Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1875-10-22
A Dead Man..-A Russian Story.
From M2cmilianis Magazine.

A Dead Man..-A Russian Story.
From Macmillan's Magazine
1t was just before the opening of the rail-
way from Taganrog TO kharkUf IN 1869 and
| was driving those weary distances in au-
tumn. For the first two days and nights
the weather was lovely, bat on the third
morning, soon after sunrise, the sky became
covered with heavy, torn, and jagged clouds,
a northerly wind arose, and with thunder,
lightning, cold gale, and snow, the winter
burst on US as it yearly breaks on Southern
Russia. In half an hour the rich, black
rolling plains had become an ocean of lakey
mud, and we reached the post station Of
Donski only to find the order" Impossible
to proceed"
called for tea, and the samovar was
brought in by fine, upright, gray-bearded
man, whom, from his black velvet tunic
and slashed sleeves, took to be the Post
master himself. He was followed into the
room BY noble looking Cossack woman Of
his own age, who said, - Little husband,
why dom; you ask the lord if he will eat
partridge and bit Of bread? The kuruss
patka is plump, and the day will be long
before his troika can be harnessed to face
the storm" She smiled sweetly as she
spoke-he smiled lovingly upon her then
she left us, looking lingeringly back.
" Your wiie's in love with you still, and
you with her, Postmaster, said. g You
must have beaten her well when she was
young for her to love you so. How long
since you were married." " am sixty"
he replied 81 was married at twenty-five,
thirty-hve years ago-fue years before
died" g What ?" said l. - Five years be-
fore my death. Is it possible you don't
know my story? You must have come
from long way of, for | have heard that
1t is told even upon the Azof'
And throwing his legs across a chair,
without more ado, he spoke thus
- was born in 1909, and can remember
the return from Paris Of my father and
uncle-Cossacks of the Don Those were
grand days, when every Cossack was an
officer by birth. and when the Hetman Pla-
tut was King of Europe, conqueror of the
Turks and of the French, and friend and
equal Of the white Tsar. Now, this Peters
burg Tsar says that we're no better than his
| Great-Russian slaves, and for wears my
sabre and long pistol have hung upon the
wall unused and when | have worn nv
red-banded cap and red-striped breeehes
I've always hid as much as could OF the
stripe in my boots, for I'm ashamed of it
now and they're even going to take away
our privilege OF the supply of salt.
. In 1884, as young Postmaster, for my
father was dead, with good place and
handsome beard, was the best match in
the two-ehurch villages round. | could
pick my wife, and | chose Olga, that you
saw Just now
=" There said l.
" All, wait and see Wait, little lord
Don't be impatient. Olga was as lovely as
she was good. You have seen her in her
sixtieih year her goodness is what it was,
and, though may be an unsafe Judge, her
beauty, think, is not yet gone.
He looked at me. | nodded.
- We were happy at first, but | was
young. | felt the chain. | was faithful to
her, as far as women went, but not kind.
| We had no children. One day in 1899 she
was in low spirits about me, and threw her
arms upon a sudden around my neck, with
Do you really love me, little John? p You
know | do But not as love you At
that very moment, little lord, the devil must
have been unclaimed from hell. To tell you
what thoughts flashed in an instant through
my mad mind would be impossible. That
what she said WAS true That while did
love her in kind of way, | was bound to
her for life whether | would or no. la a fit
| of wild rage | smote her one short, smart
blow. She looked at me with despair in her
eyes, and walked slowly into our other
room. ran into the stable yard. IIar-
ness trolka, said | to the starosta. |
leave at once for Kharkot with dispatches
that the Courier dropped, and that l have
found upon the floor. Quick quick the
best courier horses In an instant they
were ready. Merrily jingled the bells in
the crisp air. Paul took the reins aud off |
whirled. In twenty hours | was at Khar-
kof To my friend the staosta at the great
Kharkof station, who was equal in rank
and pay to most Postmasters themselves,
said Do me q service, little friend, as
would do one for you. am going to leave
my wife to whom have been unkind, and
am going to enlist in the guards. But |
wish her to forget me, and she must think
me dead. Write to her in week and tell
her that was taken with the cholera and
died. Beg her to forgive me for nv un-
kindness say that | was grateful fJr her
love, and that it was my last wish that she
would marry again some lad more worthy
of her than myself Make interest to have
the station continued to her as Postmistress
She was priests daughter and can write.
We crossed ourselves, he swore, We bowed
to the image is the corner of the stable, we
kissed, and in five minutes | was gone. At
the recruiting office enlisted for the En-
press regiment of cuirassers of the guard,
as fourteen years volunteer and in fllse
name. I'D Of course no papers, but they
asked no questions, for | was fine recruit
My beard was shaved, my hair was cut, and
when l got TO Petersburg and was fitted
with my uniform and eagle-crowned helmet
no one would have known me. | rose to be
sergeant and second ridingmaster From
your padarojna | see that you are English.
| Now, in 1856, when | had served my time,
there were rumors of war in Turkey against
you, and tempting offers were held out to
me to stop and drill the new recruits. But
| was wretched, and homesickness drove
me south, though if found My wife dead
or married again | intended to kill myself.
Petersburg is not place for Cossacks either.
! By brooding over the past bad become
madly in love with nv wife. 1t was no use
for me to tell myself that had left her well
of that she was married again and happy
that she was forty-four and fat or else,
perhaps scarecrow. | was madly in love,
got my discharge and pension papers and
started south. At kharkof my friend was
dead What if she too were dead ?'Who
keeps the Douski post-station nowT |
murmured, crossing myself the while under
| my long coat The widow A widow
that has kept it fourteen yearsY The
same. In eighteen hours | was there. l
recognized two of the old men, but they not
me. | rushed into the house. She was ut
her day-book reading, not changed. Only
graver, and with silver in her black hair.
My own little Olga in the best style of old
days She did not turn to look at nc, but
threw up her arms and fell forward on the
table. rushed to her and felt her heart,
with mine too, almost ceasing to beat. 10
moment she came 10 herself-our lips fast
glued together This was in 1858. This is
1869. Sixteen years gone like a day. We
have made up for the past, little lord.
60 Bat would you believe it? That wretch
ed Government at Petersburgh insists that
am dead, and that the Douski station is kept
by my window. Or else they say the cuiras-
sier riding-master must be dead, and with
him bis pension. My widow accepts the
situation with smile, for our neighbors all
know better than to believe the Government,
bat she keeps the books, signs the receipts
and pays the taxes. draw my pension in
nv cuirassier name. A great Petersburg
noble who was passing here last week, told
me he didn't believe a word of my story.
but that the Postmistress and were quite
in the fashion, What did he mean p
A negro being ask what be was in jail
for. aid it was for borrowing money.
But" said the questiouer, they don't
put people in jail for borrowing money. -
"Yes, said the darkey, 'but l had to
knock the man down free or To- times before
he would lend it to me