prepared on the gallows, before all the world, and in the first heat of
my indignation, appeared to me a useless piece of bravado. I knew not
what to say.

Pugatchéf awaited my reply in fierce silence. At last (and I yet recall
that moment with satisfaction) the feeling of duty triumphed in me over
human weakness, and I made reply to Pugatchéf--

"Just listen, and I will tell you the whole truth. You shall be judge.
Can I recognize in you a Tzar? You are a clever man; you would see
directly that I was lying."

"Who, then, am I, according to you?"

"God alone knows; but whoever you be, you are playing a dangerous game."

Pugatchéf cast at me a quick, keen glance.

"You do not then think that I am the Tzar Peter? Well, so let it be. Is
there no chance of success for the bold? In former times did not
Grischka Otrépieff[59] reign? Think of me as you please, but do not
leave me. What does it matter to you whether it be one or the other? He
who is pope is father. Serve me faithfully, and I will make you a
field-marshal and a prince. What do you say to this?"

"No," I replied, firmly. "I am a gentleman. I have sworn fidelity to Her
Majesty the Tzarina; I cannot serve you. If you really wish me well,
send me back to Orenburg."

Pugatchéf reflected.