CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A Russian Village--Danger of being discovered--Providential Warning-- Flight--Approach to his Native Village--Horror on discovering his Home deserted--Encounter with old Soukhoroukof--Taken to his House--Account of his Parents--Aneouta carried away--His Agony--Encouraged to rouse himself--Plans for rescuing his Parents and Aneouta--Sets off again-- Encounter with Zingari--Old Friends--A bold Exploit--They offer to a.s.sist him--Plan arranged.

"I have given a far longer account of myself and my travels than I intended, gentlemen, but I wished to interest you," continued the stranger. "I trust that I have done so already. What I have further to tell you will, I hope, excite your sympathy and commiseration, and induce you to accede to the request I have to make. I awoke just before sunset, and descending from my tree hastened towards the village, now bathed in the calm glow of the evening. I knew the spot well. I had often been there. I recognised the little church with its gilt dome and blue and pink walls, the pride of all the inhabitants--the whitewashed houses of the richer villagers, and the rough log-huts, thatched with straw, of the poorer serfs. A sparkling stream ran by it, and green fields and orchards surrounded the place. It was altogether a flourishing little village. The stream ran from out of the side of the very hill from which I was descending. I stopped by its brink, and having enjoyed a draught of the clear, pure, cold water, I took off my upper garments, and washed away all signs of travel from my countenance.

Much refreshed, I proceeded. I had hopes of finding some one who could give me information about my parents. I walked on with as unconcerned an air as possible. First I went to a baker's shop, where I bought bread, but he scarcely knew the name of my village. I procured also some cheese, and salt, and dried fish. With a beating heart I made inquiries of those of whom I bought these articles, but not a particle of information could I obtain. At last I thought that people began to look at me suspiciously, and that it would be more prudent to take my departure. Having come to this resolution, I went straight on, neither looking to the right hand nor to the left, and endeavouring to appear as unconcerned as possible. I had gone a little way when a person pa.s.sed me as if running to reach some object before me. He did not look at me, but I heard him say, 'Hasten on, brother. Tarry not to-night--you are suspected, and may ere long be pursued.'

"'Thanks, thanks; may our brother be rewarded by Heaven,' I replied, without looking at him or altering my pace. To this day I know not the countenance of the man who gave me this timely warning. As soon as he had gone on some way, I began to walk quicker than before; and darkness having now concealed me from any loungers near the village, I hastened on as fast as my feet could carry me. Young Vacia's horse would have been truly welcome, still I dared not rest. Never had I travelled on so rapidly. I had, indeed, two powerful motives to hurry my steps--fear of capture, and a longing desire to see my parents and my betrothed. I escaped the threatened danger. Suffice it to say that, after another night pa.s.sed on foot, I stood within half a verst of my father's door, yet I dared not venture into the village by daylight. I had hoped to reach it before dawn, but my weary feet refused to carry me along faster. I could gain no information of those I loved. All my friends whom I could trust had been removed. Many new inhabitants had been sent to the place, and I was as a stranger on the spot where my childhood and youth had been pa.s.sed. I lay concealed all day in a sheltered nook on the hill-side, which commanded a wide view in every direction, and would enable me to retreat should any one approach. How can I paint the anxiety of those hours, as I looked down on my native village, and recognised my father's cottage, and every spot I knew so well? I tried to discover any inhabitants moving about the door, but none came out whom I could see all day. Evening drew on; the cows came lowing home to be milked, the horses were driven forth to their pastures, and the field labourers loitered in weary from their work. Many a hearth in the village sent up its tiny wreath of smoke into the pure blue sky, but I could see none ascending from my father's cottage. Forebodings of evil tidings grew upon me. It was impossible longer to curb my anxiety. I hastened down the hill, regardless of danger. No one observed me as I hurried on. The cottage stood in a small garden, railed off from a field. I ran across the field, leaped over the railing, and looked in at a window at the back of the dwelling. All was silent; no one was there. Perhaps they may be sitting in the porch in front of the house, I thought. My sudden appearance will alarm them, though; but it cannot be helped. I got over the paling again, and with beating, anxious heart went round to the front. The porch was empty; the door was off its hinges. My heart sank within me. A villager was pa.s.sing--an old man--I remembered his face well. He used to be kind to me as a boy, but he liked not our new tenets.

"'What has become of Loutich Saveleff and his wife and their adopted daughter, my father?' I asked, with a trembling voice.

