face, full and
high-coloured, expressed repose and gravity, softened by the sweetness
of her blue eyes and charming smile. She was the first to break the
silence.

"Doubtless you are not of this place?" she asked.

"You are right, lady; I only arrived yesterday from the country."

"You came with your parents?"

"No, lady, alone."

"Alone! but you are very young to travel by yourself."

"I have neither father nor mother."

"You are here on business?"

"Yes, lady, I came to present a petition to the Tzarina."

"You are an orphan; doubtless you have to complain of injustice or
wrong."

"No, lady, I came to ask grace, and not justice."

"Allow me to ask a question: Who are you?"

"I am the daughter of Captain Mironoff."

"Of Captain Mironoff? He who commanded one of the forts in the Orenburg
district?"

"Yes, lady."

The lady appeared moved.

"Forgive me," she resumed, in a yet softer voice, "if I meddle in your
affairs; but I am going to Court. Explain to me the object of your
request; perhaps I may be able to help you."

Marya rose, and respectfully saluted her. Everything in the unknown lady
involuntarily attracted her, and inspired trust. Marya took from her
pocket a folded paper; she offered it to her protectress, who ran over
it in a low voice.

When she began she looked kind and interested, but all at once her face
changed, and Marya, who followed with her eyes her every movement, was
alarmed by the hard expression of the face lately so calm and gracious.

"You plead for Grineff," said the lady, in an icy tone. "The Tzarina
cannot grant him grace. He passed over to the usurper, not as an
ignorant and credulous man, but as a depraved and dangerous
good-for-nothing."

"It's not true!" cried Marya.

"What! it's not true?" retorted the lady, flushing up to her eyes.

"It is not true, before God it is not true," exclaimed Marya. "I know
all; I will tell you all. It is for me only that he exposed himself to
all the misfortunes which have overtaken him. And if he did not
vindicate himself before the judges, it is because he did not wish me to
be mixed up in the affair."

And Marya eagerly related all the reader already knows.

The lady listened with deep attention.

"Where do you lodge?" she asked, when the young girl concluded her
story. And when she heard that it was with Anna Vlassi�fna, she added,
with a smile: "Ah! I know! Good-bye! Do not tell anyone of our meeting.
I hope you will not have to wait long for an answer to your letter."

Having said these words, she rose and went away by a covered walk.

Marya returned home full of joyful hope.

Her hostess scolded her for her early morning walk--bad, she said, in
the autumn for the health of a young girl. She brought the "_samovar_,"
and over a cup of tea she was about to resume her endless discussion of
the Court, when a carriage with a coat-of-arms stopped before the door.

A lackey in the Imperial livery entered the room, announcing that the
Tzarina deigned to call to her presence the daughter of Captain
Mironoff.

Anna Vlassi�fna was quite upset by this news.

"Oh, good heavens!" cried she; "the Tzarina summons you to Court! How
did she know of your arrival? And how will you acquit yourself before
the Tzarina, my little mother? I think you do not even know how to walk
Court fashion. I ought to take you; or, stay, should I not send for the
midwife, that she might lend you her yellow gown with flounces?"

But the lackey declared that the Tzarina wanted Marya Iv�nofna to come
alone, and in the dress she should happen to be wearing. There was
nothing for it but to obey, and Marya Iv�nofna started.

She foresaw that our fate was in the balance, and her heart beat
violently. After a few moments the coach stopped before the Palace, and
Marya, after crossing a long suite of empty and sumptuous rooms, was
ushered at last into the boudoir of the Tzarina. Some lords, who stood
around there, respectfully opened a way for the young girl.

The Tzarina, in whom Marya recognized the lady of the garden, said to
her, graciously--

"I am delighted to be able to accord you your prayer. I have had it all
looked into. I am convinced of the innocence of your betrothed. Here is
a letter which you will give your future father-in-law." Marya, all in
tears, fell at the feet of the Tzarina, who raised her, and kissed her
forehead. "I know," said she, "you are not rich, but I owe a debt to
the daughter of Captain Mironoff. Be easy about your future."

After overwhelming the poor orphan with caresses, the Tzarina dismissed
her, and Marya started the same day for my father's country house,
without having even had the curiosity to take a look at Petersburg.

Here end the memoirs of Petr' Andr�j�tch Grineff; but family tradition
asserts that he was released from captivity at the end of the year 1774,
that he was present at the execution of Pugatch�f, and that the latter,
recognizing him in the crowd, made him a farewell sign with the head
which, a few moments later, was held up to the people, lifeless and
bleeding.

Soon afterwards Petr' Andr�j�tch became the husband of Marya Iv�nofna.
Their descendants still live in the district of Simbirsk.

In the ancestral home in the village of ---- is still shown the
autograph letter of Catherine II., framed and glazed. It is addressed to
the father of Petr' Andr�j�tch, and contains, with the acquittal of his
son, praises of the intellect and good heart of the Commandant's
daughter.

THE END.

Back to chapter list of: The Daughter of the Commandant