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This is the translation of the so-caled "missing chapter" discarded by Pushkin and preserved only in a rough draft manuscript and outline of his story. It was eventually published in 1880 but was not intended to be a part of the finished novel. Some English versions of the novel contain this passage just before the main character's arrest in Chapter 13 but Pushkin never intended that his working files be included in the finished version.


I could not answer her. Other people were there. I did not want to abandon myself in their presence to the feelings that agitated me. At last she drove away. I returned to Zurin, sad and silent. He wanted to cheer me; I sought distraction; we spent the day in riotous gaiety and set out on the march in the evening.

It was the end of February. The winter, which had made military operations difficult, was coming to an end, and our generals were preparing for concerted action. Pugatchov was still besieging Orenburg. Meanwhile the army detachments around him were joining forces and approaching the brigands' nest on all sides. Rebellious villages were restored to order at the sight of the soldiers, brigand bands dispersed on our approach, and everything indicated a speedy and successful end of the war.

Soon Prince Golitsin defeated Pugatchov at the Tatishcheva fortress, scattered his hordes, delivered Orenburg and dealt, it seemed, the last and decisive blow to the rebellion. Zurin was at that time sent against a gang of rebellious Bashkirs, who had dispersed before we caught sight of them. Spring found us in a Tatar village. Rivers were in flood and roads impassable. We could do nothing, but comforted ourselves with the thought that the petty and tedious war with brigands and savages would soon be over.

Pugatchov was not caught, however. He appeared at the Siberian foundries, collected there fresh bands of followers and began his evil work once more. Again rumours of his success spread abroad. We heard of the fall of the Siberian fortresses. Soon afterwards, the army leaders, who slumbered care-free in the hope that the contemptible rebel was powerless, were alarmed by the news of his taking Kazan and advancing towards Moscow. Zurin received an order to cross the Volga and hasten to Simbirsk where the flames of insurrection were already burning. I was overjoyed at the thought of being able, perhaps, to call at our estate, embrace my parents and see Marya Ivanovna. I jumped with joy like a child and kept repeating, as I hugged Zurin, 'To Simbirsk! To Simbirsk!' Zurin sighed and said, shrugging his shoulders, 'No, you will come to no good. You will be married and done for!'

We were approaching the banks of the Volga. Our regiment entered the village N. and was to spend the night there. The following morning we were to cross the river. The village foreman told me that all the villages on the other side had rebelled, and that Pugatchov's bands prowled about everywhere. I was very much alarmed at this news.

Impatience possessed me; I could not rest. My father's estate was on the other side of the river, some twenty miles from it. I asked if any one could row me across. All the peasants were fishermen; there were plenty of boats. I went to tell Zurin of my intention.

'Take care,' he said, 'it is dangerous for you to go alone. Wait for the morning. We will be the first to cross and will pay a visit to your parents with fifty hussars in case of emergency.'

I insisted on going. The boat was ready. I stepped into it with two boatmen. They pushed off and plied their oars.

The sky was clear. The moon was shining brightly. The air was still. The Volga flowed calmly and evenly. Swaying rhythmically, the boat glided over the dark waves. Half an hour passed. I sank into dreaming. I thouglit of the calm of nature and the horrors of civil war; of love, and so on. We reached the middle of the river. . . . Suddenly the boatmen began whispering together.

'What is it?' I asked, coming to myself.

'Heaven only knows; we can't tell,' the boatmen answered, looking into the distance.

I looked in the same direction and saw in the dark something floating down the river. The mysterious object was approaching us. I told the oarsmen to stop and wait.

The moon hid behind a cloud. The floating phantom seemed darker still. It was quite close to me and yet I could not distinguish it.

'Whatever can it be?' the boatmen said. 'It isn't a sail nor a mast.'

Suddenly the moon came out from behind the cloud and lighted a terrible sight. A gallows fixed to a raft was floating towards us. Three corpses were swinging on the cross-bar. A morbid curiosity possessed me. I wanted to look into the hanged men's faces. I told the oarsmen to hold the raft with a boat-hook, and my boat knocked against the floating gallows. I jumped out and found myself between the terrible posts. The full moon lighted the disfigured faces of the unfortunate creatures. . . . One of them was an old Tchuvash,(The Tchuvashes are a Mongolian tribe settled in Eastern Russia. (TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.) another a Russian peasant boy of about twenty, strong and healthy. I was shocked when I looked at the third and could not refrain from crying out: it was our servant Vanka, poor Vanka, who, in his foolishness, went over to Pugatchov. A black board was nailed over the gallows and had written on it in white letters:

'Thieves and rebels'. The oarsmen waited for me unconcerned, holding the raft with the hook. I stepped into the boat. The raft floated down the river. The gallows showed black in the dim night long after we passed it. At last it disappeared and my boat landed at the high and steep bank.

