"
"Marya Ivanofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivanofna?
"Marya Ivanofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivanofna?
Pushkin - Daughter of the Commandant
What had become of her?
Had she had time to hide
herself? Was her place of refuge safe and sure? Full of these oppressive
thoughts, I went to the Commandant's house. All was empty. The chairs,
the tables, the presses were burned, and the crockery in bits; the
place was in dreadful disorder. I quickly ran up the little stair which
led to Marya's room, where I was about to enter for the first time in my
life.
Her bed was topsy-turvy, the press open and ransacked. A lamp still
burned before the "_kivott_"[56] equally empty; but a small
looking-glass hanging between the door and window had not been taken
away. What had become of the inmate of this simple maiden's cell? A
terrible apprehension crossed my mind. I thought of Marya in the hands
of the robbers. My heart failed me; I burst into tears and murmured the
name of my loved one. At this moment I heard a slight noise, and
Polashka, very pale, came out from behind the press.
"Oh, Petr' Andrejitch," said she, wringing her hands; "what a day, what
horrors!
"
"Marya Ivanofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivanofna? "
"The young lady is alive," replied Polashka; "she is hidden at Akoulina
Pamphilovna's. "
"In the pope's house! " I exclaimed, affrighted. "Good God! Pugatchef is
there! "
I rushed out of the room, in two jumps I was in the street and running
wildly towards the pope's house. From within there resounded songs,
shouts, and bursts of laughter; Pugatchef was at the table with his
companions. Polashka had followed me; I sent her secretly to call aside
Akoulina Pamphilovna. The next minute the pope's wife came out into the
ante-room, an empty bottle in her hand.
"In heaven's name where is Marya Ivanofna? " I asked, with indescribable
agitation.
"She is in bed, the little dove," replied the pope's wife, "in my bed,
behind the partition. Ah! Petr' Andrejitch, a misfortune very nearly
happened. But, thank God, all has passed happily over.
herself? Was her place of refuge safe and sure? Full of these oppressive
thoughts, I went to the Commandant's house. All was empty. The chairs,
the tables, the presses were burned, and the crockery in bits; the
place was in dreadful disorder. I quickly ran up the little stair which
led to Marya's room, where I was about to enter for the first time in my
life.
Her bed was topsy-turvy, the press open and ransacked. A lamp still
burned before the "_kivott_"[56] equally empty; but a small
looking-glass hanging between the door and window had not been taken
away. What had become of the inmate of this simple maiden's cell? A
terrible apprehension crossed my mind. I thought of Marya in the hands
of the robbers. My heart failed me; I burst into tears and murmured the
name of my loved one. At this moment I heard a slight noise, and
Polashka, very pale, came out from behind the press.
"Oh, Petr' Andrejitch," said she, wringing her hands; "what a day, what
horrors!
"
"Marya Ivanofna," cried I, impatiently, "where is Marya Ivanofna? "
"The young lady is alive," replied Polashka; "she is hidden at Akoulina
Pamphilovna's. "
"In the pope's house! " I exclaimed, affrighted. "Good God! Pugatchef is
there! "
I rushed out of the room, in two jumps I was in the street and running
wildly towards the pope's house. From within there resounded songs,
shouts, and bursts of laughter; Pugatchef was at the table with his
companions. Polashka had followed me; I sent her secretly to call aside
Akoulina Pamphilovna. The next minute the pope's wife came out into the
ante-room, an empty bottle in her hand.
"In heaven's name where is Marya Ivanofna? " I asked, with indescribable
agitation.
"She is in bed, the little dove," replied the pope's wife, "in my bed,
behind the partition. Ah! Petr' Andrejitch, a misfortune very nearly
happened. But, thank God, all has passed happily over.