"'Do you belong to this place, as your voice informs me, and ask what has become of them?' exclaimed old Soukhoroukof. 'I always told my friend Saveleff that the same thing would happen to him which has happened to his son, if he would persist in adopting the newfangled doctrines which have been so rife of late years. What has become of his son I know not. It is supposed generally that he is dead. He was a good youth, but fanciful and unsteady. Not content with the old-established, well-approved religion of this country, but he must needs run after these new inventions, and get himself into trouble.

Well, I was telling you about friend Saveleff. He had long been suspected of harbouring those doctrines, when lately it was discovered that he had given shelter to three or four convicted heretics escaping from justice. None of our old villagers would have informed against him, but some of the newcomers brought the matter before the _Starosta_, who was obliged to look into it. He carried the matter, as in duty bound, to the steward, who, unfortunately for old Saveleff, owed him a spite, and was but too glad to indulge his ill-feeling. The steward, Morgatch (I will not say what I think of him), brought the affair up to our Barin, the Count. Now the Count is a staunch religionist, and wonderful orthodox; though between you and me, if his heart was looked into, he cares as little for priests and the good of the Church as he does for the Grand Sultan of the Turks. However, whatever that--hum!-- Morgatch advises him to do he does. Morgatch brought forward plenty of witnesses to prove that the heretics had been seen in Saveleff's house, and that he and his wife and daughter had served them with food; and what is more, read out of the Bible, and prayed with them. Such atrocious crimes, of course, could not go unpunished; Morgatch, to make sure of the condemnation of his victims, brought forward evidence to prove that, not content with holding those pernicious doctrines themselves, they had endeavoured to instil them into others. This, too, was clearly proved. Saveleff had not a word to say in his defence, nor had his wife, but rather they boldly confessed and gloried in their crime. Had they been serfs, their owners might have claimed them; but they were free, and the old couple, without the power of appeal, were condemned to be transported to Siberia. No mercy was shown them on account of their grey hairs and their excellent character. They were sent off with felons, murderers, thieves, and traitors, to Moscow. One consolation is, that ere this they have probably sunk down, overcome with fatigue and ill usage, and been released from their sufferings by death.'

"I groaned as I heard these words; I had no questions to ask concerning my parents--the worst was revealed to me. 'And Aneouta, their daughter, what became of her?' I gasped out. 'Ah, poor girl, her fate was a hard one. She would have been transported also, but that--hum!--Morgatch proved that she was a serf, the property of a brother of our Barin's, the Count; that her father and mother were serfs, and that she had never been manumitted, as old Saveleff, who had adopted her, supposed.

Instead, therefore, of being sent to Siberia, she was packed off without ceremony to her native village, to work in the fields, I suppose, or-- But what is the matter, young man? You are ill, surely,' continued the good-natured Soukhoroukof, extending a hand to me, as he saw me at these words about to sink on the ground.

"'Oh, nothing, nothing,' I answered, trying to conceal my agitation, but in vain.

"'Young men do not look like that for nothing,' he replied. 'Come along--come into my house. You require food; perhaps a gla.s.s of kva.s.s will do you good. Come along,' and seizing my arm he led me, scarcely conscious of where I was going, to his own cottage.

"Had I had time for consideration I would not have allowed the good man to have run the risk of harbouring me. He made me sit down at his table, and gave me food, and the kva.s.s he promised. I ate and drank mechanically.

"'When did all this happen?' I asked, with a trembling voice.

"'About a fortnight ago only,' he answered, looking very hard at me.

'You seem very interested in the people; did you know them?'

"'I did,' I answered, doubly agitated; 'but oh, father, do not ask me questions; it can do no good.'

"'I must ask you one. Are you young Steffanos Saveleff, my old friend's son?'

"'I am,' I answered, bowing my head. 'And oh, father, I would not have entered your house had you given me time to think of the danger I might place you in; and you, I am sure, will not betray me.'

"'Speak not of it, my son. You have eaten of my loaf and my salt, and drunk of my cup, and you are safe. No one saw you enter, and no one need see you depart. Rest a little while, and then go on your way. I must not venture to harbour you longer than a few hours. Before daylight you should be far from this.'

"'Thanks, thanks, father!' I exclaimed. 'And now you know who I am, will you advise me how to proceed? Have I a chance of rescuing my parents, should they be still alive? You know that I am betrothed to Aneouta. Can I save her from the fate to which she is doomed?'

