The Daughter of the Commandant

* * * * *

I took fright when I saw he was getting involved in a military

dissertation, and I made haste to interrupt him.

"The daughter of Captain Mironoff," I said, "has just written me a

letter asking for help. Chvabrine is obliging her to become his wife."

"Indeed! Oh! this Chvabrine is a great rascal. If he falls into my hands

I'll have him tried in twenty-four hours, and we will shoot him on the

glacis of the fort. But in the meantime we must have patience."

"Have patience!" I cried, beside myself. "Between this and then he will

ill-treat Marya."

"Oh!" replied the General. "Still that would not be such a terrible

misfortune for her. It would be better for her to be the wife of

Chvabrine, who can now protect her. And when we shall have shot him,

then, with heaven's help, the betrothed will come together again. Pretty

little widows do not long remain single; I mean to say a widow more

easily finds a husband."

"I'd rather die," I cried, furiously, "than leave her to Chvabrine."

"Ah! Bah!" said the old man, "I understand now. Probably you are in love

with Marya Ivanofna. Then it is another thing. Poor boy! But still it is

not possible for me to give you a battalion and fifty Cossacks. This

expedition is unreasonable, and I cannot take it upon my own

responsibility."

I bowed my head; despair overwhelmed me. All at once an idea flashed

across me, and what it was the reader will see in the next chapter, as

the old novelists used to say.