TASKS and KEYS
1
. One of Pugachev’s confidants, a frail and hunched old man with a gray beard, had nothing remarkable except a blue ribbon worn over his shoulder over his gray overcoat(A.S. Pushkin “The Captain’s Daughter”).
What do the words mean in this sentence? confidant, Armenian, puny?
Which ones are outdated?
KEYS Confidant– favorite, confidant; Armenian antique men's clothing peasants: long-skirted caftan made of coarse woolen fabric; puny- frail, frail. The first two words are obsolete.
2
.
7th grade Sort out the words according to their composition hunched over And put on. What parts of speech are these?
KEYS s-gorble-nn-y; na-de-t-oh. Participles.
8th grade Make sentences using the following diagrams:
I. [..., a, participial turnover, …].
II. [..., and the participial phrase, ...].
KEYS He did not leave, but, blushing slightly, stayed.
He was in no hurry to leave, but when he heard the music, he decided to stay.
3. 7th grade Execute phonetic analysis words extinct.
KEYS [extinguished]
^ 8th grade Except us, there was no one in the room.
Except There were two more of us in the room.
What shades of meaning does the preposition have in these sentences? except?
KEYS Preposition except may express a shade of exclusion or, conversely, inclusion.
4. Some Russian words have equivalents in Old Slavonic language, usually related to high book style. For example: shore - breg, furrow - rein and so on. The roots in such pairs are distinguished by so-called full vowels or incomplete combinations (-oro- And - ra-; -olo- And - la-; -here- And - re-).
Write down the words of the modern Russian language that have Old Church Slavonic roots with incomplete combinations.
^ Shore – breg, coastal
Gold – gold, golden-woven, Goldilocks, golden-headed
Cold – cold, cool, cool, cool, etc.
^ Beard- barber
Gates – gate, goalkeeper
Voice – voice, vowel, announce, etc.
5. 7th grade Make 2 sentences with a conjunction or so that in one sentence there is a comma before the conjunction, in the second - not. Explain the punctuation in the sentences you created.
KEYS Complex, consists of 2 simple sentences. Simple with homogeneous members.
8th grade In M. Gorky's play "Summer Residents" there is a short dialogue between two characters. Here he is:
“SUSLOV... They say you beat someone at the club...
DESIGNS (softly). It should be said about me: I won. If he beats you, that’s what they say about a cheater.”
5.1. Why did Suslov’s interlocutor decide that the word beat not applicable to decent person? Try to answer this question based on the morphemic composition of the verb.
5.2. Why in cognate verbs beat – won Are there different initial letters in the root?
KEYS 5.1. In a word beat the same prefix about- as in words cheated, burnt, (historically) deceived and so on.
6. 6.1. Determine the categories of pronouns.
KEYS 1) All(definitive) It was raining all day. 2) How many(asks.) time? 3) I don't know how much(relative) time. 4) I(personal) haven't seen her for a long time(personal) . 5) Every(definitive) knows that you need to respect not only yourself(returnable) , but also others(definitive) of people. 6) Himself(definitive) I became ashamed. 7) This(indicative) it was the most beautiful day of hers(possessive) life. 6.2. Which pronouns have you not come across? Give one example for each category.
6.3. 7th grade. In which pronouns the number of letters and sounds does not match. Why?
8th grade. Which pronouns have half the number of letters than the number of sounds?
7. Menu, folder, archive, library...
What these words have in common is that they all refer to vocabulary borrowed in the 19th and 20th centuries, but in the 21st century. they have updated their meaning to become computer terms.
Continue the series with 2-3 examples from the computer and Internet sphere.
KEYS Portal, forum, mail...
8. Write a short creative work(10 sentences) on the topic “Russian language on the Web.”
9th grade
1.
All of you on the butterfly of the poet's heart
Perched, dirty,
In galoshes and without galoshes...
(V. Mayakovsky)
1.1. What uses of words, in your opinion, are individually authored in this text? Give reasons for your answer.
1.2. Explain the placement of commas in a sentence (see task 1).
1.3. Compare the sound composition of two lines: 1) With and without galoshes; 2) *With or without galoshes.
How many sound differences? Which?
1.4. Galoshes – galoshes. What are the words in such pairs called? Why can't they be considered synonyms? Give 2-3 similar pairs.
KEYS 1.1. metaphor, possessive adjective
1.2. The definition is isolated
1.4. These are not synonyms, because the composition of the morphemes is the same (same-root synonyms differ in morphemic composition).
2 .How(That). We will write this word, taken out of context, with a hyphen. However, in some cases you can find the following writing: something.
Come up with a sentence in which separate spelling would be correct. Identify the parts of speech in each case.
KEYS. something– undefined places, something– conjunction + decree.. places.
3
. What prefixes of foreign origin have an original synonym? Give the meanings of the prefixes.
KEYS ^ Super- − synonym above- and so on.
4 . Come up with and write down 4 complex sentences with a subordinate clause according to the following schemes.
a) [... noun], (conjunctive word When…).
b) [... noun], (conjunctive word Where…).
c) [... noun], (conjunctive word What…).
d) [... noun], (conjunctive word where…).
Define syntactic role allied words.
5 . Really? the same Tatiana…
Determine the part of speech of the highlighted word. Specify the rank and value. Replace this obsolete word modern. What's unusual about this replacement?
Determine the category of pronouns.
KEYS Interrogative particle.
6 . Explain where the journalist went wrong:
^ The victim was a ninety-year-old man.
KEYS Lexical redundancy, incorrectness.
7. Come up with a motto for the Russian language Olympiad.
10-11 CLASS^ TASKS AND KEYS
1
. Don't believe, don't believe the poet, maiden,
Don't call him yours
And more than righteous anger
Be afraid poetic love...
(F.I. Tyutchev)
All of you on a butterfly poetic hearts
Perched, dirty,
In galoshes and without galoshes...
(V. Mayakovsky)
Compare the highlighted words. Which one is normal? Give reasons for your answer.
KEYS poets
2
. Incense, goodness, grace, complacency, euphony, trustworthiness, prudence, benevolence.
2.1. Which of these words are formed by addition; which ones - in a complex-suffix way? Prove it. Which word is missing? Why?
2.2. What is the feature of the root good- speaks of his Old Slavic origin?
2.3. Is there a Russian equivalent of this root in any word in the modern Russian language?
2.4. The root of which word (the second in a row) has undergone a change in its meaning in the history of the Russian language? What change is this? Why do you think so?
KEYS 2.2. Disagreement - la-. 2.3. Eat.
3
. Compare the draft and final version of Pushkin's text. Why did the author choose the second option?
I.
Tunes of Tass octaves!
II. ^ But sweeter, in the midst of nightly fun,
Chant of the Torquat octaves!
(A.S. Pushkin “Eugene Onegin”)
For reference. Torquato Tasso is an Italian poet of the Renaissance, the author of the famous and very popular poem “Jerusalem Liberated” in his time, written in eight lines. Some of them were set to music.
KEYS Since the replacement of the poet's surname with his name as the productive basis for possessive adjective does not affect the meaning of the sentence in any way; the answer should be sought in the peculiarities of the sound of the poems.
