Pugatchef, thinking I did not want to explain
myself before witnesses, made a sign to his comrades to go away.
myself before witnesses, made a sign to his comrades to go away.
Pushkin - Daughter of the Commandant
It was
lighted by two tallow candles, and the walls were hung with gold paper.
All the rest of the furniture, the benches, the table, the little
washstand jug hung to a cord, the towel on a nail, the oven fork
standing up in a corner, the wooden shelf laden with earthen pots, all
was just as in any other "_izba_. Pugatchef sat beneath the holy
pictures in a red caftan and high cap, his hand on his thigh. Around
him stood several of his principal chiefs, with a forced expression of
submission and respect. It was easy to see that the news of the arrival
of an officer from Orenburg had aroused a great curiosity among the
rebels, and that they were prepared to receive me in pomp. Pugatchef
recognized me at the first glance. His feigned gravity disappeared at
once.
"Ah! it is your lordship," said he, with liveliness. "How are you? What
in heaven's name brings you here? "
I replied that I had started on a journey on my own business, and that
his people had stopped me.
"And on what business? " asked he.
I knew not what to say.
Pugatchef, thinking I did not want to explain
myself before witnesses, made a sign to his comrades to go away. All
obeyed except two, who did not offer to stir.
"Speak boldly before these," said Pugatchef; "hide nothing from them. "
I threw a side glance upon these two confederates of the usurper. One of
them, a little old man, meagre and bent, with a scanty grey beard, had
nothing remarkable about him, except a broad blue ribbon worn cross-ways
over his caftan of thick grey cloth. But I shall never forget his
companion. He was tall, powerfully built, and appeared to be about
forty-five. A thick red beard, piercing grey eyes, a nose without
nostrils, and marks of the hot iron on his forehead and on his cheeks,
gave to his broad face, seamed with small-pox, a strange and indefinable
expression. He wore a red shirt, a Kirghiz dress, and wide Cossack
trousers. The first, as I afterwards learnt, was the deserter, Corporal
Beloborodoff. The other, Athanasius Sokoloff, nicknamed Khlopusha,[63]
was a criminal condemned to the mines of Siberia, whence he had escaped
three times. In spite of the feelings which then agitated me, this
company wherein I was thus unexpectedly thrown greatly impressed me. But
Pugatchef soon recalled me to myself by his question.
"Speak! On what business did you leave Orenburg? "
A strange idea occurred to me.
lighted by two tallow candles, and the walls were hung with gold paper.
All the rest of the furniture, the benches, the table, the little
washstand jug hung to a cord, the towel on a nail, the oven fork
standing up in a corner, the wooden shelf laden with earthen pots, all
was just as in any other "_izba_. Pugatchef sat beneath the holy
pictures in a red caftan and high cap, his hand on his thigh. Around
him stood several of his principal chiefs, with a forced expression of
submission and respect. It was easy to see that the news of the arrival
of an officer from Orenburg had aroused a great curiosity among the
rebels, and that they were prepared to receive me in pomp. Pugatchef
recognized me at the first glance. His feigned gravity disappeared at
once.
"Ah! it is your lordship," said he, with liveliness. "How are you? What
in heaven's name brings you here? "
I replied that I had started on a journey on my own business, and that
his people had stopped me.
"And on what business? " asked he.
I knew not what to say.
Pugatchef, thinking I did not want to explain
myself before witnesses, made a sign to his comrades to go away. All
obeyed except two, who did not offer to stir.
"Speak boldly before these," said Pugatchef; "hide nothing from them. "
I threw a side glance upon these two confederates of the usurper. One of
them, a little old man, meagre and bent, with a scanty grey beard, had
nothing remarkable about him, except a broad blue ribbon worn cross-ways
over his caftan of thick grey cloth. But I shall never forget his
companion. He was tall, powerfully built, and appeared to be about
forty-five. A thick red beard, piercing grey eyes, a nose without
nostrils, and marks of the hot iron on his forehead and on his cheeks,
gave to his broad face, seamed with small-pox, a strange and indefinable
expression. He wore a red shirt, a Kirghiz dress, and wide Cossack
trousers. The first, as I afterwards learnt, was the deserter, Corporal
Beloborodoff. The other, Athanasius Sokoloff, nicknamed Khlopusha,[63]
was a criminal condemned to the mines of Siberia, whence he had escaped
three times. In spite of the feelings which then agitated me, this
company wherein I was thus unexpectedly thrown greatly impressed me. But
Pugatchef soon recalled me to myself by his question.
"Speak! On what business did you leave Orenburg? "
A strange idea occurred to me.
