Short Fiction by Xavier de Maistre (digital e reader txt) 📕

a child when she arrived in Siberia; and having never known a more comfortable life, she gave herself up most cheerfully to continual labour, though it often exceeded her physical strength. Her delicate hands seemed destined for different occupations. Her mother, whose whole time was occupied in the management of her poor household, seemed to bear patiently her deplorable situation: but her father, who had been from his youth accustomed to the active life of a soldier, had never learnt to resign himself to his fate, and often yielded to a despondency and despair, which no misfortune, however great, can excuse. Although he endeavoured to conceal from Prascovia, the grief which preyed upon his mind, she had been too often, either by accident or through her attention to all that concerned him, a secret witness of his dejection, not to reflect on the cruel situation of her parents, long before they imagined that she was aware of their sufferings.

The Governor of Siberia had never replied to the supplications which Lopouloff had addressed to him from time to time: an officer, however, having passed, with despatches, through Ischim, and having promised him, not only to deliver to the Governor his letters, but to second his requests, the unfortunate exile entertained for a while, some hopes of liberty or relief. But the few travellers and messengers that arrived from Tobolsk, added only disappointments to actual and increased sufferings.

It was in one of these distressing moments that Prascovia, on her return from her labours in the fields, found her mother bathed in tears, and was alarmed by the mortal paleness and the bewildered looks of her father, “There you see,” exclaimed he, when she entered this abode of sorrow, “the object of my greatest grief: this is the child whom Providence has given me in its wrath, to increase my sufferings by hers, to make me witness of her gradual decay, when wasted by incessant toil, so that the name of father, which is a blessing to all others, is to me the strongest proof of Heaven’s malediction.” Poor Prascovia, frightened to death, clung to his knees, and, with the assistance of her mother and by their united entreaties, Lopouloff recovered gradually his self-possession: but this scene had made a strong impression upon her mind. Her parents had, for the first time, openly spoken in her presence of their hopeless situation, and for the first time she had been permitted to sympathise in their sorrows. She was then only fifteen years of age, and at that time, the idea of endeavouring to obtain her father’s pardon, entered her mind; or, according to her own account, one day when she had been praying, “it crossed her like lightning, and caused in her an unspeakable emotion.” She was persuaded that it was an inspiration of Providence, and this belief supported her under the most trying circumstances.

The hope of pardon and of liberty had never before cheered her heart. It filled her now with delight. She threw herself anew on her knees and prayed with fervour: but her imagination was so disquieted, that she knew not exactly what she should implore from the Divine mercy, all the ordinary train of her ideas being lost, in the nameless joy she experienced. Soon, however, the resolution of going to St. Petersburg, with the purpose of throwing herself at the Emperor’s feet, to obtain her father’s liberty, grew more and more distinct in her mind, and became the prevailirg subject of her thoughts.

She had long since resorted to a favourite place, on the skirts of a neighbouring wood, where she loved to pray; but now she visited it oftener than ever. Occupied exclusively with her great project, she implored Heaven with all the ardour of her soul, to favour, to protect it, and to give her sufficient fortitude and means to accomplish it. She was, therefore, often somewhat negligent in her usual occupations, and was upbraided by her parents. For a long time she did not dare to disclose to them the enterprise she meditated. Her courage failed her, whenever she attempted an explanation, in which she could discern little probability of success. But when she became convinced that she had sufficiently matured her design, she fixed a day when she should disclose it to her parents, firmly resolved to overcome, on that occasion, her natural timidity.

On that day, Prascovia went, early in the morning, to the forest, to implore from heaven that courage and eloquence which she deemed necessary to convince her parents. She returned home afterwards, with no other uncertainty, but to which of her parents she was about to reveal her project. The first she should meet, was to be her confidant: she rather hoped to meet her mother, on whose indulgence she trusted the most. But when she approached the house, she saw her father seated on a bench before the door, smoking his pipe. She addressed him with great courage, explained, in part, her views, and solicited, with all the eloquence which she could command, permission to depart for the metropolis. When she had concluded, her father, who had not interrupted her speech, took her hand with great gravity, and entering with her into the room, where his wife was preparing dinner, he exclaimed: “My wife, good news! we have a powerful protector! Prascovia is on her way to St. Petersburg, and is good enough to promise to intercede in our behalf with the Emperor!” Lopouloff repeated, in a tone of irony, his whole conversation with his daughter.

“She would do better,” said her mother, “to mind her business, instead of dreaming of such follies.” The poor girl had mustered courage against the anger of her parents, but she was unprepared to see her hopes brought to the test of ridicule and irony. She wept bitterly. The gay humour which her father had indulged for a moment, gave way to his usual austerity; but, while he reproved her for weeping, her mother caught her to her bosom,