4
. The Russian language is sometimes “reproached” for illogicality and inconsistency.
However, the lack of strict, from the point of view of common sense, logic is inherent in language in general, i.e. not only Russian. So, in Italian the personal pronoun lei corresponds to Russian she, and in the spelling Lei (pronunciation is the same) - polite You.
Give 2-3 examples of “illogicalities” in the Russian language, based on your knowledge of morphology, vocabulary, etc.
KEYS ^ Let's go! (past tense in the sense of imperative), etc.. Intra-word antonymy (enantiosemy), etc.
5
.
Grade 10. How(That), How(That something; something like thatsomething, something;somehow, somehow).
Grade 11. How(That), How(That), What(or). Taken out of context, we will most likely write these words with a hyphen. However, in some cases you can find the following writing: something; like something. Come up with sentences in which separate spellings would be correct. Identify the parts of speech in each case ( something, something;somehow, somehow; anything, anything).
KEYS something– undefined places, somehow– pronominal adverb, anything– undefined places; something– conjunction + decree.. place., something like that- Same, anything– conjunction + conjunction.
6
. Returning from distant travels, some nobleman, or perhaps a prince, with his friend, walking on foot in a field, boasted about where he had been and referred to countless fables(I.A. Krylov) .
6.1. Place punctuation marks based on modern punctuation standards.
6.2. What speech features of this sentence are obsolete? Replace with modern ones if possible.
Grade 11. 6.3. How do sentences differ in meaning? where has he been And where he was?
KEYS 6.1. In original ( and maybe a prince). 6.2. It is impossible to replace historicisms.
7.
Grade 10. Come up with and write down 3 complex sentences in which the means of connecting the main and subordinate clause is the word Where. Subordinate clauses must be of the following types: defining, explanatory, adverbial.
Grade 11. Come up with and write down 4 complex sentences in which the means of connecting the main and subordinate clauses is the word What. Subordinate clauses must be of the following types: attributive, explanatory, adverbial, connecting.
Indicate in which sentence the means of communication is a conjunction, in which - union word(in the latter case, determine the part of speech and syntactic role).
8.
What was the original meaning of the Slavic verb be, if it is known that blade of grass, tops, past (everything is overgrown), violent(wild bloom), be related, have the same root?
KEYS The meaning of a specific physical action.
9
. Is everything correct in these advertising texts? Is everything correct?
1) Get married in Germany. Individual approach. We work until the marriage is registered.
2) Find out who is 40 years old and win a free spa facial
3) Find out how old you look.
4) Roll of the month. Teriyaki in masago.
5) Apartment your monetized property!(advertising for a residential complex under construction)
KEYS Punctuation errors and ambiguity. 2-5 are incorrect.
10
. Come up with a motto for the Russian language Olympiad.
At that time the lion was well-fed, even though he has been ferocious since birth.
“Why did you deign to welcome me to my den?” —
He asked kindly.
A. Sumarokov.
I left the general and hurried to my apartment. Savelich met me with his usual admonition. “You want, sir, to talk with drunken robbers! Is this a boyar thing? The hour is not certain: you will disappear for nothing. And it would be good if you went with a Turk or a Swede, otherwise it’s a shame to say who.” I interrupted his speech with a question: how much money do I have? “It will be yours,” he answered with a satisfied look. “No matter how the scammers fumbled, I still managed to hide it.” And with that word he took from his pocket a long knitted wallet full of silver. “Well, Savelich,” I told him, “give me half now; and take the rest for yourself. I’m going to the Belogorsk fortress.” - Father Pyotr Andreich! - said the kind guy in a trembling voice. - Fear God; how do you go on the road to present time, when there is nowhere to go from robbers! At least have pity on your parents, if you don’t feel pity on yourself. Where should you go? For what? Wait a little: the troops will come and catch the scammers; then go to all four directions. But my intention was firmly accepted. “It’s too late to talk,” I answered the old man. - I have to go, I can’t help but go. Don’t worry, Savelich: God is merciful; Maybe we'll see you! Be careful, don’t be ashamed and don’t be stingy. Buy what you need, even at exorbitant prices. I give this money to you. If I don't come back after three days... -What are you doing, sir? - Savelich interrupted me. - So that I let you in alone! Don’t even ask for this in your dreams. If you have already decided to go, then I will even follow you on foot, but I will not leave you. So that I can sit without you stone wall! Am I crazy? Your will, sir, and I will not leave you. I knew that there was no point in arguing with Savelich, and I allowed him to get ready for the journey. Half an hour later I mounted my good horse, and Savelich mounted a skinny and lame nag, which one of the city residents gave him for free, no longer having the means to feed it. We arrived at the city gates; the guards let us through; we left Orenburg. It was starting to get dark. My path went past Berdskaya Sloboda, Pugachev’s refuge. The straight road was covered with snow; but all over the steppe horse tracks were visible, renewed daily. I was riding at a fast trot. Savelich could hardly follow me from a distance and shouted to me every minute: “Quiet down, sir, for God’s sake, quiet down. My damn nag can’t keep up with your long-legged demon. Where are you in a hurry? It would be good to go to the feast, otherwise you’ll be in trouble... Pyotr Andreich... Father Pyotr Andreich! Soon the Berd lights began to sparkle. We approached ravines, the natural fortifications of the settlement. Savelich did not lag behind me, without interrupting his plaintive prayers. I was hoping to get around the settlement safely, when suddenly I saw in the darkness, right in front of me, about five men armed with clubs: this was the advanced guard of Pugachev’s refuge. They called out to us. Not knowing the password, I wanted to silently drive past them; but they immediately surrounded me, and one of them grabbed my horse by the bridle. I pulled out a saber and hit the man on the head; the hat saved him, but he staggered and let go of the bridle. The others were embarrassed and ran away; I took advantage of this moment, spurred my horse and galloped off. The darkness of the approaching night could have saved me from all danger, when suddenly, looking back, I saw that Savelich was not with me. The poor old man on his lame horse could not gallop away from the robbers. What was to be done? After waiting for him for several minutes and making sure that he was detained, I turned my horse and went to help him out. Approaching the ravine, I heard noise, screams and the voice of my Savelich from a distance. I drove faster and soon found myself again between the guard men who stopped me a few minutes ago. Savelich was between them. They pulled the old man off his nag and were preparing to tie him up. My arrival made them happy. They rushed at me screaming and instantly pulled me off the horse. One of them, apparently the main one, announced to us that he would now lead us to the sovereign. “And our father,” he added, “is free to order: whether to hang you now, or wait for the light of God.” I didn't resist; Savelich followed my example, and the guards led us away in triumph. We crossed the ravine and entered the settlement. Lights were burning in all the huts. Noise and screams were heard everywhere. On the street I met a lot of people; but no one noticed us in the darkness or recognized me as an Orenburg officer. We were led straight to a hut that stood at the corner of the intersection. At the gate there were several wine barrels and two cannons. “Here is the palace,” said one of the men, “now we’ll report on you.” He entered the hut. I looked at Savelich; the old man