"Soukhoroukof leaned back in his chair and thought for some time. 'I have an idea,' he exclaimed at length. 'The Emperor, our great Czar, is about to be crowned shortly. On such an occasion he will surely grant the requests of his loving subjects. Get a pet.i.tion drawn up: go to Moscow: present it. Tell the Czar your whole story. He will be interested. If he grants your pet.i.tion, as he may, ask him boldly to increase the favour by enabling you to marry Aneouta. Say no more than that you are betrothed to a beautiful girl who loves you, and that difficulties which the Czar alone can overcome lie in the way of your nuptials.'

"'Oh, my kind father, the advice you give is excellent,' I answered; 'but thousands will be offering similar pet.i.tions, and what chance shall I have?'

"'You will have as good a chance as others,' he replied. 'Try and be one of the first. But I doubt if many will venture to present pet.i.tions. The difficulty of reaching the city is great, and few, even if they wish it, will be allowed to go, while those who dwell there are not likely to have any pet.i.tions to present. Try your chance, at all events.'

"'I will, I will,' I exclaimed, grasping eagerly at the proposal, as a sinking man does at a straw, though I had little hope of its success.

'But how shall I reach Moscow?' I asked. 'It is a long, long way, I fear, from this.'

"'Go to the banks of the Volga; you will there find steamers going up to Nishni; get on board one of them, and your way will then be easy.'

"I warmly thanked the kind Soukhoroukof for his advice, and rose to take my departure. I was unwilling to jeopardise him by remaining a moment longer under his roof than was necessary. 'One thing more I would wish to speak about before I go,' said I, taking his hand. 'Oh, my father, if you would but study that book on which we place our faith, how happy, how wise it would make you!'

"'Well, well, my son, speak not of it. Perhaps I do: I think not as I used to do. The times are evil. It is necessary to be cautious. I will say no more on that point. But I have another matter to speak to you about before you go. You will want money to prosecute your plans.

I am a widower; I have no children left to me alive. The bones of my sons whiten many a battle-field. My daughters died giving birth to those who will be dragged off to the same fate;--slaves, slaves all. I have no one to provide for; I am rich--rich in gold, that is to say, poor in everything else. I can well spare what I give. Take this purse; it contains two hundred roubles. It will help you on your way.

Heaven prosper you!'

"My heart came into my mouth as the old man uttered these words. I could not reply to him; no words could have expressed my feelings; I took his hand, I bathed it with tears. I fell on his neck and wept. He saw how grateful I was; I would not have had him for a moment think me otherwise. 'And a less sum than this would have purchased my Aneouta's freedom,' I exclaimed; for I could not help thinking of my betrothed, though I did not in any possible way desire to withdraw it from the still more important object of saving my parents from worse than slavery--a banishment to Siberia, or rather, a cruel death on the road.

"'I think not,' answered my host to my last observation. 'The brother of our Barin, the Count, who owns Aneouta, is not likely to give her her freedom for any sum a poor man can offer; through the Emperor, alone can you hope to succeed with him. He will not refuse to comply with any request made to him by the Czar; depend on that. If you fail with the Emperor then come back to me, and we will try what money will do with the Barin. I will offer to pay the money for the poor girl's freedom, to adopt her. We must let her know, in the meantime, that she has still friends in the world, and that she must keep up her spirits. She must also endeavour to make herself of little value in the sight of the Barin, her owner. She must feign sickness or foolishness, and disfigure her countenance, or refuse to work; a woman's wit will advise her best, though, what to do.'

"'Oh, my father, my father, you overwhelm me!' I exclaimed. 'I will go and see her; I will carry your advice to her. It cannot be far out of the way; I will travel day and night not to cause any delay.'

