The tailor of the company, armed with his
big blunt scissors, cut off their queues. They shook their heads and
touched their lips to Pugatchef's hand; the latter told them they were
pardoned and enrolled amongst his troops.
All this lasted about three hours. At last Pugatchef rose from his
armchair and went down the steps, followed by his chiefs. There was
brought for him a white horse, richly caparisoned. Two Cossacks held his
arms and helped him into the saddle.
He announced to Father Garasim that he would dine at his house. At this
moment arose a woman's heartrending shrieks. Some robbers were dragging
to the steps Vassilissa Igorofna, with dishevelled hair and
half-dressed. One of them had already appropriated her cloak; the others
were carrying off the mattresses, boxes, linen, tea sets, and all manner
of things.
"Oh, my fathers!" cried the poor old woman. "Let me alone, I pray you;
my fathers, my fathers, bring me to Ivan Kouzmitch." All of a sudden
she perceived the gallows and recognized her husband. "Villains!" she
exclaimed, beside herself; "what have you done? Oh, my light, my Ivan
Kouzmitch! Bold soldier heart, neither Prussian bayonets nor Turkish
bullets ever harmed you; and you have died before a vile runaway felon.
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