crossed himself, reading a prayer to himself. I waited a long time; Finally the man returned and said to me: “Go: our father ordered to let the officer in.” I entered the hut, or palace, as the men called it. It was lit by two tallow candles, and the walls were covered with gold paper; however, the benches, the table, the washstand on a rope, the towel on a nail, the grabber in the corner and the wide pole covered with pots - everything was like in an ordinary hut. Pugachev sat under the icons, in a red caftan, with a high hat and an important figure akimbo. Several of his chief comrades stood near him, with an air of feigned servility. It was clear that the news of the arrival of an officer from Orenburg aroused great curiosity among the rebels and that they were preparing to greet me with triumph. Pugachev recognized me at first sight. His false importance suddenly disappeared. “Ah, your honor! - he told me with liveliness. - How are you doing? Why did God bring you?” I replied that I was going about my business and that his people stopped me. “What business?” - he asked me. I didn't know what to answer. Pugachev, believing that I did not want to explain myself in front of witnesses, turned to his comrades and ordered them to leave. Everyone obeyed, except two, who did not move. “Speak boldly in front of them,” Pugachev told me, “I’m not hiding anything from them.” I glanced sideways at the impostor's confidants. One of them, a frail and hunched old man with a gray beard, had nothing remarkable about himself except a blue ribbon worn over his shoulder over his gray overcoat. But I will never forget his comrade. He was tall, portly and broad-shouldered, and seemed to me to be about forty-five years old. Thick Red beard, gray sparkling eyes, a nose without nostrils and reddish spots on his forehead and cheeks gave his pockmarked wide face an inexplicable expression. He was wearing a red shirt, a Kyrgyz robe and Cossack trousers. The first (as I learned later) was the fugitive corporal Beloborodov; the second is Afanasy Sokolov (nicknamed Khlopusha), an exiled criminal who escaped from the Siberian mines three times. Despite the feelings that exclusively worried me, the company in which I so accidentally found myself greatly entertained my imagination. But Pugachev brought me to my senses with his question: “Tell me: what business did you leave Orenburg for?” A strange thought occurred to me: it seemed to me that Providence, which had led me to Pugachev for the second time, was giving me an opportunity to put my intention into action. I decided to use it and, without having time to think about what I was deciding on, I answered Pugachev’s question: “I was going to the Belogorsk fortress to save an orphan who was being abused there. Pugachev’s eyes sparkled. “Which of my people dares to offend an orphan? - he shouted. “Even if he’s seven inches in the brain, he won’t escape my judgment.” Speak: who is to blame? “Shvabrin is guilty,” I answered. “He’s holding in captivity that girl you saw, sick, with the priest, and he wants to forcefully marry her.” “I’ll teach Shvabrin a lesson,” Pugachev said menacingly. “He will know what it’s like for me to be willful and offend people.” I'll hang him. “Order the word to be spoken,” said Khlopusha in a hoarse voice. “You were in a hurry to appoint Shvabrin as commandant of the fortress, and now you are in a hurry to hang him.” You have already insulted the Cossacks by placing a nobleman as their leader; Don’t frighten the nobles by executing them at the first slander. - There is no point in pitying or favoring them! - said the old man in the blue ribbon. “It’s no problem telling Shvabrin; and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to question the gentleman officer in order: why did you deign to come? If he doesn’t recognize you as sovereign, then there’s no point in looking for government from you, and if he recognizes you, what does he care? today sat in Orenburg with your adversaries? Would you like to order him to be taken to the office and light a light there: it seems to me that his honor was sent to us from the Orenburg commanders. I found the old villain's logic quite convincing. A chill ran through my entire body at the thought of whose arms I was in. Pugachev noticed my embarrassment. “Asya, your honor? - he told me winking. “My field marshal seems to be speaking the truth.” How do you think?" Pugachev's mockery restored my cheerfulness. I calmly replied that I was in his power and that he was free to do with me as he pleased. “Good,” said Pugachev. - Now tell me what state your city is in. “Thank God,” I answered, “everything is fine.” - Are you safe? - repeated Pugachev. - And the people are dying of hunger! The impostor spoke the truth; but I, out of duty of oath, began to assure that all these were empty rumors and that Orenburg had plenty of all kinds of supplies. “You see,” the old man picked up, “that he is deceiving you to your face.” All the fugitives agree that there is famine and pestilence in Orenburg, that they eat carrion there, and that only for honor; and His Grace assures us that there is plenty of everything. If you want to hang Shvabrin, then hang this fellow on the same gallows, so that no one will be jealous. The words of the damned old man seemed to shake Pugachev. Fortunately, Khlopusha began to contradict his comrade. “That’s enough, Naumych,” he told him. “You should strangle and cut everything.” What kind of hero are you? Look at what the soul holds. You look into your own grave, but you destroy others. Isn't there enough blood on your conscience? - What kind of a saint are you? - Beloborodov objected. -Where did your pity come from? “Of course,” answered Khlopusha, “I am a sinner, and this hand” (here he clenched his bony fist and, rolling up his sleeves, opened his shaggy hand), and this hand is guilty of shed Christian blood. But I destroyed the enemy, not the guest; at a free crossroads, but in a dark forest, not at home, sitting behind the stove; with a flail and a butt, and not with a woman’s slander. The old man turned away and grumbled the words: “Ragged nostrils!”... “What are you whispering there, you old brat?” - Khlopusha shouted. - I'll give you torn nostrils; wait, your time will come; God willing, you will smell the tongs... In the meantime, make sure I don’t rip out your beard! - Gentlemen enaraly! - Pugachev declared importantly. - You've had enough of quarreling. It wouldn’t matter if all the Orenburg dogs kicked their legs under the same crossbar; it would be a problem if our male dogs squabbled among themselves. Well, make peace. Khlopusha and Beloborodov did not say a word and looked at each other gloomily. I saw the need to change the conversation, which could end in a very unfavorable way for me, and, turning to Pugachev, I told him with a cheerful look: “Ah! I forgot to thank you for the horse and for the sheepskin coat. Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten to the city and would have frozen on the road.” My trick was a success. Pugachev was amused. “Debt pays off,” he said, blinking and squinting. “Tell me now, why do you care about that girl whom Shvabrin offends?” Isn’t there a sweet spot for a young man’s heart? A?" “She is my bride,” I answered Pugachev, seeing a favorable change in the weather and not finding the need to hide the truth. - Your bride! - Pugachev shouted. - Why didn’t you say it before? Yes, we will marry you and feast at your wedding! - Then, turning to Beloborodov: - Listen, Field Marshal! His honor and I are old friends; Let's sit down and have dinner; The morning is wiser than the evening. Tomorrow we'll see what we do with it. I was glad to refuse the offered honor, but there was nothing to do. Two young Cossack women, daughters of the owner of the hut, covered the table with a white tablecloth, brought bread, fish soup and several bottles of wine and beer, and for the second time I found myself sharing a meal with Pugachev and his terrible comrades. The orgy, which I was an involuntary witness, continued until late at night. Finally, the hops began to overcome the interlocutors. Pugachev dozed off while sitting in his place; His comrades stood up and gave me