The Kurbatof mansion lay in a suburb of the city: it was a large wooden house, horse-shoe shaped, like most of the houses of the richer inhabitants in the outskirts of Moscow. There was a gardener’s room or hut at the great gate, and because it would be difficult to watch Vera’s home from the street, since there was no house opposite, and only a road deep in filth, without pavement to stand upon or any place behind in which to shelter oneself, I thought it better to make a friend, if I could, of the gardener or his wife—for the whole family of brats as well as their parents herded in the little hut at the gate, the atmosphere of which, within doors, was terrible to a Cossack nose and lungs, accustomed to the fresh air and much exposure.

I therefore provided myself with prÄnniki for the children and presented myself at the gate at dusk. The good folks bowed low as to a Barin, and were for opening the great gate to let me in; but I informed them, to their surprise, that I only desired to see the Barishnya Vera when she should pass this way upon her morning walk. My mission, I said, was so private that I dare not go to the house to see her. ‘You will find, when the Barishnya sets eyes upon me, that I am a welcome guest!’ I added, smiling. ‘I desire her no harm, nor yet anyone, unless it be her enemies.’

The man scratched his head.

‘Are you known to the Boyar?’ he asked.

‘I am known to the Boyar,’ I replied, ‘and I have, moreover, for those who serve me kindly—this!’

I showed a silver rouble, at which he looked greedily.

‘And who are these enemies the Barin speaks of?’ the man asked cautiously. ‘Can so beautiful, so adorable a Barishnya have enemies?’

‘You will see, if you allow me to abide a while here, that she both has enemies and that if necessary her friends—as myself—should be constantly on the watch at this time, lest they do her an injury.’

‘Do her an injury?’ squealed the gardener’s wife with fury. ‘The rascals! The villains! Would you have her enemies do our Barishnya an injury, Vaiseuk? Let this Barin do as he desires, I say; he will put her upon her guard. Take the rouble and let him come in!’

‘Peace, Masha, fool!’ said Vaiseuk. ‘Well, give me the rouble,’ he continued, holding out his hand. ‘The Barishnya shall see you from a safe distance as she passes out, and we shall soon know if you are friend or enemy!’

Thus I was able to take up the best of positions, and old Vaiseuk was soon justified in his confidence in me; for when Vera passed out and caught sight of me, she gave an exclamation of such joyful surprise that he quickly found I was indeed the friend I had declared myself.

‘You see I am here, Vera, and here shall remain until you tell me I need watch no longer,’ I said. ‘Tell my good friend Vaiseuk to let me be his guest and to keep his mouth shut.’

Vera joyfully did so. ‘This is my best of friends,’ she explained, ‘who has saved me from much misery already, and is now busy in my service.’

‘Dooshinka,’ exclaimed the man’s wife, ‘what enemies can you have? Do not all people love you?’

‘Perhaps some whom she would rather unlove her, Matushka,’ I laughed. ‘Some there are who love her so well that they would carry her from her home!’

‘Oh, oh!’ said the old woman. ‘Save her from such, Barin, and all the saints will bless you!’

Thus I was established in my watch tower, and there for two whole days and nights I lived, and a third day, and during all that time, though many visitors came and went, I never saw Mazeppa.

‘Which means this,’ thought I: ‘he has given up hope of the fair means, and will trust to the foul to effect his purpose, which of course is the stealing of Vera!’ And, sure enough, on the evening of the third day I saw Mazeppa. He came at dusk, and stayed but a few moments at the house; then he returned and departed as stealthily as he had come.

Now I must watch indeed, thought I, for it may well be he came to make his final arrangements, having friends or a friend within who will carry out his designs, whatsoever they may be!

And when night fell, and the gardener and his family snored in concert, I heard the rumble of some kind of light dormÉse or travelling carriage in the road without. The horses pulled up within twenty paces of the great gates and there remained, impatiently pawing the mud, shaking themselves, and making the usual noises of waiting horses.

No man spoke, excepting occasionally to utter a curse or a word when one of the animals became fidgety. This was not Mazeppa’s voice; if he was there he remained silent.

Half an hour passed, and another half, and at last I heard stealthy sounds from the direction of the house. A door was softly opened, and steps came towards the gate. Then in the dim light of the stars I perceived two men carrying a burden; but since neither sound nor movement came from it, this could not be Vera nor any other living being; therefore, I thought, I must be mistaken by a coincidence, for some thief or thieves within the household have chosen this night for carrying away some of the Boyar’s property—a matter which concerns me not at all so long as it be not his daughter.

I crept softly from the hut, keeping in the shadow, and watched the two fellows place their bundle within the carriage that awaited them. In this carriage there was but one man besides the driver: this fellow received their burden from the other two, who then returned to the house. The driver shook his reins and the horses started.

A common piece of night stealing and no more, and I had hoped for Heaven knows what to happen—something by which I might exalt myself and abase Mazeppa, and at the same time add another point to my credit with the fair Vera, with whom I must stand ever higher and higher and Mazeppa lower and lower.

Then this thought suddenly occurred to me: What if the fox Mazeppa should have arranged this matter after some devil’s way of his own devising? If this burden should, after all, be Vera herself, gagged or drugged, or what not—and he, not desiring to run into danger himself, be waiting somewhere to join the party, once the danger is over!

And now that this idea had entered my brain it speedily overmastered every other thought.

Fool that I had been to be so easily gulled, and faithless watchman! Oh! if Mazeppa had bettered me and had indeed carried Vera away!

The rumble of the carriage wheels was still audible, though now at some distance away; at any rate, I might follow and note, at least, which road was taken from the city; then I could run for my horse and pursue.

So off went I down the road at full run, and, going as I was at full speed, I gained upon the horses, as I could tell by the sound.

Suddenly the rumble ceased—they had stopped; they were about, I guessed, to pick up Mazeppa, who waited in safety while others undertook the dangerous portion of his enterprise—the fox! If only I could overtake the carriage before it recommenced its journey! I made desperate efforts. I rushed into the street called Troitsky just in time to come close to a large dormÉse as the wheels began to move and the horses to strain at the traces.

I almost shrieked aloud in Mazeppa’s name to stop, but remembered in time that would be a false move; for assuredly, if he should hear me call to him, he would drive the faster.

But I was in desperate straits, for my breath was almost spent, and, though I followed still, I felt not only that I lost ground, but that I must soon cease to move even as rapidly as now, for I was utterly exhausted.