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RUSSIAN ROMANCE.

ing her to Savelitch, and giving her a letter to my parents. Maria Ivanovna burst out crying:—

"Good-bye, Piotr Andrevitch," said she in a low voice. "God alone knows whether we shall meet again, but I shall never forget you; thou alone shalt live in my heart to my dying hour."

I was not able to say anything. We were surrounded by people. I wished to avoid giving way, in their presence, to the feelings by which I was agitated. At last she was gone. I returned to Zourine, sad and silent. He tried to cheer me up, and I endeavoured to divert my thoughts. We spent the day noisily and in feasting, and in the evening we marched out.

We had got to the end of February. Winter, which had impeded military movements, was drawing to its close, and our generals were preparing for concerted action. Pougatcheff was still under the walls of Orenburg. But our forces were uniting and drawing near the robber's lair on all sides. Insurgent villages surrendered upon sight of our troops; the villain's bands were everywhere flying before us, and everything foretold a speedy and successful termination of the revolt.

Shortly after this, Prince Galitzin beat Pougatcheff, who had advanced upon the fortress of Tatishscheff, dispersed his troops, relieved Orenburg, and to all appearances struck the final and decisive blow. Zourine had been detached and sent against a band of rebel Bashkirs, who had however dispersed before we got up with them. Spring overtook us whilst we were in a small Tartar village. The rivers overflowed, and the roads became