a sign to leave him. I went out with them. By order of Khlopushi, the guard took me to the official hut, where I found Savelich and where they left me locked up with him. The guy was in such amazement at the sight of everything that was happening that he didn’t ask me any questions. He lay down in the darkness and sighed and groaned for a long time; Finally he began to snore, and I indulged in thoughts that did not allow me to doze off for a single minute the whole night. In the morning they came to call me on behalf of Pugachev. I went to him. At its gate stood a wagon drawn by three Tatar horses. People crowded on the street. In the entryway I met Pugachev: he was dressed like a traveler, wearing a fur coat and a Kyrgyz hat. Yesterday's interlocutors surrounded him, assuming an air of servility that strongly contradicted everything that I had witnessed the day before. Pugachev greeted me cheerfully and ordered me to sit in the wagon with him. We sat down. “To the Belogorsk fortress!” - Pugachev said to the broad-shouldered Tatar, standing at the helm of the troika. My heart began to beat violently. The horses started moving, the bell rang, the wagon flew... “Stop! stop!” - a voice rang out, too familiar to me, - and I saw Savelich running towards us. Pugachev ordered to stop. “Father, Pyotr Andreich! - the guy shouted. “Don’t leave me in my old age in the midst of these scams...” - “Ah, old bastard! - Pugachev told him. - God allowed us to meet again. Well, sit down on the irradiator.” - Thank you, sir, thank you, dear father! - Savelich said as he sat down. “May God grant you a hundred years of health for looking after and reassuring me as an old man.” I will pray to God for you forever, but I won’t even mention the hare’s sheepskin coat. This hare sheepskin coat could finally seriously anger Pugachev. Fortunately, the impostor either did not hear or ignored the inappropriate hint. The horses galloped; people on the street stopped and bowed from the waist. Pugachev nodded his head to both sides. A minute later we left the settlement and rushed along a smooth road. You can easily imagine how I felt at that moment. In a few hours I was supposed to see the one whom I considered already lost to me. I imagined the moment of our union... I also thought about the man in whose hands my fate was and who, by a strange coincidence of circumstances, was mysteriously connected with me. I remembered the reckless cruelty, the bloodthirsty habits of the one who volunteered to be the deliverer of my dear! Pugachev did not know that she was the daughter of Captain Mironov; the embittered Shvabrin could reveal everything to him; Pugachev could have discovered the truth in another way... Then what will happen to Marya Ivanovna? The cold ran through my body and my hair stood on end... Suddenly Pugachev interrupted my thoughts, turning to me with a question: - What, your honor, did you deign to think about? “How can I not think about it,” I answered him. - I am an officer and a nobleman; Yesterday I fought against you, and today I’m riding with you in the same tent, and the happiness of my whole life depends on you. - Well? - asked Pugachev. -Are you scared? I answered that, having already been pardoned by him once, I hoped not only for his mercy, but even for his help. - And you’re right, by God you’re right! - said the impostor. “You saw that my guys were looking at you askance; and the old man still insisted today that you were a spy and that you should be tortured and hanged; but I didn’t agree,” he added, lowering his voice so that Savelich and the Tatar could not hear him, “remembering your glass of wine and the hare’s sheepskin coat.” You see that I am not such a bloodsucker as your brothers say about me. I remembered the capture of the Belogorsk fortress; but did not consider it necessary to challenge him and did not answer a word. — What do they say about me in Orenburg? - asked Pugachev, after a short silence. - Yes, they say that it’s difficult to get along with you; there is nothing to say: you made yourself known. The impostor's face showed satisfied pride. - Yes! - he said with a cheerful look. - I fight anywhere. Do you know in Orenburg about the battle of Yuzeeva? Forty enarals were killed, four armies were captured. What do you think: could the Prussian king compete with me? The robber's boastfulness seemed funny to me. - What do you think? - I said to him, - could you handle Fryderyk? — With Fyodor Fedorovich? Why not? I’m the one who manages your money; and they beat him. Until now my weapon was happy. Give it time, or else it will be before I go to Moscow. - Do you think about going to Moscow? The impostor thought a little and said in a low voice: - God knows. My street is cramped; I have little will. My guys are smart. They are thieves. I have to keep my ears open; at the first failure, they will ransom their neck with my head. - That's it! - I said to Pugachev. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to get away from them yourself, in advance, and resort to the mercy of the empress?” Pugachev smiled bitterly. “No,” he answered, “it’s too late for me to repent.” There will be no mercy for me. I will continue as I started. Who knows? Maybe it will work! Grishka Otrepyev reigned over Moscow after all. - Do you know how he ended up? They threw him out of the window, stabbed him, burned him, loaded a cannon with his ashes and fired him out! “Listen,” said Pugachev with some wild inspiration. “I’ll tell you a fairy tale that an old Kalmyk woman told me when I was a child.” One day an eagle asked a raven: tell me, raven bird, why have you lived in this world for three hundred years, and I am only thirty-three years old? “Because, father,” the raven answered him, “that you drink living blood, and I feed on carrion.” The eagle thought: let's try and eat the same thing. Fine. The eagle and the raven flew away. They saw a dead horse; came down and sat down. The raven began to peck and praise. The eagle pecked once, pecked again, waved its wing and said to the raven: no, brother raven; than to eat carrion for three hundred years, better times drink living blood, and then God willing! — What is a Kalmyk fairy tale? “Intricate,” I answered him. “But to live by murder and robbery means, for me, to peck at carrion.” Pugachev looked at me in surprise and did not answer. We both fell silent, each immersed in our own thoughts. The Tatar began to sing a sad song; Savelich, dozing, rocked on the beam. The carriage was flying along a smooth winter road... Suddenly I saw a village on the steep bank of the Yaik, with a palisade and a bell tower - and a quarter of an hour later we drove into the Belogorsk fortress.
| Captain's daughter |
|---|
| Chapter I Sergeant of the Guard |
| Chapter II Counselor |
| Chapter III Fortress |
| Chapter IV The Duel |
| Chapter V Love |
| Chapter VI Pugachevism |
| Chapter VII Attack |
| Chapter VIII Uninvited Guest |
| Chapter IX Separation |
| Chapter X Siege of the City |
| Chapter XI Rebel Settlement |
| Chapter XII Orphan |
| Chapter XIII Arrest |
| Chapter XIV Court |
| Application. Missing chapter |
Chapter XI
Rebel settlement
I left the general and hurried to my apartment. Savelich met me with his usual admonition. “You want, sir, to talk with drunken robbers! Is this a boyar thing? The hour is not certain: you will disappear for nothing. And it would be good if you went with a Turk or a Swede, otherwise it’s a shame to say who.”
I interrupted his speech with a question: how much money do I have? “It will be yours,” he answered with a satisfied look. “No matter how the scammers fumbled, I still managed to hide it.” And with that word he took from his pocket a long knitted wallet full of silver. “Well, Savelich,” I told him, “give me half now; and take the rest for yourself. I’m going to the Belogorsk fortress.”
Father Peter Andreich! - said the kind guy in a trembling voice. - Fear God; How can you go on the road at the present time, when there is no way to get anywhere from robbers! At least have pity on your parents, if you don’t feel pity on yourself. Where should you go? For what? Wait a little: the troops will come and catch the scammers; then go to all four directions.
