I return to my story. Once evening, it was in the month of October,
1773, I was alone in the house, listening to the whistling of the
Autumn winds, and watching the clouds gliding rapidly before the moon.
An order came from the Commandant, calling me to his presence. I went
that instant. I found there Alexis, Ignatius and the Corporal of the
Cossacks, but neither the wife nor daughter of the Commandant. My
chief bade me good evening, had the door closed, and every one seated,
except the Corporal who remained standing; then he drew a paper from
his pocket and said to us:

"Gentlemen, important news! Listen to what the General writes." He
put on his spectacles and read:

"To the Commandant of the Fortress of Belogorsk, Captain Mironoff.
_Confidential_. I hereby inform you that the deserter and turbulent
Cossack of the Don, Imiliane Pougatcheff, after having been guilty of
the unpardonable insolence of usurping the name of the deceased Emperor
Peter III, has assembled a troop of brigands, disturbed the villages
of the Iaik, and has even taken and destroyed several fortresses, at
the same time committing everywhere robberies and assassinations.
Therefore, upon the receipt of this, you will, Captain, bethink you
of the measures to be taken to repulse the said robber and usurper;
and if possible, in case he turn his arms against the fortress
confided to your care, to completely exterminate him."

"It is easy to talk," said the Commandant, taking off his spectacles,
and folding the paper; "but we must use every precaution. The rascal
seems strong, and we have only 130 men, even adding the Cossacks, upon
whom there is no dependence, be it said without reproach to thee,