I paid the oarsmen handsomely. One of them took me to the foreman of the village by the landing- stage. We went into the hut together. When the foreman heard that I was asking for horses he spoke to me rather rudely, but my guide whispered something to him and his sternness immediately gave way to hurried obsequiousness. The troika was ready in a minute. I stepped into the carriage and told the driver to take me to our estate.

We galloped along the high road past the sleeping villages. The only thing I feared was being stopped on the way. My night meeting on the Volga proved the presence of rebels in the district, but it also proved strong counteraction on the part of the authorities. To meet all emergencies I had in my pocket the pass given me by Pugatchov and Colonel Zurin's order. But I did not meet any one, and, towards morning, I saw the river and the pine copse behind which lay our village. The driver whipped up the horses and in another quarter of an hour I drove into it. Our house stood at the other end. The horses were going at full speed. Suddenly in the middle of the village street the driver began pulling up.

'What is it?' I asked impatiently.

'A barrier, sir,' the driver answered, bringing with difficulty the fuming horses to a standstill.

Indeed, I saw a barrier fixed across the road and a watchman with a club. The man came up to me and, taking off his hat, asked for my passport.

'What does this mean?' I asked him. 'Why is this barrier here? Whom are you guarding?'

'Why, sir, we are in rebellion,' he answered, scratching himself.

'And where are your masters?' I asked, with a sinking heart.

'Where are our masters?' the peasant repeated. 'Master and mistress are in the granary.'

'In the granary ?'

'Why, Andryushka, the foreman, put them in stocks, you see, and wants to take them to our father Tsar.'

'Good heavens! Lift the bar, you blockhead! What are you gaping at ?'

The watchman did not move. I jumped out of the carriage, gave him a box on the ear, I am sorry to say, and lifted the bar myself.

The peasant looked at me in stupid perplexity. I took my seat in the carriage once more and told the driver to drive to the house as fast as he could. Two peasants, armed with clubs, were standing by the locked doors of the granary. The carriage drew up just in front of then - I jumped out and rushed at them.

'Open the doors!' I said to them.

I must have looked formidable, for they threw down their clubs and ran away. I tried to knock the lock off the door or to pick it, but the doors were of oak and the huge lock was unbreakable. At that moment a young peasant came out of the servants' quarters and haughtily asked me how I dared to make a disturbance.

'Where is Andryushka, the foreman?' I shouted to him. 'Call him to me.'

'I am Andrey Afanasyitch and not Andryushka,' he answered proudly, with his arms akimbo. 'What do you want ?'

By way of an answer, I seized him by the collar and dragging him to the granary doors told him to open them. He did not comply at once; but the 'fatherly' chastisement had due effect upon him. He pulled out the key and unlocked the granary. I rushed over the threshold and saw in a dark corner dimly lighted by a narrow skylight my father and mother. Their hands were tied and their feet were in stocks. I flew to embrace them and could not utter a word. They both looked at me with amazement: three years of military life had so altered me that they could not recognize me.

Suddenly I heard the sweet voice I knew: 'Pyotr Andreyitch! It's you ?'

I turned round and saw Marya Ivanovna in another comer, also bound hand and foot. I was dumbfounded. My father looked at me in silence, not daring to believe his senses. His face lit up with joy.

'Welcome, Petrusha,' he said, pressing me to his heart. 'Thank God, we have lived to see you !'

My mother cried out and burst into tears.

'Petrusha, my darling!' she said. 'How has the Lord brought you here? Are you well?'

I hastened to cut with my sword the ropes that bound them and to take them out of their prison; but when I came to the door I found that it had been locked again.

'Andryushka, open!' I shouted.

'No fear!' the man answered from behind the door. 'You may as well sit here, too! We'll teach you how to be rowdy and drag the Tsar's officials by the collar!'

I began looking round the granary to see if there was some way of getting out.

'Don't trouble,' my father said to me. 'It's not my way to have granaries into which thieves could find a way.'