But my intention was firmly accepted.
“It’s too late to talk,” I answered the old man. - I have to go, I can’t help but go. Don’t worry, Savelich: God is merciful; Maybe we'll see you! Be careful, don’t be ashamed and don’t be stingy. Buy what you need, even at exorbitant prices. I give this money to you. If after three days I don’t turn around...
What are you doing, sir? - Savelich interrupted me. - So that I let you in alone! Don’t even ask for this in your dreams. If you have already decided to go, then I will even follow you on foot, but I will not leave you. So that I could sit behind a stone wall without you! Am I crazy? Your will, sir, and I will not leave you.
I knew that there was no point in arguing with Savelich, and I allowed him to get ready for the journey. Half an hour later I mounted my good horse, and Savelich mounted a skinny and lame nag, which one of the city residents gave him for free, no longer having the means to feed it. We arrived at the city gates; the guards let us through; we left Orenburg.
It was starting to get dark. My path went past Berdskaya Sloboda, Pugachev’s refuge. The straight road was covered with snow; but all over the steppe horse tracks were visible, renewed daily. I was riding at a fast trot. Savelich could hardly follow me from a distance and shouted to me every minute: “Quiet down, sir, for God’s sake, quiet down. My damn nag can’t keep up with your long-legged demon. Where are you in a hurry? It would be good to go to the feast, otherwise you’ll be in trouble... Pyotr Andreich... Father Pyotr Andreich!
Soon the Berd lights began to sparkle. We approached ravines, the natural fortifications of the settlement. Savelich did not lag behind me, without interrupting his plaintive prayers. I was hoping to get around the settlement safely, when suddenly I saw in the darkness, right in front of me, about five men armed with clubs: this was the advanced guard of Pugachev’s refuge. They called out to us. Not knowing the password, I wanted to silently drive past them; but they immediately surrounded me, and one of them grabbed my horse by the bridle. I pulled out a saber and hit the man on the head; the hat saved him, but he staggered and let go of the bridle. The others were embarrassed and ran away; I took advantage of this moment, spurred my horse and galloped off.
The darkness of the approaching night could have saved me from all danger, when suddenly, looking back, I saw that Savelich was not with me. The poor old man on his lame horse could not gallop away from the robbers. What was to be done? After waiting for him for several minutes and making sure that he was detained, I turned my horse and went to help him out.
Approaching the ravine, I heard noise, screams and the voice of my Savelich from a distance. I drove faster and soon found myself again between the guard men who stopped me a few minutes ago. Savelich was between them. They pulled the old man off his nag and were preparing to tie him up. My arrival made them happy. They rushed at me screaming and instantly pulled me off the horse. One of them, apparently the main one, announced to us that he would now lead us to the sovereign. “And our father,” he added, “is free to order: whether to hang you now, or wait for the light of God.” I didn't resist; Savelich followed my example, and the guards led us away in triumph.
We crossed the ravine and entered the settlement. Lights were burning in all the huts. Noise and screams were heard everywhere. On the street I met a lot of people; but no one noticed us in the darkness or recognized me as an Orenburg officer. We were led straight to a hut that stood at the corner of the intersection. At the gate there were several wine barrels and two cannons. “Here is the palace,” said one of the men, “now we’ll report on you.” He entered the hut. I looked at Savelich; the old man crossed himself, reading a prayer to himself. I waited a long time; Finally the man returned and said to me: “Go: our father ordered to let the officer in.”
I entered the hut, or palace, as the men called it. It was lit by two tallow candles, and the walls were covered with gold paper; however, the benches, the table, the washstand on a string, the towel on a nail, the grabber in the corner and the wide pole covered with pots - everything was like in an ordinary hut. Pugachev sat under the icons, in a red caftan, with a high hat and an important figure akimbo. Several of his chief comrades stood near him, with an air of feigned servility. It was clear that the news of the arrival of an officer from Orenburg aroused great curiosity among the rebels and that they were preparing to greet me with triumph. Pugachev recognized me at first sight. His false importance suddenly disappeared. “Ah, your honor! - he told me with liveliness. - How are you doing? Why did God bring you?” I replied that I was going about my business and that his people stopped me. “What business?” - he asked me. I didn't know what to answer. Pugachev, believing that I did not want to explain myself in front of witnesses, turned to his comrades and ordered them to leave. Everyone obeyed, except two, who did not move. “Speak boldly in front of them,” Pugachev told me, “I don’t hide anything from them.” I glanced sideways at the impostor's confidants. One of them, a frail and hunched old man with a gray beard, had nothing remarkable about himself except a blue ribbon worn over his shoulder over his gray overcoat. But I will never forget his comrade. He was tall, portly and broad-shouldered, and seemed to me to be about forty-five years old. A thick red beard, gray sparkling eyes, a nose without nostrils and reddish spots on his forehead and cheeks gave his pockmarked wide face an inexplicable expression. He was wearing a red shirt, a Kyrgyz robe and Cossack trousers. The first (as I learned later) was the fugitive corporal Beloborodov; the second is Afanasy Sokolov (nicknamed Khlopusha), an exiled criminal who escaped from Siberian mines three times. Despite the feelings that exclusively worried me, the company in which I so accidentally found myself greatly entertained my imagination. But Pugachev brought me to my senses with his question: “Tell me: what business did you leave Orenburg for?”
A strange thought occurred to me: it seemed to me that Providence, which had led me to Pugachev for the second time, was giving me an opportunity to put my intention into action. I decided to use it and, without having time to think about what I was deciding on, I answered Pugachev’s question:
I was going to the Belogorsk fortress to deliver an orphan who was being abused there.
Pugachev’s eyes sparkled. “Which of my people dares to offend an orphan? - he shouted. “Even if he’s a sliver of a brain, he won’t escape my judgment.” Speak: who is to blame?
Shvabrin is guilty,” I answered. “He is holding in captivity that girl you saw, sick, at the priest’s house, and he wants to forcefully marry her.
“I’ll teach Shvabrin a lesson,” Pugachev said menacingly. “He will know what it’s like for me to be willful and offend people.” I'll hang him.
Order the word to be spoken,” said Khlopusha in a hoarse voice. “You were in a hurry to appoint Shvabrin as commandant of the fortress, and now you are in a hurry to hang him.” You have already insulted the Cossacks by placing a nobleman as their leader; Don’t frighten the nobles by executing them at the first slander.
There is no point in pitying or favoring them! - said the old man in the blue ribbon. - It’s no problem to say Shvabrin; and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to question the gentleman officer in order: why did you deign to come? If he doesn’t recognize you as sovereign, then there’s no point in looking for government from you, but if he admits that until today he was sitting in Orenburg with your adversaries? Would you like to order him to be taken to the office and light a light there: it seems to me that his honor was sent to us from the Orenburg commanders.
I found the old villain's logic quite convincing. A chill ran through my entire body at the thought of whose arms I was in. Pugachev noticed my embarrassment. “Asya, your honor? - he told me winking. - My field marshal seems to be speaking the point. How do you think?"
