Frederick Ferdinand Moore

“ For Kirsakoff, a survivor of the old autocracy, was plotting with the Mongol, Zorogoff, to defeat the purposes of the revolution and once more bind the people to the wheel of slavery. The old system was evil, and no vestige of it must remain. That was the aim of the people, and Peter believed in it. His mind had never grasped the thought that in the background of events there might be a new autocracy throwing sand in the eyes of the people to enslave them with new fetters which were not yet visible. “Destroy! Destroy all who do not work!” ”

“ Katerin saw her father standing with his back to the old wall of the court and six soldiers before him with their rifles upraised and aimed at the old general.
She fell back against Shimilin, half fainting, but recovering herself, staggered away from the window and fell upon her knees, her head bent toward the icon, moaning prayers.
“Your father can be saved,” warned Shimilin. “Would you send him to execution? Tell me where the money is hidden—or when I lift my hand to the window, the soldiers will fire!”
“We are ready for death. I commend my soul and the soul of my father to God! ”

“ But I cannot believe that this young man intends to harm us. He is a Russian, true enough, but have you lost faith in all of our people? And this Peter Petrovitch appears to be kind and gentle. You and Slipitsky think in the old ways—only the old thoughts of violence and death. This man has been to America and he may not be an enemy at all. But if it is true that he is seeking you out for evil, then we must be sure of that before we do anything against him. ”

“ I am as secret as an owl. Those fools of soldiers are all drunk and talking in their sleep. They shoot their guns at the moon every night, to scare honest folk away.”
“What brings you?” demanded Wassili. “Am I to stand here freezing because you want to gossip?”
“I came to talk with Michael Alexandrovitch,” said Ilya with pomposity. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, for the vodka he had drunk was again asserting its potency because he had been standing still so long outside the gate. He blew gently down into his whiskers to melt away the ice which had formed in the bristles from his breath. ”

“ Is it not wise to be known here as a servant? We have come here as peasants and wish to be known as such for safety. Look at my old black dress! I have on my slippers—see—and I can let down my hair. How will an American know that I am not a samovar girl—unless, as we have said, he recognizes me at once as a Kirsakoff? And I can talk with him, perhaps. He will not be afraid of saying things to a girl who is a servant which he would keep from others.”
“And what then?” asked Michael with a frown. “Do you think that this American is going about telling his secret business to any samovar girl? ”

“ You are, Peter Petrovitch. Time has defeated you.”
“No,” he insisted. “I have waited twenty years——”
“And after twenty years, you come back to what? Michael Kirsakoff and his daughter hiding from his Cossacks! The old governor, worse off than peasants, with death lurking at the door! The general of the Czar’s army, in flight and hiding like one of his own escapes in the old days! What sweeter vengeance would you ask, Peter Petrovitch?” ”

“ Through the gray and frozen haze came the sounds of voices, the creaking of boots, the jangle of a distant bell from the horses of a troika—a ghostly world filled with ghostly shapes, hidden, yet full of unseen life. It was just such a morning as that one in the past when Peter Petrovitch waited for the Czar’s mail, and the column of unfortunates went clanking out into the wilderness to cut wood under a guard of Cossack soldiers. ”

“ Can you doubt that He let you live that I might show you where you stood one cold morning, master of lives in the Valley of Despair and death waiting the snap of your finger? Times have changed, Michael. The light has come to Russia—a new day, and for such as you who gave us but black despair, black night has come. And justice without mercy!”
Peter swung round from the window and threw Michael upon his feet. The old general swayed dizzily and saved himself from falling by grasping at the table. ”

“ But if Zorogoff knows, then we are all dead together—as dead as the prophets! That Ataman is a robber, Excellence! Every week I must pay him money till I am beggared. Taxes, he calls it! Is the last kopeck from a poor man taxes, I ask? And every name that goes in the book he watches, for fear I would have a stranger under my roof who might be a spy against him! And that dog of a Dazo is his eyes. But we must fool Dazo, as you shall see.”
“He will know if we do not go away again,” said Katerin. “How are we to fool him on that?” ”

