The Daughter of the Commandant

"What has happened?" she said to me. "How pale you are!"

"All is at an end," replied I, handing her my father's letter.

In her turn she grew pale. After reading the letter she gave it me back,

and said, in a voice broken by emotion-"It was not my fate. Your parents do not want me in your family; God's

will be done! God knows better than we do what is fit for us. There is

nothing to be done, Petr' Andrejitch; may you at least be happy."

"It shall not be thus!" I exclaimed, seizing her hand. "You love me; I

am ready for anything. Let us go and throw ourselves at your parents'

feet. They are honest people, neither proud nor hard; they--they will

give us their blessing--we will marry, and then with time, I am sure, we

shall succeed in mollifying my father. My mother will intercede for us,

and he will forgive me."

"No, Petr' Andrejitch," replied Marya, "I will not marry you without

the blessing of your parents. Without their blessing you would not be

happy. Let us submit to the will of God. Should you meet with another

betrothed, should you love her, God be with you,[47] Petr' Andrejitch,

I--I will pray for you both."

She began to cry, and went away. I meant to follow her to her room; but

I felt unable to control myself, and I went home. I was seated, deep in

melancholy reflections, when Saveliitch suddenly came and interrupted

me.

"Here, sir," said he, handing me a sheet of paper all covered with

writing, "see if I be a spy on my master, and if I try to sow discord

betwixt father and son."

I took the paper from his hand; it was Saveliitch's reply to the letter

he had received. Here it is word for word-"My lord, Andrej Petrovitch, our gracious father, I have received your

gracious letter, in which you deign to be angered with me, your serf,

bidding me be ashamed of not obeying my master's orders. And I, who am

not an old dog, but your faithful servant, I do obey my master's orders,

and I have ever served you zealously, even unto white hairs. I did not

write to you about Petr' Andrejitch's wound in order not to frighten you

without cause, and now we hear that our mistress, our mother, Avdotia

Vassilieva is ill of fright, and I shall go and pray heaven for her

health. Petr' Andrejitch has been wounded in the chest, beneath the

right shoulder, under one rib, to the depth of a verchok[48] and a

half, and he has been taken care of in the Commandant's house, whither

we brought him from the river bank, and it was the barber here, Stepan

Paramonoff, who treated him; and now Petr' Andrejitch, thank God, is

going on well, and there is nothing but good to tell of him. His

superiors, according to hearsay, are well pleased with him, and

Vassilissa Igorofna treats him as her own son; and because such an

affair should have happened to him you must not reproach him; the horse

may have four legs and yet stumble. And you deign to write that you will

send me to keep the pigs. My lord's will be done. And now I salute you

down to the ground.