zed the Major as Ivan Zourine, who had
so thoroughly emptied my purse at Simbirsk. "Is it possible? is this you
Ivan Zourine?"

"Halloo! Peter; what luck? where are you from? will you take a chance?"

"Thanks; I would rather have some apartments assigned me."

"No need of apartments, stay with me."

"I can not; I am not alone."

"Bring your comrade with you."

"I am not with a comrade; I am with--a lady."

"A lady! where did you fish her out?" and he whistled in so rollicking a
manner, that the rest burst out laughing.

"Well," said Zourine, "then you must have a house in the town. Here,
boy! why do you not bring in Pougatcheff's friend?"

"What are you about," said I. "It is Captain Mironoff's daughter. I have
just obtained her liberty, and I am taking her to my father's, where I
shall leave her."

"In the name of Heaven, what are _you_ talking about? Are _you_
Pougatcheff's chum?"

"I will tell you everything later; first go and see this poor girl, whom
your soldiers have horribly frightened."

Zourine went out into the street to excuse himself to Marie, and explain
the mistake, and ordered the officer to place her and her maid in the
best house in the city. I stayed with him. After supper, as soon as we
were alone, I gave him the story of my adventures.

He shook his head. "That's all very well; but why will you marry? As an
officer and a comrade, I tell you marriage is folly! Now listen to
me. The road to Simbirsk has been swept clean by our soldiers; you can
therefore send the Captain's daughter to your parents tomorrow, and
remain yourself in my detachment. No need to return to Orenbourg; you
might fall again into the hands of the rebels."

I resolved to follow, in part, Zourine's advice. Saveliitch came to
prepare my room for the night. I told him to be ready to set out in the
morning with Marie.

"Who will attend you, my lord?"

"My old friend," said I, trying to soften him, "I do not need a servant
here, and in serving Marie, you serve me, for I shall marry her as soon
as the war is over."

"Marry!" repeated he, with his hands crossed, and a look of
inexpressible blankness, "the child wants to marry! What will your
parents say?"

"They will, no doubt, consent as soon as they know Marie. You will
intercede for us, will you not?"

I had touched the old man's heart. "O Peter!" said he, "you are too
young to marry, but the young lady is an angel, and it would be a sin to
let the chance sli