The Daughter of the Commandant

At this moment a little boy came in, who brought me a note from Zourine.

I unfolded it and read as follows:-"DEAR PETR' ANDREJITCH, "Oblige me by sending by bearer the hundred roubles you lost to me

yesterday. I want money dreadfully.

"Your devoted "IVAN ZOURINE."

There was nothing for it. I assumed a look of indifference, and,

addressing myself to Saveliitch, I bid him hand over a hundred roubles

to the little boy.

"What--why?" he asked me in great surprise.

"I owe them to him," I answered as coldly as possible.

"You owe them to him!" retorted Saveliitch, whose surprise became

greater. "When had you the time to run up such a debt? It is

impossible. Do what you please, excellency, but I will not give this

money."

I then considered that, if in this decisive moment I did not oblige this

obstinate old man to obey me, it would be difficult for me in future to

free myself from his tutelage. Glancing at him haughtily, I said to

him-"I am your master; you are my servant. The money is mine; I lost it

because I chose to lose it. I advise you not to be headstrong, and to

obey your orders."

My words made such an impression on Saveliitch that he clasped his hands

and remained dumb and motionless.

"What are you standing there for like a stock?" I exclaimed, angrily.

Saveliitch began to weep.

"Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch," sobbed he, in a trembling voice; "do

not make me die of sorrow. Oh! my light, hearken to me who am old;

write to this robber that you were only joking, that we never had so

much money. A hundred roubles! Good heavens! Tell him your parents have

strictly forbidden you to play for anything but nuts."

"Will you hold your tongue?" said I, hastily, interrupting him. "Hand

over the money, or I will kick you out of the place."

Saveliitch looked at me with a deep expression of sorrow, and went to

fetch my money. I was sorry for the poor old man, but I wished to assert

myself, and prove that I was not a child. Zourine got his hundred

roubles.

Saveliitch was in haste to get me away from this unlucky inn; he came in

telling me the horses were harnessed. I left Simbirsk with an uneasy

conscience, and with some silent remorse, without taking leave of my

instructor, whom I little thought I should ever see again.