Batschuvatz. There had been burnings and outrages on the property of some neighbouring proprietors, the serfs had long refused to pay tribute, tax, or rent, in any form, and now a body of them had assembled, under a flag, and armed with guns and scythes, and were in open revolt, though for what exact purpose, perhaps even the insurgents did not know. And a regiment of dragoons from Mohilew, with two field pieces, marched through our village on their way to put an end to the disturbance. We all turned out to see them pass, and very imposing and picturesque they looked, with their brass helmets and embroidered saddle cloths, riding by threes in column of march, with carbines unslung, and skirmishers thrown out in advance. But there was an old expression on the faces of the officers, who looked perplexed and anxious, while the soldiers had an apathetic stolidity of countenance that told of anything but zeal. Old Archibald Murray shook his head as he glanced from the soldiers to the peasants in the village street, who stood staring on the martial pageant with sneering impatience rather than the awe they once showed at the sight of a uniform.
“I’m thinking those chiels in the green tunics and brass helmets have just remembered they are sib and rib with the people, and the serfs don’t fear the troops as they did. A better day’s dawning for Russia, I hope and trust, but ah! sirs, there’s a red and stormy morning to get through first, or I’m much mistaken.”
That evening was rather a melancholy one, as is generally the case before a parting. Every one tried to be gay, and failed dismally. Old Mr. Murray tried to talk hopefully of the time to come, when, a few years hence, Vaughan should have saved enough to establish him well at home, and they should all go to back to Britain, where the aged superintendent had always hoped to lay his bones at last.
On this evening the Wohlers had been invited to dine and pass the evening, for, though the steward was neither liked nor esteemed, Mr. Murray desired to avoid the very appearance of slighting a near neighbour. But the invitation was declined. The steward dropped in for a moment to excuse himself and his family, and mentioned that he had written to Prince Emindoff to announce his resignation, and that he should quit Russia for ever as soon as the prince had time to appoint a new intendant. Wohler was in wretchedly low spirits, and not disposed for conversation, but we gathered that fear of coming disturbance was the cause of his abrupt resolve.
“Eh, Mr. Pearson—eh, Edward man, but it’s an unchancy sign for a house when the rats rin from it,” said Mr. Murray, dryly, when the steward was gone, adding: “I’d like to spend my last days at home myself, nae doubt, and hope to do so yet, for we foreigners take no root in the Russian soil; but I’ve eaten Prince Emindoff’s bread ower long to desert him now. I’ll stay as long as I’m useful, though the mill just pays its way, and no more.”
As I looked from my bedroom window that night, I happened to observe something like a dark cluster of men under the park wall holding a stealthy, but excited conference, if I might judge by the violent gestures of one of them, a tall peasant, who stood out in the bright moonlight, and who seemed the principal speaker. Disturbed by a vague feeling of uneasiness, I called Vaughan, and pointed out this mysterious group.
“It looks suspicious, certainly,” said my friend, “and if I don’t mistake, that tall fellow is Black Ivan, a man of very indifferent character, lately discharged from the imperial guard. Some poaching or hen-roost robbery is a-foot, though, most likely—nothing worse. I’ll speak to the starosta in the morning.”
And in obedience to Vaughan’s summons, next morning, the starosta, or village mayor, a fine, respectable-looking elder, with flowing caftan and long silvery beard, was in attendance. He seemed rather perturbed at hearing that a number of men had been seen lurking about the park, and tried hard to make us believe that we were mistaken, or that if we had seen men at all, and not shadows of the waving fir-trees, they must have been strangers, gipsies, perhaps, or wandering Tartars, a party of whom had been recently seen there on their way back from the fair at Minsk. As for Black Ivan, the starosta assured us that he was quite a reformed character, and had been asleep in his hovel hours before the time we named.
The wedding-day had come, but disappointment came along with it. The clergyman who was to perform the ceremony, and who was chaplain at Riga, had agreed to stop at Batschuvatz for this purpose, on his way back from Moscow, whither he had gone by way of Archangel and St. Petersburg, in the course of a summer tour. But a letter announced that he was unavoidably detained, and could not possibly reach the Emindoff estate before the next day. It was necessary, therefore, to postpone the marriage, and it is hardly wonderful if Vaughan, generally the best-tempered fellow in the world, became testy and out of humour, insomuch that I was thrown very much on my own resources for amusement. I think it was not quite noon, when Paul Gregovitch, the young forester I have mentioned as having a regard for me, came to me with a face of great importance.
“Did not my Excellency wish to kill a bear? very well—then there was a capital chance.”
And he went on to tell me that a remarkably fine bear had been discovered, a few miles off, robbing the melon patch of a peasant of Paul’s acquaintance, that its lair in the wood was known, and that, if I liked, he, Paul, was ready, to guide me to the presence of the shaggy monster.
This news produced its effect. I had a great wish to be the triumphant possessor of a bearskin honestly won by my own prowess: the time hung heavily on my hands, and such a chance might never again occur. I readily consented, and by Paul’s suggestion I said nothing to my friends of the adventure in prospect, intending to surprise them by my return with an unmistakeable trophy of my abilities as a sportsman. To say the truth, Vaughan and I had both of us been the subjects of some dry, but good-humoured quizzing on Mr. Murray’s part, on the score of our lack of wood-craft. We were eager enough, and could both of
