As we
approached
Orenburg we saw a crowd of convicts with cropped heads,
and faces disfigured by the pincers of the executioner.
and faces disfigured by the pincers of the executioner.
Pushkin - Daughter of the Commandant
"You have lost it by the way," said he, "and pray what is that which
jingles in your pocket, barefaced liar that you are? "
"Jingling in my pocket? " replied the "_ouriadnik_," not a whit
disconcerted; "God forgive you, old man, 'tis a bridlebit, and never a
half rouble. "
"Well! well! " said I, putting an end to the dispute. "Thank from me he
who sent you: and you may as well try as you go back to find the lost
half rouble and keep it for yourself. "
"Many thanks, your lordship," said he, turning his horse round; "I will
pray God for ever for you. "
With these words, he started off at a gallop, keeping one hand on his
pocket, and was soon out of sight. I put on the "_touloup_" and mounted
the horse, taking up Saveliitch behind me.
"Don't you see, your lordship," said the old man, "that it was not in
vain that I presented my petition to the robber? The robber was ashamed
of himself, although this long and lean Bashkir hoss and this peasant's
'_touloup_' be not worth half what those rascals stole from us, nor what
you deigned to give him as a present, still they may be useful to us.
'From an evil dog be glad of a handful of hairs. '"
CHAPTER X.
THE SIEGE.
As we approached Orenburg we saw a crowd of convicts with cropped heads,
and faces disfigured by the pincers of the executioner. [61]
They were working on the fortifications of the place under the
pensioners of the garrison. Some were taking away in wheelbarrows the
rubbish which filled the ditch; others were hollowing out the earth with
spades. Masons were bringing bricks and repairing the walls.
The sentries stopped us at the gates to demand our passports.
When the Sergeant learnt that we came from Fort Belogorsk he took us
direct to the General.
I found him in his garden. He was examining the apple-trees which the
breath of autumn had already deprived of their leaves, and, with the
help of an old gardener, he was enveloping them in straw. His face
expressed calm, good-humour and health.
He seemed very pleased to see me, and began to question me on the
terrible events which I had witnessed. I related them.
The old man heard me with attention, and, while listening, cut the dead
branches.
"Poor Mironoff! " said he, when I had done my sad story; "'tis a pity! he
was a goot officer! And Matame Mironoff, she was a goot lady and
first-rate at pickled mushrooms.
