ave him tried in twenty-four hours, and we will shoot him on the
glacis of the fort. But in the meantime we must have patience."

"Have patience!" I cried, beside myself. "Between this and then he will
ill-treat Marya."

"Oh!" replied the General. "Still that would not be such a terrible
misfortune for her. It would be better for her to be the wife of
Chvabrine, who can now protect her. And when we shall have shot him,
then, with heaven's help, the betrothed will come together again. Pretty
little widows do not long remain single; I mean to say a widow more
easily finds a husband."

"I'd rather die," I cried, furiously, "than leave her to Chvabrine."

"Ah! Bah!" said the old man, "I understand now. Probably you are in love
with Marya Ivanofna. Then it is another thing. Poor boy! But still it is
not possible for me to give you a battalion and fifty Cossacks. This
expedition is unreasonable, and I cannot take it upon my own
responsibility."

I bowed my head; despair overwhelmed me. All at once an idea flashed
across me, and what it was the reader will see in the next chapter, as
the old novelists used to say.

CHAPTER XI.

THE REBEL CAMP.

I left the General and made haste to return home.

Saveliitch greeted me with his usual remonstrances--

"What pleasure can you find, sir, in fighting with these drunken
robbers? Is it the business of a _'boyar_?' The stars are not always
propitious, and you will only get killed for naught. Now if you were
making war with Turks or Swedes! But I'm ashamed even to talk of these
fellows with whom you are fighting."

I interrupted his speech.

"How much money have I in all?"

"Quite enough," replied he, with a complacent and satisfied air. "It was
all very well for the rascals to hunt everywhere, but I over-reached
them."

Thus saying he drew from his pocket a long knitted purse, all full of
silver pieces.

"Very well, Saveliitch," said I. "Give me half what you have there, and
keep the rest for yourself. I am about to start for Fort Belogorsk."

"Oh! my father, Petr' Andrejitch," cried my good follower, in a
tremulous voice; "do you not fear God? How do you mean to travel now
that all the roads be blocked by the robbers? At least, take pity on
your parents if you have none on yourself. Where do you wish to go?
Wherefore? Wait a bit, the troops will come and take all the robbers.
Then you can go to the four winds."

My resolution was fixed.

"It is too late