13. They Approach Tchigurine

The great Ataman arose, and, taking a magnificent mantle from its hook, threw it to Tchetchevik; a splendid Persian carpet covered a bench, he showed it to his guest. Tchetchevik prepared a bed in a moment, then lifting the tired little girl in his arms, he put her on it, and covered her with a mother’s tenderness.

“Deaf and dumb,” he said to her, kissing her on the forehead.

The bed was in a corner of the room. Covered by the rich mantle, the child’s eyes in spite of herself were fastened on the Envoy and the Great Ataman, seated at a table opposite each other, with a lamp between which lighted up both their faces. What a man her good friend was! How noble! How strong! Her little heart was full of pride while looking at him.

But the other, the great Ataman! She trembled with fear when she saw those deeply buried eyes, burning with a somber fire, those heavy eyebrows, those premature wrinkles which furrowed his proud, noble forehead. This young, old man seemed to be consumed by an inward fire, which burned without ceasing day and night.

They talked quietly in a low voice.

Maroussia heard the murmur of conversation a long time, as one hears the distant noise of the waves. At last, weariness triumphed over the little girl, her eyes closed like the petals of a flower, she slept, she had become truly “deaf and dumb.”