All
night long Vassilissa Igorofna lay awake trying to think what her
husband could have in his head that she was not permitted to know.
The morrow, on her return from mass, she saw Iwan Ignatiitch busy
clearing the cannon of the rags, small stones, bits of wood,
knuckle-bones, and all kinds of rubbish that the little boys had crammed
it with.
"What can these warlike preparations mean?" thought the Commandant's
wife. "Can it be that they are afraid of an attack by the Kirghiz; but
then is it likely that Ivan Kouzmitch would hide from me such a trifle?"
She called Iwan Ignatiitch, determined to have out of him the secret
which was provoking her feminine curiosity.
Vassilissa Igorofna began by making to him some remarks on household
matters, like a judge who begins a cross-examination by questions
irrelevant to the subject in hand, in order to reassure and lull the
watchfulness of the accused. Then, after a few minutes' silence, she
gave a deep sigh, and said, shaking her head--
"Oh! good Lord! Just think what news! What will come of all this?"
"Eh! my little mother," replied Iwan Ignatiitch; "the Lord is merciful.
We have soldiers enough, and much, powder; I have cleared the cannon.
Perhaps we may be able to defeat this Pugatchef.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82