"Speak boldly before these," said Pugatchef; "hide nothing from them."
I threw a side glance upon these two confederates of the usurper. One of
them, a little old man, meagre and bent, with a scanty grey beard, had
nothing remarkable about him, except a broad blue ribbon worn cross-ways
over his caftan of thick grey cloth. But I shall never forget his
companion. He was tall, powerfully built, and appeared to be about
forty-five. A thick red beard, piercing grey eyes, a nose without
nostrils, and marks of the hot iron on his forehead and on his cheeks,
gave to his broad face, seamed with small-pox, a strange and indefinable
expression. He wore a red shirt, a Kirghiz dress, and wide Cossack
trousers. The first, as I afterwards learnt, was the deserter, Corporal
Beloborodoff. The other, Athanasius Sokoloff, nicknamed Khlopusha,[63]
was a criminal condemned to the mines of Siberia, whence he had escaped
three times. In spite of the feelings which then agitated me, this
company wherein I was thus unexpectedly thrown greatly impressed me. But
Pugatchef soon recalled me to myself by his question.
"Speak! On what business did you leave Orenburg?"
A strange idea occurred to me. It seemed to me that Providence, in
bringing me a second time before Pugatchef, opened to me a way of
executing my project.
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