"'You may pa.s.s by the estate on your way,' answered my old friend, 'but the danger is very great. Any one seeking to speak to her is certain to be watched, and if you are captured, your punishment will be of the severest kind. They will knout you till you are nearly dead, and you will then be sent off to work for the rest of your miserable life in the mines of Siberia.' 'I know all that, but I will run every risk for Aneouta's sake,' I answered; and so it was settled. In spite of the almost desperate state of my prospects, I felt my spirits rise with the hope of overcoming the difficulties which lay before me. Soukhoroukof amply stocked my wallet with provisions, and before the end of another hour I had left my native village three versts behind my back. Five days' hard walking would, I calculated, bring me to where I expected to find Aneouta. My strength, I felt, would sustain me till I had seen her, and to see her I was determined at every risk. I would entrust to no one our friend Soukhoroukof's message and advice. The idea occurred to me that if I could but get a horse I might push on more rapidly than I possibly could on foot, but how to secure one was the difficulty. To purchase one would require more money than I could spare, and it would be impossible to get one at the postmaster's without a pa.s.s. I should instantly have been questioned, and imprisoned till I could give an account of myself. Indeed, the greater portion of my route lay along byroads, or no roads at all, across the country. Morning was approaching, and I was getting very weary, for it must be remembered that I had taken but little rest the previous day, when I saw in the distance, reflected in the sky, a red gleam of light. It was a wild district, and I knew of no village in that direction, but it appeared to me to proceed from the burning of some cottage. 'Some woodman's hut, perhaps, has caught fire,' I said to myself, as I pushed onward. As I drew still nearer there seemed to be several fires, and I began to fear that an entire village, perhaps, was on fire. I determined, at all events, to ascertain the cause of the conflagration before I stopped to rest. I walked on, therefore, as fast as I could, and at length, having reached a slightly rising ground, I saw before me a number of tents grouped together, at a short distance from each other, and enclosed by a circle of waggons. Outside the waggons were tethered horses, and donkeys, and mules, and several head of cattle. The whole encampment, even at that early hour, was astir: some persons were bending round the fires which had at first attracted my attention, busily employed in cooking; others were lashing up packages, filling panniers with the contents of the tents; while young lads were carrying round fodder and water to the horses and cattle. They might have been mistaken for a party of merchants going with goods brought from far-off provinces to the fair of Nishni, but I recognised them at once as a band of Zingari or gipsies, probably bound in the same direction. I had often met these people during the long period of my wanderings, and I was well acquainted with their habits. Under certain restrictions from Government they rove about the country, and lead a free and independent life of a purely nomadic character. They are not so wealthy as those who live in the towns, and sing on the stage and in public gardens; but they are more trustworthy, and have more rude virtues than their brethren of the city. Oftentimes had I spent nights together in their tents when they knew that they were running some risk by sheltering me, and might, perhaps, have obtained some reward by handing me over to Government. I was in hopes that I might find among them some of my former friends, so I resolved at once to go boldly among them. As I drew near the encampment, a number of dogs rushed out from beneath the waggons, and began barking at me furiously. The noise brought out several of the men, who came from among the tents, peering at me cautiously through the darkness.

"'What do you want here?' asked one of them gruffly, calling back the dogs.

"'Shelter and a.s.sistance,' said I.

"'You are not likely to find either one or the other here. We are moving from hence, and require no strangers.'

"'Lead me to your chief, then, and I will hear what he has to say,' I replied, in a confident voice.

"'He is here,' said a man, stepping out from among the tents. 'Tell me what you require.'

"There was nothing in the appearance of the man to distinguish him as the chief, except that his voice was particularly clear and firm, and there was an air of authority in his manner, as if he was accustomed to command.

"'You are known to be kind to the persecuted and to the friendless, and I am one of those coming to seek your a.s.sistance.'

"'You shall have what you require, my friend, if it is in my power to give it you,' he replied; 'but come in here, and let me know more particularly what it is you require.'

"He took me by the hand, and led me in front of a tent, where he made me sit down on a bale, which had just been prepared for loading a horse.

"'We have met before, father,' said I, as soon as I saw his features more distinctly by the bright light of the fire. 'It was some time ago, though, yet you will remember the circ.u.mstance, I know. The first snows of winter had just fallen, and a hard frost had set in, when one of your children strayed into the woods. On, on she went, thinking she was approaching your encampment, but was all the time getting farther from it. The evening was setting in, when she saw three huge animals moving towards her; they were wolves, ravenous with hunger. An armed man might well have dreaded to encounter them alone. I was, happily, in the wood, a houseless wanderer. I beheld the scene from the entrance of a rude hut I had just constructed to shelter myself from the inclemency of the weather. The sweet child stood petrified with terror--the savage beasts approached her--my fowling-piece lay by my side--I levelled it, fired, and brought the largest wolf to the ground. Then loading as I went, I rushed forward with a loud shout, which made the animals stop to see whence it came. This gave me time to load and to shoot another through the head; the third took to flight, but I killed him also just as he was disappearing among the trees. The little girl stood staring at me with amazement, then burst into tears. I took her up in my arms, and wrapped a sheepskin round her. She was a sweet little creature. Her features and her dress told me the race to which she belonged. I had seen the encampment in the morning; it was more than two versts away, but I was strong and active, and I knew I could carry her as far. She rested quietly in my arms, with all the beautiful confidence of childhood. I took my gun with me, and went gaily on over the crisp ground. In less than an hour I reached the encampment. There was joy and grat.i.tude in the hearts of those to whom I delivered her. They had been searching for her in vain, and had already believed her a prey to wolves, which much infested that region.'

