The bandit's question and impudence made me smile.
"Why do you laugh?" said he, frowning, "do you not believe that I am the great Czar? Answer frankly."
I was troubled. I could not recognize a vagabond as the emperor; to call him an impostor to his face was to doom myself to death; and the sacrifice which I was ready to make under the gibbet that morning, before all the people, in the first flush of indignation, seemed now a useless bravado. Pougatcheff awaited my answer in fierce silence. At last (I still remember with satisfaction that duty triumphed over human weakness) I replied to Pougatcheff.
"I will tell you the truth and let you decide. Should I recognize you as the Czar, as you are a man of intelligence, you would see that I am lying."
"Then who am I? in your opinion."
"God knows, but whoever you are, you are playing a dangerous game."
Pougatcheff gave me a sharp, quick glance. "You do not believe that I am the emperor, Peter III? Be it so. Have not bold men succeeded before me and obtained the crown? Think what you please about me, but stay with me. What matters it whom you serve? Success is right. Serve under me, and I will make you a field-marshal, a prince. What say you?"
"No," said I. "I am a nobleman. I have taken an oath to her majesty, the Empress; I can not serve with you. If truly you wish me well, send me to Orenbourg."
Pougatcheff reflected. "If I send you there, you will, at least, promise not to bear arms against me?"
"How can I promise that? If I am ordered to march against you, I must go. You are now a chief; you desire your subordinates to obey you. No, my life is in your hand; if you give me liberty, thanks; if you put me to death, may God judge you."
My frankness pleased him. "Be it so," said he, slapping me on the shoulders, "pardon or punish to the end. You can go the four quarters of the world, and do as you like. Come tomorrow, and bid me good-bye. Now go to bed--I require rest myself."
I went out into the street. The night was clear and cold; the moon and stars shone out in all their brightness, lighting up the square and the gibbet. All was quiet and dark in the rest of the fortress. At the inn some lights were visible, and belated drinkers broke the stillness by their shouts. I glanced at Accoulina's house; the doors and windows were closed, and all seemed perfectly quiet there. I went to my room, and found Saveliitch deploring my absence. I told him of my freedom. "Thanks to thee, O God!" said he, making the sign of the cross; "tomorrow we shall set out at daybreak. I have prepared something for you; eat and then sleep till morning, tranquil as if in the bosom of the Good Shepherd."