My mother, who had rejoiced a moment before at my coming, was overcome with despair at the thought that I, too, would have to perish with the rest of the family. But I was calmer now that I was with them and Marya Ivanovna. I had a sword and two pistols; I could withstand a siege. Zurin was due to arrive in the evening and would set us free. I told all this to my parents and succeeded in calming my mother and Marya Ivanovna. They gave themselves up completely to the joy of our meeting, and several hours passed for us imperceptibly in expressions of affection and continual conversation.

'Well, Pyotr,' my father said, 'you have been foolish enough, and I was quite angry with you at the time. But it's no use remembering old scores. I hope that you have sown your wild oats and are reformed. I know that you have served as an honest officer should. I thank you; you have comforted me in my old age. If I owe my deliverance to you, life will be doubly pleasant to me.'

I kissed his hand with tears and gazed at Marya Ivanovna, who was so overjoyed at my presence that she seemed quite calm and happy.

About midday we heard extraordinary uproar and shouting. 'What does this mean?' my father said. 'Can it already be your Colonel?'

'Impossible,' I answered. ' He won't come before evening.

The noise increased. The alarm bell was rung. We heard men on horseback galloping across the yard. At that moment Savelyitch's grey head was thrust through the narrow opening cut in the wall and the poor old man said in a pitiful voice:

'Andrey Petrovitch! Pyotr Andreyitch, my dear! Marya Ivanovna! We are lost! The villains have come into the village. And do you know who has brought them, Pyotr Andreyitch? Shvabrin, Alexey Ivanitch, damnation take him!'

When Marya Ivanovna heard the hated name she clasped her hands and remained motionless.

'Listen!' I said to Savelyitch. 'Send someone on horseback to the ferry to meet the hussar regiment and to tell the Colonel of our danger.'

'But whom can I send, sir? All the boys have joined the rebels, and the horses have all been seized. Oh, dear! There they are in the yard! They are coming to the granary.'

As he said this, we heard several voices behind the door. I made a sign to my mother and Marya Ivanovna to move away into a comer, bared my sword, and leaned against the wall just by the door. My father took the pistols, cocked them both, and stood beside me. The lock rattled, the door opened, and Andryushka's head peeped in. I hit it with my sword and he fell, blocking the doorway. At the same moment my father fired the pistol. The crowd that had besieged us ran away, cursing. I dragged the wounded man across the threshold and closed the door.

The courtyard was full of armed men. I recognized Shvabrin among them.

'Don't be afraid,' I said to the women, 'there is hope. And don't you shoot any more, father. Let us save up the last shot.'

My mother was praying silently. Marya Ivanovna stood beside her waiting with angelic calm for her fate to be decided. Threats, abuse, and curses were heard behind the door. I was standing in the same place ready to hit the first man who dared to show himself. Suddenly the villains subsided. I heard Shvabrin's voice calling me by name. ' I am here. What do you want ?'

'Surrender, Grinyov; resistance is impossible. Have pity on your old people. Obstinacy will not save you. I shall get at you!'

'Try, traitor!'

' I am not going to put myself forward for nothing or waste my men; I will set the granary on fire and then we'll see what you will do, Belogorsky Don Quixote. Now it is time to have dinner. Meanwhile you can sit and think it over at leisure. Good-bye! Marya Ivanovna, I do not apologize to you: you are probably not feeling bored with your knight beside you in the dark.'

Shvabrin went away, leaving sentries at the door. We were silent, each of us thinking his own thoughts, not daring to express them to the others. I was picturing to myself all that Shvabrin was capable of doing in his malice. I hardly cared about myself. Must I confess it? Even my parents' fate terrified me less than Marya Ivanovna's. I knew that my mother was adored by the peasants and the house serfs. My father, too, was loved in spite of his sternness, for he was just and knew the true needs of the men he owned. Tlieir rebellion was a delusion, a passing intoxication, and not the expression of their resentment. It was possible that my parents would be spared. But Marya Ivanovna? What did the dissolute and unscrupulous man hold in store for her? I did not dare to dwell upon this awful thought and would have killed her sooner (God forgive me!) than see her fall once more into the hands of the cruel enemy.

Another hour passed. Drunken men could be heard singing in the village. Our sentries envied them, and in their annoyance abused us, threatening us with tortures and death. We were waiting for Shvabrin to carry out his threat. At last there was great commotion in the courtyard and we heard Shvabrin's voice once more.

'Well, have you thought better of it? Do you surrender to me of your own will ?'

No one answered.

After waiting a while, Shvabrin ordered his men to bring some straw. In a few minutes flames appeared, lighting the dim granary. Smoke began to rise from under the door.

