short, thin, and bent; but his narrow eyes sparkled like fire.
"Ah! ha!" said the commandant, having by these dreadful indications recognized one of the rebels who had been punished in 1741, "I see thou art an old wolf, who hast already been taken in our traps. It is not the first time thou playest the rebel, or thy head would not be so well shaven. Come nearer; speak; who sent thee?"
The old Bashkir remained silent and looked at the commandant with a vacant stare.
"Why dost thou not speak?" continued Ivan Kouzmitch. "Dost thou not understand Russian? Youlaï, ask him in your language, who sent him into our fortress?"
Youlaï repeated the question in Tartar. But the Bashkir looked at him with the same expression, not saying a word in reply.
"Yakshee!"[1] said the commandant. "I shall make thee speak. Take off his fool's striped dressing-gown and pink his back. Youlaï, see that it is properly done."
Two invalids proceeded to strip the Bashkir. The unhappy man's face assumed an expression of anxiety. He looked about him like a poor little animal just caught by children. But when one of the invalids seized his hands, and putting them round his neck, lifted the old man on to his shoulders, and Youlaï took the lash and raised it then the Bashkir groaned in a feeble supplicating tone,
- ↑ Tartar for good.—Tr.