Pugachev's mockery restored my cheerfulness. I calmly replied that I was in his power and that he was free to do with me as he pleased.
“Okay,” said Pugachev. - Now tell me what state your city is in.
“Thank God,” I answered, “everything is fine.”
Safely? - repeated Pugachev. - And the people are dying of hunger!
The impostor spoke the truth; but I, out of duty of oath, began to assure that all these were empty rumors and that Orenburg had plenty of all kinds of supplies.
“You see,” the old man picked up, “that he is deceiving you to your face.” All the fugitives agree that there is famine and pestilence in Orenburg, that they eat carrion there, and that only for honor; and His Grace assures us that there is plenty of everything. If you want to hang Shvabrin, then hang this fellow on the same gallows, so that no one will be jealous.
The words of the damned old man seemed to shake Pugachev. Fortunately, Khlopusha began to contradict his comrade.
That’s enough, Naumych,” he told him. - You should strangle and cut everything. What kind of hero are you? Look at what the soul holds. You look into your own grave, but you destroy others. Isn't there enough blood on your conscience?
What kind of a saint are you? - Beloborodov objected. - Where did your pity come from?
Of course,” answered Khlopusha, “I am a sinner, and this hand (here he clenched his bony fist and, rolling up his sleeves, opened his shaggy hand), and this hand is guilty of shed Christian blood. But I destroyed the enemy, not the guest; at a free crossroads, but in a dark forest, not at home, sitting behind the stove; with a flail and a butt, and not with a woman’s slander.
The old man turned away and grumbled the words: “Ragged nostrils!”...
What are you whispering there, you old brat? - Khlopusha shouted. - I'll give you torn nostrils; wait, your time will come; God willing, you will smell the tongs... In the meantime, make sure I don’t rip out your beard!
Gentlemen enaraly! - Pugachev declared importantly. - You've had enough of quarreling. It wouldn’t matter if all the Orenburg dogs kicked their legs under the same crossbar; it would be a problem if our male dogs squabbled among themselves. Well, make peace.
Khlopusha and Beloborodov did not say a word and looked at each other gloomily. I saw the need to change the conversation, which could end in a very unfavorable way for me, and, turning to Pugachev, I told him with a cheerful look: “Ah! I forgot to thank you for the horse and for the sheepskin coat. Without you, I wouldn’t have gotten to the city and would have frozen on the road.”
My trick was a success. Pugachev was amused. “Debt pays off,” he said, blinking and squinting. - Tell me now, why do you care about that girl whom Shvabrin offends? Isn’t there a sweet spot for a young man’s heart? A?"
“She is my bride,” I answered Pugachev, seeing a favorable change in the weather and not finding the need to hide the truth.
Your bride! - Pugachev shouted. - Why didn’t you say it before? Yes, we will marry you and feast at your wedding! - Then, turning to Beloborodov: - Listen, Field Marshal! His honor and I are old friends; Let's sit down and have dinner; The morning is wiser than the evening. Tomorrow we'll see what we do with it.
I was glad to refuse the offered honor, but there was nothing to do. Two young Cossack women, daughters of the owner of the hut, covered the table with a white tablecloth, brought bread, fish soup and several bottles of wine and beer, and for the second time I found myself sharing a meal with Pugachev and his terrible comrades.
The orgy, which I was an involuntary witness, continued until late at night. Finally, the hops began to overcome the interlocutors. Pugachev dozed off while sitting in his place; His comrades stood up and gave me a sign to leave him. I went out with them. By order of Khlopushi, the guard took me to the official hut, where I found Savelich and where they left me locked up with him. The guy was in such amazement at the sight of everything that was happening that he didn’t ask me any questions. He lay down in the darkness and sighed and groaned for a long time; Finally he began to snore, and I indulged in thoughts that did not allow me to doze off for a single minute the whole night.
In the morning they came to call me on behalf of Pugachev. I went to him. At its gate stood a wagon drawn by three Tatar horses. People crowded on the street. In the entryway I met Pugachev: he was dressed like a traveler, wearing a fur coat and a Kyrgyz hat. Yesterday's interlocutors surrounded him, assuming an air of servility that strongly contradicted everything that I had witnessed the day before. Pugachev greeted me cheerfully and ordered me to sit in the wagon with him.
We sat down. “To the Belogorsk fortress!” - Pugachev said to the broad-shouldered Tatar, standing at the helm of the troika. My heart began to beat violently. The horses started moving, the bell rang, the wagon flew...
“Stop! stop!” - a voice rang out, too familiar to me, - and I saw Savelich running towards us. Pugachev ordered to stop. “Father, Pyotr Andreich! - the guy shouted. “Don’t leave me in my old age in the midst of these scams...” - “Ah, old bastard! - Pugachev told him. - God allowed us to meet again. Well, sit down on the irradiator.”
Thank you, sir, thank you, dear father! - Savelich said as he sat down. - May God grant you a hundred years of health for looking after me as an old man and calming me down. I will pray to God for you forever, but I won’t even mention the hare’s sheepskin coat.
This hare sheepskin coat could finally seriously anger Pugachev. Fortunately, the impostor either did not hear or ignored the inappropriate hint. The horses galloped; people on the street stopped and bowed from the waist. Pugachev nodded his head to both sides. A minute later we left the settlement and rushed along a smooth road.
You can easily imagine how I felt at that moment. In a few hours I was supposed to see the one whom I considered already lost to me. I imagined the moment of our union... I also thought about the man in whose hands my fate was and who, by a strange coincidence of circumstances, was mysteriously connected with me. I remembered the reckless cruelty, the bloodthirsty habits of the one who volunteered to be the deliverer of my dear! Pugachev did not know that she was the daughter of Captain Mironov; the embittered Shvabrin could reveal everything to him; Pugachev could have discovered the truth in another way... Then what will happen to Marya Ivanovna? The cold ran through my body and my hair stood on end...
Suddenly Pugachev interrupted my thoughts, turning to me with a question:
What, your honor, did you deign to think about?
“How can I not think about it,” I answered him. - I am an officer and a nobleman; Yesterday I fought against you, and today I’m riding with you in the same tent, and the happiness of my whole life depends on you.
Well? - asked Pugachev. -Are you scared?
I answered that, having already been pardoned by him once, I hoped not only for his mercy, but even for his help.
And you're right, by God you're right! - said the impostor. - You saw that my guys looked at you askance; and the old man still insisted today that you were a spy and that you should be tortured and hanged; but I didn’t agree,” he added, lowering his voice so that Savelich and the Tatar could not hear him, “remembering your glass of wine and the hare’s sheepskin coat.” You see that I am not such a bloodsucker as your brothers say about me.
I remembered the capture of the Belogorsk fortress; but did not consider it necessary to challenge him and did not answer a word.
What do they say about me in Orenburg? - asked Pugachev, after a short silence.
Yes, they say that you are difficult to deal with; there is nothing to say: you made yourself known.
The impostor's face showed satisfied pride.
Yes! - he said with a cheerful look. - I fight anywhere. Do you know in Orenburg about the battle of Yuzeeva? Forty enarals were killed, four armies were captured. What do you think: could the Prussian king compete with me?