“ Peter could not realize yet the disaster which had come to him and his father. He knew only that the one human being who loved him, and whom he loved above everything in the world, was hurt and bleeding. The slowly reddening snow beside his father gave the boy a vague idea of a wound which might in time be cured.
And it might not be real at all, this tragic morning, but a dream. Peter saw about him the black circle of boots like the trees of a forest; he saw the print of nails in the hard snow ”

“ But Michael was only a shadow of his former self. His knees bent under him, his attenuated form did not fill the tunic, his hands were white and withered. They shook, as did his head at times, with the palsy of his age and feebleness. Yet the old general was still a striking figure in the gray tunic with the white cross hanging from its collar, the wreath and sword of another order of the Czar on his breast. A leather strap crossed his shoulder and came down athwart the front of the tunic. The heavy gold straps on his shoulders marked his rank. ”

“ The Ataman pushed through the guards, and strode into the room, looking straight at Peter, stern and challenging. The Mongol chieftain’s greatcoat was off, and his somewhat fantastic costume betrayed his childish love for personal display. Rising from the swarthy forehead was the towering white cap of long hairy wool, studded in the center of its flat front by a wide slab of crudely hammered gold half the size of a man’s hand, and in it set a diamond. At his left side hung a tremendous scimitar with a hilt-knot of gold fiber swinging from the guard. ”

“ The old superstitions of peasants and exiles which he had learned in his father’s hut as a boy returned to his mind—tales of werewolves who took the shapes of men for diabolical purposes. Was there not something in it all? Was not he himself something like a werewolf? Was he not a Russian in an American coat? Michael Kirsakoff would never suspect an American officer of being the son of a dead exile. Nor would Kirsakoff suspect an American officer of being the same poor boy who had been thrown into prison for a whim—now come for vengeance. ”

“ Michael peered at her across the candle flame as if he doubted her sanity. But Katerin looked back at him without the slightest sign that she wavered in her determination to abandon the house.
“I see what you mean,” said Michael sadly. “You prefer to die by bullets rather than by the poison. Perhaps it is the better way—and I shall go with you and we shall die together.” ”

“ Peter stood thus holding Katerin for a minute, as she cried incoherently. Slipitsky had run to Michael and had lifted the old general down into a chair and the moans of the stricken general came above the wailing of the Jew. Peter gave no heed to them but held his pistol with the barrel half downward and watched the soldiers pressed about the door, fearing that Shimilin would not prevent them from using their rifles. Peter knew well that there was no hope of coming out of a fight alive, but he knew that a weapon had a restraining effect if not aimed at any particular person. ”

“ Katerin laughed lightly. “Those who have trusted him are dead. He has taken fortunes before—and then the firing squad. What need has he to destroy us? We should be safe because we are poor.”
Shimilin glanced at the door. He leaned forward and whispered, “Then trust me. Turn over your money to me—and I promise safety. On my word as a Cossack! Come!”
Michael turned quickly and looked at Shimilin in surprise, but Katerin gave her father a glance of caution. She suspected that Shimilin was trying to trap them.
“You must trust us, Captain Shimilin. We have no fortune for Zorogoff or any other man.” ”

“ Peter was really alarmed now. He wondered if Wassili was to be trusted. He wondered if Vashka was really a spy. He doubted that, for if Lutoff were in the service of Zorogoff, Lutoff would scarcely be warning Peter against Vashka. But the situation was dangerous, Peter knew well.
“True, you have not been talking with many,” said Lutoff. “But those with whom you have been talking—they are not safe for you.”
“That is quite possible,” said Peter, smiling. “Almost any one here is dangerous to a stranger. You see, when it comes to that, I am most discreet with you, Mr. Lutoff.” ”

“ Then turning to Shimilin, he said, “I am ready to obey your commands and I submit myself to your soldiers.”
“Take Michael Kirsakoff to the Ataman,” said Shimilin to his men, and they fell in on each side of Michael. Between the two, Michael marched across the room, doing his best to keep his weak old legs from betraying the unsteadiness of his age. At the door he crossed himself twice, and turning back, said to Katerin, “Hope is mightier than fear—remember that you are the daughter of a soldier and that we do not fear death, but only the loss of honor. ”

