But the garrison, afraid, had not stirred.
"What are you doing, my children?" shouted Ivan Kouzmitch. "If we must
die, let us die; it is our duty."
At this moment the rebels fell upon us and forced the entrance of the
citadel. The drum ceased, the garrison threw down its arms. I had been
thrown down, but I got up and passed helter-skelter with the crowd into
the fort. I saw the Commandant wounded in the head, and hard pressed by
a little band of robbers clamouring for the keys. I was running to help
him, when several strong Cossacks seized me, and bound me with their
"_kuchaks_,"[54] shouting--
"Wait a bit, you will see what will become of you traitors to the Tzar!"
We were dragged along the streets. The inhabitants came out of their
houses, offering bread and salt. The bells were rung. All at once shouts
announced that the Tzar was in the square waiting to receive the oaths
of the prisoners. All the crowd diverged in that direction, and our
keepers dragged us thither.
Pugatchef was seated in an armchair on the threshold of the Commandant's
house. He wore an elegant Cossack caftan, embroidered down the seams. A
high cap of marten sable, ornamented with gold tassels, came closely
down over his flashing eyes.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98