3. Little Maroussia

The man laid his hand on the child’s head, gently stroking her hair, as if to say: “Be calm, my little child.” He was strength, skill, intrepidity, and boldness; but at this moment, in the presence of this trembling bird, a divine light of goodness spread over his manly face. His powerful hand, accustomed to murderous arms and the rude weapons of war, became gentler than that of a mother for Maroussia, he answered her look with a glance full of tenderness. Confidence was established between them. Maroussia spoke: “The river will not take you to Tchigurine. It is to Tchigurine that you desire to go. I have thought of a way of going there.”

“I am listening to you, my child,” answered the fugitive.

“Let us first go near the old wall, it will conceal us.”

When near the old wall, she said:

“Over there, far off in the steppe, my father has a little cabin, a stable, where he leaves the big oxen in summer during harvest time, so as not to bring them back to the house every night. A large wagon, loaded with hay, is before the door, which is to be taken away tomorrow by my father. The oxen are in the stable waiting for daybreak. We will set out, you and I, in .an hour. Then I will yoke, we will yoke the big oxen; you can hide yourself in the hay, and I will take you first to Knich’s house. Knich is a friend of my father and of all his friends. He comes to our house, and when he comes, he talks with the others. I can tell him everything, or, if you do not wish it, I will say nothing to him, but I will try to do—to do—” She stopped, hesitating, for she knew not what would be best to decide on this point. Nevertheless, she continued:

“I will do what you tell me. Oh! I will do everything!”

While listening to her, the eyes of the strong man became moist.

“Who gave you this idea, Maroussia?” he asked her.