The robber's boastfulness seemed funny to me.
What do you think? - I said to him, - could you cope with Fryderyk?
With Fedor Fedorovich? Why not? I’m the one who manages your money; and they beat him. Until now my weapon was happy. Give it time, or else it will be before I go to Moscow.
Do you think about going to Moscow?
The impostor thought a little and said in a low voice:
God knows. My street is cramped; I have little will. My guys are smart. They are thieves. I have to keep my ears open; at the first failure, they will ransom their neck with my head.
That's it! - I said to Pugachev. “Isn’t it better for you to get away from them yourself, in advance, and resort to the mercy of the empress?”
Pugachev smiled bitterly.
No,” he answered, “it’s too late for me to repent.” There will be no mercy for me. I will continue as I started. Who knows? Maybe it will work! Grishka Otrepyev reigned over Moscow after all.
Do you know how he ended up? They threw him out of the window, stabbed him, burned him, loaded a cannon with his ashes and fired him out!
Listen,” said Pugachev with some wild inspiration. - I’ll tell you a fairy tale that an old Kalmyk woman told me as a child. One day an eagle asked a raven: tell me, raven bird, why have you lived in this world for three hundred years, and I am only thirty-three years old? “Because, father,” the raven answered him, “you drink living blood, and I feed on carrion.” The eagle thought: let's try and eat the same thing. Fine. The eagle and the raven flew away. They saw a dead horse; came down and sat down. The raven began to peck and praise. The eagle pecked once, pecked again, waved its wing and said to the raven: no, brother raven; Instead of eating carrion for three hundred years, it’s better to drink living blood once, and then God willing! - What is a Kalmyk fairy tale?
Intricate, - I answered him. - But to live by murder and robbery means, for me, to peck at carrion.
Pugachev looked at me in surprise and did not answer. We both fell silent, each immersed in our own thoughts. The Tatar began to sing a sad song; Savelich, dozing, rocked on the beam. The carriage was flying along a smooth winter road... Suddenly I saw a village on the steep bank of the Yaik, with a palisade and a bell tower - and a quarter of an hour later we drove into the Belogorsk fortress.
I entered the hut, or palace, as the men called it. It was lit by two tallow candles, and the walls were covered with gold paper; however, the benches, the table, the washstand on a string, the towel on a nail, the grabber in the corner and the wide pole covered with pots - everything was like in an ordinary hut. Pugachev sat under the icons, in a red caftan, with a high hat and an important figure akimbo. Several of his chief comrades stood near him, with an air of feigned servility. It was clear that the news of the arrival of an officer from Orenburg aroused great curiosity among the rebels and that they were preparing to greet me with triumph. Pugachev recognized me at first sight. His false importance suddenly disappeared. “Ah, your honor! - he told me with liveliness. - How are you? Why did God bring you?” I replied that I was going about my business and that his people stopped me. “What business?” - he asked me. I didn't know what to answer. Pugachev, believing that I did not want to explain myself in front of witnesses, turned to his comrades and ordered them to leave. Everyone obeyed, except two, who did not move. “Speak boldly in front of them,” Pugachev told me: “I’m not hiding anything from them.” I glanced sideways at the impostor's confidants. One of them, a frail and hunched old man with a gray beard, had nothing remarkable about himself except a blue ribbon worn over his shoulder over his gray overcoat. But I will never forget his comrade. He was tall, portly and broad-shouldered, and seemed to me to be about forty-five years old. A thick red beard, gray sparkling eyes, a nose without nostrils and reddish spots on his forehead and cheeks gave his pockmarked wide face an inexplicable expression. He was wearing a red shirt, a Kyrgyz robe and Cossack trousers. The first (as I learned later) was the fugitive corporal Beloborodov; the second is Afanasy Sokolov (nicknamed Khlopusha), an exiled criminal who escaped from Siberian mines three times. Despite the feelings that exclusively worried me, the company in which I so accidentally found myself greatly entertained my imagination. But Pugachev brought me to my senses with his question: “Tell me: what business did you leave Orenburg for?”
A strange thought occurred to me: it seemed to me that Providence, which had led me to Pugachev for the second time, was giving me an opportunity to put my intention into action. I decided to use it and, without having time to think about what I was deciding on, I answered Pugachev’s question:
I was going to the Belogorsk fortress to deliver an orphan who was being abused there.
Pugachev’s eyes sparkled. “Which of my people dares to offend an orphan? - he shouted. “Even if he’s seven spans in the forehead, he won’t escape my judgment.” Speak: who is to blame?
Shvabrin is guilty,” I answered. “He holds in captivity that girl you saw, sick, with the priest, and wants to marry her by force.”
“I’ll teach Shvabrin a lesson,” Pugachev said menacingly. “He’ll find out what it’s like for me to be self-willed and offend people.” I'll hang him.
Order the word to be spoken,” said Khlopusha in a hoarse voice. “You were in a hurry to appoint Shvabrin as commandant of the fortress, and now you are in a hurry to hang him.” You have already insulted the Cossacks by placing a nobleman as their leader; Don’t frighten the nobles by executing them at the first slander.
There’s no point in pitying or favoring them!” said the old man in a blue ribbon. “It’s no problem telling Shvabrin; and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to question the gentleman officer in order: why did you deign to come? If he doesn’t recognize you as sovereign, then there’s no point in looking for government from you, but if he admits that until today he was sitting in Orenburg with your adversaries? Would you like to order him to be taken to the office and light a light there: it seems to me that his honor was sent to us from the Orenburg commanders.
I found the old villain's logic quite convincing. A chill ran through my entire body at the thought of whose arms I was in. Pugachev noticed my embarrassment. “Asya, your honor?” he said to me, winking. “My field marshal, it seems, speaks the truth.” How do you think?"
Pugachev's mockery restored my cheerfulness. I calmly replied that I was in his power and that he was free to do with me as he pleased.
“Okay,” said Pugachev. “Now tell me what the state of your city is.”
“Thank God,” I answered, “everything is fine.”
“Safe?” Pugachev repeated. “And the people are dying of hunger!”
The impostor spoke the truth; but I, out of duty of oath, began to assure that all these were empty rumors and that Orenburg had plenty of all kinds of supplies.
“You see,” the old man picked up, “that he is deceiving you to your face.” All the fugitives agree that there is famine and pestilence in Orenburg, that they eat carrion there, and that only for honor; and His Grace assures us that there is plenty of everything. If you want to hang Shvabrin, then hang this fellow on the same gallows, so that no one will be jealous.
Approaching the ravine, I heard noise, screams and the voice of my Savelich from a distance. I drove faster, and soon found myself again between the guard men who stopped me a few minutes ago. Savelich was between them. They pulled the old man off his nag and were preparing to tie him up. My arrival made them happy. They rushed at me screaming and instantly pulled me off the horse. One of them, apparently the main one, announced to us that he would now lead us to the sovereign. “And our father,” he added, “is free to order: whether to hang you now, or wait for the light of God.” I didn't resist; Savelich followed my example, and the guards led us away in triumph.
