ered himself.

"You are one of us," said he; "it should have been long ago."

I turned away my head without answering him. My heart failed me when we
entered the little room I knew so well, where could still be seen on the
wall the commission of the late deceased Commandant, as a sad memorial.

Pugatchef sat down on the same sofa where ofttimes Ivan Kouzmitch had
dozed to the sound of his wife's scolding.

Chvabrine himself brought brandy to his chief. Pugatchef drank a glass
of it, and said to him, pointing to me--

"Offer one to his lordship."

Chvabrine approached me with his tray. I turned away my head for the
second time. He seemed beside himself. With his usual sharpness he had
doubtless guessed that Pugatchef was not pleased with me. He regarded
him with alarm and me with mistrust. Pugatchef asked him some questions
on the condition of the fort, on what was said concerning the Tzarina's
troops, and other similar subjects. Then suddenly and in an unexpected
manner--

"Tell me, brother," asked he, "who is this young girl you are keeping
under watch and ward? Show me her."

Chvabrine became pale as death.

"Tzar," he said, in a trembling voice, "Tzar, she is not under
restraint; she is in bed in her room."

"Take me to her," said the usurper, rising.

It was impossible to hesitate. Chvabrine led Pugatchef to Marya
Ivanofna's room. I followed them. Chvabrine stopped on the stairs.

"Tzar," said he, "you can constrain me to do as you list, but do not
permit a stranger to enter my wife's room."

"You are married!" cried I, ready to tear him in pieces.

"Hush!" interrupted Pugatchef, "it is my concern. And you," continued
he, turning towards Chvabrine, "do not swagger; whether she be your wife
or no, I take whomsoever I please to see her. Your lordship, follow me."

At the door of the room Chvabrine again stopped, and said, in a broken
voice--

"Tzar, I warn you she is feverish, and for three days she has been
delirious."

"Open!" said Pugatchef.

Chvabrine began to fumble in his pockets, and ended by declaring he had
forgotten the key.

Pugatchef gave a push to the door with his foot, the lock gave way, the
door opened, and we went in. I cast a rapid glance round the room and
nearly fainted. Upon the floor, in a coarse peasant's dress, sat Marya,
pale and thin, with her hair unbound. Before her stood a jug of water
and a bit of bread. At the sight of me she trembled and gave a piercing
cry. I c