Then Marya Ivanovna came up to me and, taking me by the hand, said in a low voice:

'Come, Pyotr Andreyitch, don't let both yourself and your parents perish because of me. Shvabrin will listen to me. Let me out!'

'Never!' I cried angrily. 'Do you know what awaits you?'

'I will not survive dishonour,' she answered calmly, 'but perhaps I shall save my deliverer and the family that has so generously sheltered a poor orphan. Good-bye, Andrey Petrovitch! Good-bye, Avdotya Vassilyevna! You have been more than benefactors to me. Bless me! Farewell to you, too, Pyotrr Andreyitch. Believe me that . that . . .'

She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. . . . I was beside myself. My mother was weeping.

'Stop this nonsense, Marya Ivanovna,' said my father. 'Who ever would dream of letting you go alone to the brigands? Sit here and keep quiet. If we must die, we may as well die together. Listen! What is he saying now ?'

'Do you surrender?' Shvabrin shouted. 'You see you will be roasted in another five minutes.'

'We won't surrender, you villain!' my father answered firmly.

His vigorous, deeply lined face was wonderfully animated. His eyes sparkled under the grey eyebrows. Turning to me. he said: 'Now 's the time!'

He opened the door. The flames rushed in and rose up to the beams whose chinks were stuffed with dry moss. My father fired the pistol, stepped over the burning threshold and shouted 'Follow me!' I took my mother and Marya Ivanovna by the hands and quickly led them out. Shvabrin, shot through by my father's feeble hand, was lying by the threshold. The crowd of brigands who had rushed away at our sudden sally took courage and began closing in upon us. I succeeded in dealing a few more blows; but a well aimed brick hit me right on the chest. I fell down and lost consciousness for a few moments, I was surrounded and disarmed. Coming to myself I saw Shvabrin sitting on the blood-stained grass, with all our family standing before him.

I was supported under the arms. A crowd of peasants, Cossacks, and Bashkirs hemmed us in. Shvabrin was terribly pale. He was pressing one hand to his wounded side. His face expressed malice and pain. He slowly raised his head, glanced at me and said, in a weak, hardly audible voice:

'Hang him . . . and all of them . . . except her.'

The crowd surrounded us at once and dragged us to the gates. But suddenly they left us and scampered away: Zurin and a whole squadron of hussars, with bared swords, rode into the courtyard.

The rebels were flying as fast as they could. The hussars pursued them, striking right and left with their swords and taking prisoners. Zurin jumped off his horse, bowed to my father and mother, and warmly clasped me by the hand.

'I have come just in time,' he said to me. 'Ah, and here is your betrothed!'

Marya Ivanovna flushed crimson. My father went up to him and thanked him calmly, though he was obviously touched. My mother embraced him, calling him an angel-deliverer.

'Welcome to our home!' my father said to him, and led him towards the house.

Zurin stopped as he passed Shvabrin.

'Who is this?' he asked, looking at the wounded man.

'It is the leader of the gang,' my father answered, with a certain pride that betokened an old soldier. 'God has helped my feeble hand to punish the young villain and to avenge the blood of my son.'

'It is Shvabrin,' I said to Zurin.

'Shvabrin! I am very glad. Hussars, take him! Tell the leech to dress his wound and to take the utmost care of him. Svhabrin must certainly be sent to the Kazan Secret Commission. He is one of the chief criminals and his evidence may be of great importance. . . .'

Shvabrin wearily opened his eyes. His face expressed nothing but physical pain. The hussars carried him away on an outspread cloak.

We went into the house. I looked about me with a tremor, remembering the years of my childhood. Nothing had changed in the house, everything was in its usual place:

Shvabrin had not allowed it to be pillaged, preserving in his very degradation an unconscious aversion to base cupidity.

The servants came into the hall. They had taken no part in the rebellion and were genuinely glad of our deliverance. Savelyitch was triumphant. It must be mentioned that during the alarm produced by the brigands' arrival he ran to the stables where Shvabrin's horse had been put, saddled it, led it out quietly and, unnoticed in the confusion, galloped towards the ferry. He met the regiment having a rest this side of the Volga. When Zurin heard from him of our danger, he ordered his men to mount, cried ' Off! Off! Gallop!' and, thank God, arrived in time.

Zurin insisted that the head of Andryushka the foreman should be exposed for a few hours at the top of a pole by the tavern.

The hussars returned from their pursuit bringing several prisoners with them. They were locked in the same granary where we had endured our memorable siege. We all went to our rooms. The old people needed a rest. As I had not slept the whole night, I flung myself on the bed and dropped fast asleep. Zurin went to make his arrangements.

