to the priest's house. It was ringing with songs, shouts and laughter.
Pougatcheff was at table there with his men. Polacca had followed me;
I sent her in to call out Accoulina secretly. Accoulina came into the
waiting-room, an empty bottle in her hand.

"In the name of heaven, where is Marie?" I asked with agitation.

"The little dove is lying on my bed behind the partition. Oh! Peter,
what danger we have just escaped! The rascal had scarcely seated
himself at table than the poor thing moaned. I thought I should die
of fright. He heard her. 'Who is moaning in your room, old woman?'
'My niece, Czar.' 'Let me see your niece, old woman.' I saluted him
humbly; 'My niece, Czar, has not strength to come before your grace.'
'Then I will go and see her.' And will you believe it, he drew the
curtains and looked at our dove, with his hawk's eyes! The child did
not recognize him. Poor Ivan Mironoff! Basilia! Why was Ignatius
taken, and you spared? What do you think of Alexis? He has cut his
hair and now hobnobs with them in there. When I spoke of my sick
niece he looked at me as if he would run me through with his knife.
But he said nothing, and we must be thankful for that."

The drunken shouts of the guests, and the voice of Father Garasim now
resounded together; the brigands wanted more wine, and Accoulina was
needed. "Go back to your house, Peter," said she, "woe to you, if you
fall into his hands!"

She went to serve her guests; I, somewhat quieted, returned to my room.
Crossing the square, I saw some Bashkirs stealing the boots from the
bodies of the dead. I restrained my useless anger. The brigands had
been through the fortress and had pillaged the officers' houses.