“ First, we must learn why the American seeks Kirsakoff—for he may not be alone in his reasons, but have others who are equally dangerous. We must get to the bottom of why he seeks you, though the reason does not matter for our purpose. We shall have Slipitsky’s advice, too, before we bring the American to this room to learn where Kirsakoff may be found. And we are not to tell the American where Kirsakoff may be found unless he takes us to the city where we shall say Kirsakoff is hidden—anywhere, it does not matter, so long as we get away from Chita. ”

“ I shall find Kirsakoff.”
“But I should not like to be the one who puts your life in danger,” said Michael. “You may not be aware of all it means—this business of the Governor is not a light subject. You will do well not to cross his tracks, for he will strike at you through Zorogoff’s spies, and you will never know who struck. One cannot fight an army—and Zorogoff will not brook any interference. He will destroy you like a fly upon his bread.”
“I court the danger,” said Peter, sipping his tea, and willing to wait till the old man was in a humor to be more communicative. ”

“ I like a joke, Kirsakoff.”
“It is no joke being a beggar,” put in Katerin.
“You have millions of rubles,” said Shimilin.
“It is easy to count the money in the pockets of other people,” said Katerin. “We were robbed of all we had long before the Ataman Zorogoff began to rule.”
Shimilin’s face took on a sly look. “Is it that you do not like the Ataman Zorogoff? Are you opposed to his rule?”
“I suppose Zorogoff would give up his power if we said we preferred another ruler,” retorted Katerin. “If you came here to trick us into saying anything against Zorogoff, it will not be said. ”

“ I cannot see you walk into the streets with such wolves about.”
“No,” said Katerin, “I do not wish you to go alone. We shall go together—and if we must, we shall die together. But we cannot go against the designs of God—if the American officer has been sent to this city by friends to save us, we must not lose a minute in making ourselves known to him. The Ataman said he would come back—and he will come. He knows what I fear more than death. Very good. We must not wait here for him to come—It is not in us to lie hidden here like jackals in traps for the pleasure of the Mongol dog. ”

“ Yes, he knew that he was Russian to the core. His Americanism had never been anything but an outer shell, a readjustment to new conditions, a learning of new things, and a new life. But he had not changed—only the clothes upon his back. True, he thought, the clothes would serve a purpose. Who would ever suspect that an American officer had come to Chita to do what he hoped to do? Who would ever suspect that the American lieutenant, Peter Gordon, could be Peter Petrovitch Gorekin, the son of an unfortunate? ”

“ And the Czar was Ataman of all the Cossacks, just as he was Emperor of all Russians. And there were more Russians in the world than all other peoples put together, counting the barbarians of far lands across the seas.
Peter longed for the day when he would be big enough to become a soldier of majesty, and wear on his cap the little oval button—“The Eye of the Czar.” Then he would know all things. His father always smiled sadly at such ideas.
“Peter Petrovitch Gorekin, a soldier of the Czar!” Peter’s father would say. “A soldier against the people, a soldier to bind our chains the tighter! ”

“ Katerin remained at the window, peering out with anxious eyes. A trio of Cossack soldiers were huddled about the glowing remnants of their night-fire in the street. These were men in the army of the Ataman Zorogoff, the half-Mongol, half-Cossack hetman who ruled the Valley of Despair. The Ataman, in spite of his pretensions to leadership, was only a brigand with an army of adventurers and conscripts at his back, bent upon enriching himself by levying upon the fortunes of all the rich people in his territory. ”

“ He was still in danger, as was Katerin, for there were many in Chita who sought a way to avenge Zorogoff. There were few persons who knew Katerin had killed him, but such knowledge spreads easily in Asia, where there are so many ears listening, so many eyes watching, so many tongues whispering in strange tongues. So Shimilin kept a guard over the hotel, and in it, to see that Peter and Katerin were well protected. ”