Far be from me any intention of describing the siege of Orenburg, which
belongs to history, and not to a family memoir. In a few words,
therefore, I shall say that in consequence of the bad arrangements of
the authorities, the siege was disastrous for the inhabitants, who were
forced to suffer hunger and privation of all kinds. Life at Orenburg was
becoming unendurable; each one awaited in anxiety the fate that should
befall him. All complained of the famine, which was, indeed, awful.
The inhabitants ended by becoming accustomed to the shells falling on
their houses. Even the assaults of Pugatchef no longer excited great
disturbance. I was dying of ennui. The time passed but slowly. I could
not get any letter from Belogorsk, for all the roads were blocked, and
the separation from Marya became unbearable. My only occupation
consisted in my military rounds.
Thanks to Pugatchef, I had a pretty good horse, with which I shared my
scanty rations. Every day I passed beyond the ramparts, and I went and
fired away against the scouts of Pugatchef. In these sort of skirmishes
the rebels generally got the better of us, as they had plenty of food
and were capitally mounted.
Our thin, starved cavalry was unable to stand against them.
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