We crossed the ravine and entered the settlement. Lights were burning in all the huts. Noise and screams were heard everywhere. On the street I met a lot of people; but no one noticed us in the darkness or recognized me as an Orenburg officer. We were led straight to a hut that stood at the corner of the intersection. At the gate there were several wine barrels and two cannons. “Here is the palace,” said one of the men, “now we’ll report on you.” He entered the hut. I looked at Savelich; the old man crossed himself, reading a prayer to himself. I waited a long time; Finally the man returned and said to me: “Go: our father ordered to let the officer in.”
I entered the hut, or palace, as the men called it. It was lit by two tallow candles, and the walls were covered with gold paper; however, the benches, the table, the washstand on a string, the towel on a nail, the grabber in the corner and the wide pole covered with pots - everything was like in an ordinary hut. Pugachev sat under the icons, in a red caftan, a high hat, and his arms akimbo. Several of his chief comrades stood near him, with an air of feigned servility. It was clear that the news of the arrival of an officer from Orenburg aroused great curiosity among the rebels, and that they were preparing to greet me with triumph. Pugachev recognized me at first sight. His false importance suddenly disappeared. “Ah, your honor!” he said to me with liveliness. “How are you? Why did God bring you here?” I replied that I was going about my business and that his people stopped me. "What business?" he asked me. I didn't know what to answer. Pugachev, believing that I did not want to explain myself in front of witnesses, turned to his comrades and ordered them to leave. Everyone obeyed, except two, who did not move. “Speak boldly in front of them,” Pugachev told me, “I’m not hiding anything from them.” I glanced sideways at the impostor's confidants. One of them, a frail and hunched old man with a gray beard, had nothing remarkable about himself except a blue ribbon worn over his shoulder over his gray overcoat. But I will never forget his comrade. He was tall, portly and broad-shouldered, and seemed to me to be about forty-five years old. A thick red beard, gray sparkling eyes, a nose without nostrils and reddish spots on his forehead and cheeks gave his pockmarked wide face an inexplicable expression. He was wearing a red shirt, a Kyrgyz robe and Cossack trousers. The first (as I learned later) was the fugitive corporal Beloborodov; the second Afanasy Sokolov (nicknamed Khlopusha), an exiled criminal who escaped from Siberian mines three times. Despite the feelings that exclusively worried me, the company in which I so accidentally found myself greatly entertained my imagination. But Pugachev brought me to my senses with his question: “Tell me: what business did you leave Orenburg for?”
A strange thought occurred to me: it seemed to me that Providence, which had led me to Pugachev for the second time, was giving me an opportunity to put my intention into action. I decided to use it and, without having time to think about what I was deciding on, I answered Pugachev’s question:
I was going to the Belogorsk fortress to deliver an orphan who was being abused there.
Pugachev’s eyes sparkled. “Which of my people dares to offend an orphan?” he shouted. “Even if he is seven spans in the forehead, he will not escape my judgment. Say: who is to blame?”
Shvabrin is guilty,” I answered. “He is holding in captivity that girl you saw, sick, at the priest’s house, and he wants to forcefully marry her.
“I’ll teach Shvabrin a lesson,” Pugachev said menacingly. “He will know what it’s like for me to be willful and offend people.” I'll hang him.
Order the word to be spoken,” said Khlopusha in a hoarse voice. “You were in a hurry to appoint Shvabrin as commandant of the fortress, and now you are in a hurry to hang him.” You have already insulted the Cossacks by placing a nobleman as their leader; Don’t frighten the nobles by executing them at the first slander.
There is no point in pitying or favoring them! - said the old man in the blue ribbon. - It’s no problem to say Shvabrin; and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to question the gentleman officer in order: why did you deign to come? If he doesn’t recognize you as sovereign, then there’s no point in looking for government from you, but if he admits that until today he was sitting in Orenburg with your adversaries? Would you like to order him to be taken to the office and light a light there: it seems to me that his honor was sent to us from the Orenburg commanders.
I found the old villain's logic quite convincing. A chill ran through my entire body at the thought of whose arms I was in. Pugachev noticed my embarrassment. “Asya, your honor?” he said to me, winking. “My field marshal seems to be speaking the point. What do you think?”
Pugachev's mockery restored my cheerfulness. I calmly answered that I was in his power and that he was free to do with me as he pleased.
“Okay,” said Pugachev. - Now tell me what state your city is in.
Thank God, I answered; - everything is fine.
Safely? - repeated Pugachev. - And the people are dying of hunger!
The impostor spoke the truth; but I, out of duty of oath, began to assure that all these were empty rumors, and that Orenburg had plenty of all kinds of reserves.
“You see,” the old man picked up, “that he is deceiving you to your face.” All the fugitives agree that there is famine and pestilence in Orenburg, that they eat carrion there, and that only for honor; and His Grace assures us that there is plenty of everything. If you want to hang Shvabrin, then hang this fellow on the same gallows, so that no one will be jealous.
The words of the damned old man seemed to shake Pugachev. Fortunately, Khlopusha began to contradict his comrade. “Enough, Naumych,” he told him. “You should strangle and cut everything. What kind of hero are you? Look at what the soul is holding on to. You yourself are looking into the grave, but you are destroying others. Isn’t there enough blood on your conscience?”
What kind of a saint are you? - Beloborodov objected. - Where did your pity come from?
Of course, answered Khlopusha, “I am a sinner, and this hand” (here he clenched his bony fist, and, rolling up his sleeves, opened his shaggy hand), and this hand is guilty of shed Christian blood. But I destroyed the enemy, not the guest; at a free crossroads and in a dark forest, not at home, sitting behind the stove; with a flail and a butt, and not with a woman’s slander.
The old man turned away and grumbled the words: “Ragged nostrils!”...
What are you whispering there, you old brat? - Khlopusha shouted. - I'll give you torn nostrils; wait, your time will come; God willing, you will smell the tongs... In the meantime, make sure I don’t rip out your beard!
Gentlemen enaraly! - Pugachev declared importantly. - You've had enough of quarreling. It wouldn’t matter if all the Orenburg dogs kicked their legs under the same crossbar; It will be a disaster if our male dogs squabble among themselves. Well, make peace.
Khlopusha and Beloborodov did not say a word and looked at each other gloomily. I saw the need to change the conversation, which could end in a very unfavorable way for me, and, turning to Pugachev, I told him with a cheerful look: “Oh! I forgot to thank you for the horse and for the sheepskin coat. Without you, I would not have gotten to the city and would freeze on the road."
My trick was a success. Pugachev was amused. “The debt is beautiful in payment,” he said, blinking and squinting. “Tell me now, what do you care about that girl whom Shvabrin offends? Isn’t that a sweetheart for the young man’s heart? Eh?”
“She is my bride,” I answered Pugachev, seeing a favorable change in the weather and not finding the need to hide the truth.
Your bride! - Pugachev shouted. - Why didn’t you say it before? Yes, we will marry you, and we will feast at your wedding! - Then turning to Beloborodov: - Listen, Field Marshal! His honor and I are old friends; Let's sit down and have dinner; The morning is wiser than the evening. Tomorrow we'll see what we do with it.
