her hair in disorder;
before her on the floor stood a pitcher of water covered by a piece
of bread. Upon seeing me, she started, and uttered a piercing shriek.
Pougatcheff glanced at Alexis, smiled bitterly, and said: "Your hospital
is in nice order?"

"Tell me, my little dove, why does your husband punish you in this way?"

"My husband! he is not my husband. I am resolved to die rather than
marry him; and I shall die, if not soon released."

Pougatcheff gave a furious look at Alexis, and said: "Do you dare to
deceive me, knave?"

Alexis fell on his knees. Contempt stifled all my feelings of hatred
and vengeance. I saw with disgust, a gentleman kneeling at the feet of a
Cossack deserter.

"I pardon you, this time," said the brigand, "but remember, your next
fault will recall this one." He turned to Marie, and said, gently: "Come
out, my pretty girl, you are free. I am the Czar!"

Marie looked at him, hid her face in her hands and fell on the floor
unconscious. She had no doubt divined that he had caused her parents'
death. I rushed to aid her, when my old acquaintance, Polacca, boldly
entered, and hastened to revive her mistress. Pougatcheff, Alexis and I
went down to the reception room.

"Now, your lordship, we have released the pretty girl, what say you?
Shall we not send for Father Garasim, and have him perform the marriage
ceremony for his niece? If you like, I will be your father by proxy,
Alexis your groomsman; then we'll shut the gates and make merry!"

As I anticipated, Alexis, hearing this speech, lost his self-control.

"Czar," said he, in a fury, "I am guilty; I have lied to you, but
Grineff also deceives you. This young girl is not Father Garasim's
niece. She is Ivan Mironoff's daughter."

Pougatcheff glared at me. "What does that mean?" said he to me.

"Alexis says truly," I replied, firmly.

"You did not tell me that," said the usurper, whose face darkened.

"Judge of it yourself. Could I declare before your people that Marie was
Captain Mironoff's daughter? They would have torn her to pieces. No one
could have saved her."

"You are right," said Pougatcheff, "my drunkards would not have spared
the child. Accoulina did well to deceive them."

"Listen," I said, seeing his good humor, "I do not know your real name,
and I do not want to know it. But before God, I am ready to pay you with
my life, for what you have done for me. Only, ask me nothing contrary to
honor, and my conscience as a Chr