In the evening we all met round the samovar in the drawing-room, talking gaily of the past danger. Marya Ivanovna poured out the tea. I sat down beside her and devoted myself entirely to her. My parents seemed to look with favour upon the tenderness of our relations. That evening lives in my memory to this day. I was happy, completely happy- and are there many such moments in poor human life?

The following day my father was told that the peasants had come to ask his pardon. My father went out on to the steps to talk to them. When the peasants saw him they knelt down.

'Well, you silly took,' he said to them, 'whatever did you rebel for?"

'We are sorry, master,' they answered like one man.

'Sorry, are you? They get into mischief and then they are sorry! I forgive you for the sake of our family joy - God has allowed me to see my son, Pyotr Andreyitch, again. So be it, a sin confessed is a sin forgiven.'

'We did wrong; of course we did.'

'God has sent fine weather. It is time for haymaking; and what have you been doing for the last three days, you fools? Foreman! send every one to make hay; and mind that by St. John's Day all the hay is in stacks, you red-haired rascal! Begone!'

The peasants bowed and went to work as though nothing had happened.

Shvabrin's wound was not mortal. He was sent under escort to Kazan. I saw from the window how they laid him in the cart. Our eyes met. He bent his head and I made haste to move away from the window; I was afraid of looking as though I were triumphing over a humiliated and unhappy enemy.

Zurin had to go on farther. I decided to join him, in spite of my desire to spend a few more days with my family. On the eve of the march I came to my parents and, in accordance with the custom of the time, bowed down to the ground before them, asking their blessing on my marriage with Marya Ivanovna. The old people lifted me up, and with joyous tears, gave their consent. I brought Marya Ivanovna, pale and trembling, to them. They blessed us. I will not attempt to describe what I was feeling. Those who have been in my position will understand; as to those who have not, I can only pity them and advise them, while there is still time, to fall in love and receive their parents' blessing.

The following day our regiment was ready. Zurin took leave of our family. We were all certain that the military operations would soon be over. I was hoping to be married in another month's time. Marya Ivanovna kissed me in front of all as she said good-bye. I took my seat in the carriage. Savelyitch followed me again and the regiment marched off. As long as I could see it I looked back at the country house that I was leaving once more. A gloomy foreboding tormented me. Something seemed to whisper to me that my misfortunes were not over yet. My heart felt that a storm was ahead.

I will not describe our campaign and the end of the Pugatchov war. We passed through villages pillaged by Pugatchov and could not help taking from the poor inhabitants what the rebels had left them.

The people did not know whom to obey. There was no lawful authority. The landowners were hiding in the forests. Bands of brigands were ransacking the country. The chiefs of separate detachments sent in pursuit of Pugatchov, who was by then retreating towards Astrakhan, arbitrarily punished the guilty and the innocent. The provinces where the conflagration had raged were in a terrible state. God save us from seeing a Russian revolt, meaningless and merciless! Those who are plotting impossible violent changes in Russia are either young and do not know our people, or are hard-hearted men who do not care a straw either about their own lives or those of other people.

Pugatchov was in retreat, pursued by Ivan Ivanovitch Michelson. Soon after we learned that he was utterly defeated. At last Zurin heard that he had been captured and at the same time received an order to halt. The war was over! I could go to my parents at last! The thought of embracing them and of seeing Marya Ivanovna, of whom I had had no news, delighted me. I danced with joy like a child. Zurin laughed and said, shrugging his shoulders, ' No, you'll come to a bad end! You will be married and done for!'

And yet a strange feeling poisoned my joy: I could not help being troubled at the thought of the villain smeared with the blood of so many innocent victims and now awaiting his puhishment. 'Why didn't he fall on a bayonet? or get hit with a cannon-ball?' I thought with vexation. 'He could not have done anything better.' What will you have? I could not think of Pugatchov without remembering how he had spared me at one of the awful moments of my life and saved my betrothed from the vile Shvabrin's hands.

Zurin gave me leave of absence. In a few days I was to be once more with my family and see my Marya Ivanovna. Suddenly an unexpected storm burst upon me.

On the day of my departure, at the very minute when I was to go, Zurin came into my room with a letter in his hand, looking very much troubled. My heart sank. I was frightened without knowing why. He sent out my orderly and said he had something to tell me.

'What is it?' I asked anxiously.

'Something rather unpleasant,' he answered, giving me the letter. 'Read what I have just received.'

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