"'Ah, she was my own, my beautiful little Azeota,' exclaimed, the gipsy chief, looking at me earnestly. 'Every circ.u.mstance you relate was told me then, I remember. But was it you did that brave act? Was it you who saved my child? Pardon me that I did not know you; you are much changed since then.'

"'So I believe,' said I. 'Toil and anxiety have done their work on my features, I doubt not. I am glad of it in one respect, for though at times it may prevent my friends recognising me, it will more effectually guard me from being discovered by my enemies.'

"'Ah, my dear friend, my son, my well-beloved, I know you now, though,'

exclaimed the gipsy, springing up, and throwing his arms round my neck, while his countenance exhibited the deepest emotion. 'Ah, my Azeota, my sweet flower! I have lost her; death has taken her from me, but I am not the less grateful to you for what you did for her, and I thank the fates who have sent you once more to me that we may converse together of her. But tell me, how is it that you come here to seek me?'

"On this I told him such part of my history as I thought would afford him interest, and informed him of my purpose of endeavouring to find Aneouta, and of going on afterwards to Nishni and Moscow.

"'I will think over the matter as we go along,' he replied; 'we shall soon be on the move; you will ride along with me. But stay, you have had no food this morning, probably. Here, Kazan,' he cried, calling to a lad who was pa.s.sing; 'bring some provisions here immediately for this, my friend; your mother will give them to you--the best she has, tell her. Then saddle my black mare, and bring her along with my horse; he will ride her.'

"I thanked the gipsy chief for his arrangements. Nothing could be more opportune than the encounter. The tribe were proceeding in the very direction I wished to go, and though I could have performed the distance almost as quickly on foot, I should now be enabled to do it without fatigue. I ate a hearty breakfast, and by the time it was finished, the gipsy's mare was brought to me to mount. Accompanying the chief, I rode on to the head of the caravan. As he pa.s.sed along the line he issued his orders in a tone which showed that he was accustomed to be obeyed, and this increased my confidence that he would be enabled to a.s.sist me effectually. There were nearly three hundred people, I calculated, altogether; quite a little army. Some of the younger men and boys were on foot, lightly clad, with sticks in their hands to drive the horses and cattle; others were on horseback, while some of the very old men and women and children were carried in the waggons, which were driven by some of the men on foot. The story of my having preserved little Azeota from the wolves had already got about, and as I rode by, I was saluted with expressions of grat.i.tude, which were very satisfactory. I felt indeed thankful that I had again fallen among friends so well able to help me. At the time to which I allude, I had remained many days in the camp. I had conversed much with the gipsies on religious subjects, and, alas! Had found their minds totally ignorant of the truth. Though living in a land at least called Christian, they knew nothing of that pure faith; they were almost dest.i.tute of any hope, any fear; this life was all they thought of. The future, eternity, was totally beyond their comprehension. They put their hands before their eyes as if to shut it out when I spoke of it. Gradually I unfolded to them holy things; I spoke to them of the Bible and its wonderful history, and by degrees they listened and were interested. Finally, I believe that I made much impression on the minds of many of them. Then I was once more obliged to fly for my liberty. Still I often visited the Zingari whenever I had an opportunity, and never was otherwise than kindly received by them.

But to return to my late adventure with them.

"We had ridden some versts, and the gipsy chief had long been silent, when he turned to me, and said:--

"'I have thought of a plan by which you may not only see your Aneouta, but you may, if she will consent, carry her away from those who keep her from you. You shall disguise yourself as a gipsy, and, accompanied by one of the young women of the tribe, you will easily gain access to her, under the pretence of telling fortunes. If you can persuade her to fly from her persecutors, we will protect her. No one will suspect that you have gone to the house for any other purpose than collecting a few kopecks, or stealing chickens, perhaps; and who will think of searching for her with us?'