Dubrovsky
A feud between nobles, a son's revenge, and a love that came too late.
Page 1
Kirila Troyekurov, a rich and powerful nobleman, loved to show off his estate. His only true friend, the poorer Andrei Dubrovsky, was as proud as Troyekurov was arrogant. One day, Troyekurov led Dubrovsky to his magnificent stone kennels. "Well, brother?" Troyekurov boomed. "Do you think my dogs live well?" As they admired the five hundred hounds, a kennel-keeper bowed low. "Your Excellency," the man said with a smirk, "our dogs are better off than some of the gentlemen who visit you." The insult was aimed at the proud, poor Dubrovsky. He turned pale. "The servant must be punished, or I leave and never return," he said, his voice tight. Troyekurov, amused, refused. Dubrovsky mounted his horse and rode away without another word. The friendship was broken.
Page 2
Troyekurov's revenge was swift. He used false documents to claim that Andrei Dubrovsky's estate, Kistenevka, belonged to him. The court was a sham. The judges, bribed and terrified, sat in their robes and listened to lies. Andrei Dubrovsky stood before them, stunned. "It is a righteous claim," Troyekurov announced to the room. "I only ask for what is mine." The chief judge cleared his throat and read out the verdict. "The court has decided! The estate of Kistenevka belongs to General Troyekurov!" A murmur ran through the crowd. Andrei stared, uncomprehending. "What?" he cried, his voice a hoarse whisper. "My home? Impossible!" Something inside him snapped. He began to laugh, a wild, terrible sound that echoed through the silent courtroom. He had lost his home, his honor, and now, his mind.
Page 3
Vladimir Dubrovsky raced home from St. Petersburg to find his estate in mourning. His father sat on the porch of their old wooden house, a ghost of the man he had been. "Father, I am here!" Vladimir cried, kneeling beside him. The old man did not seem to recognize him. "Hello, Volodya," he whispered at last, his mind wandering. "Is it time to ride?" Just then, a carriage pulled up, and court officials stepped out. "We are here by order of the court," the leader announced coldly, "to take possession for General Troyekurov." At the sight of them, a terrible shudder ran through old Dubrovsky. He looked at his son with a dreadful expression, tried to say something, and then fell back in the chair. He was dead.
Page 4
After the funeral, Vladimir watched the court officials celebrate in his home. He gathered the loyal serfs. "It is over," he told them. "This house will never belong to him." The blacksmith Arkhip stepped forward. "Lead us, Vladimir Andreyevich," he said. "We will follow you to the death." Vladimir nodded. "Then help me. Pile hay against the walls." While the officials slept, he went through the house one last time. Then he took a torch. "From this night forward, you are free," he announced. "But you must follow me." He barred the main doors, locking the officials in. Then he touched the flame to the hay. From the edge of the woods, Vladimir and his people watched the home of his ancestors burn against the night sky, a great pillar of fire and smoke.
Page 5
Months later, at Pokrovskoe, Troyekurov hired a new French tutor, a quiet man named Deforge—Vladimir Dubrovsky in disguise. To test him, Troyekurov played a cruel joke. "Let's see what our Frenchman is made of!" he laughed, having Deforge led to a room. He then pushed a half-starved bear inside and locked the door. Guests gathered to watch. "Are you mad?" Masha cried to her father. "He will be killed!" They heard a snarl, then a single, sharp crack echoed. When the doors were thrown open, the tutor was standing calmly, a small smoking pistol in his hand. The great animal lay still at his feet. "I am accustomed to such encounters," Deforge said quietly, bowing slightly to the stunned onlookers. Troyekurov was speechless. Masha was deeply impressed.
Page 6
As the tutor Deforge, Vladimir won the respect of the household and the heart of Masha. His plans for revenge began to fade. One afternoon, by the gazebo, he confessed everything. "I am not Deforge," he began, his voice low. "My name is Dubrovsky." Masha gasped, her eyes wide with fear and understanding. "I came into this house to destroy your father," he continued, "but I saw you, and I am ruined. I love you more than my revenge." He took her hand and pressed a small gold ring into her palm. "If you are ever in terrible trouble, get this ring to me. Place it in the hollow of the old oak on the Kistenevka road. I will come for you, whatever the cost."
Page 7
A rich, elderly neighbor, Prince Vereisky, came to visit and was charmed by Masha. Troyekurov immediately arranged a marriage. When he announced it, Masha threw herself at his feet. "Papa, I beg you!" she cried. "Do not make me marry him. Have mercy!" Her defiance enraged him. "Silence!" he roared. "You will marry the Prince! It is decided." He grabbed her arm and threw her back into her room. "I would rather die in a convent!" she wept. He slammed the door. "You will stay here until the wedding," he bellowed from the other side, turning the key in the lock. "We will see if bread and water changes your mind!" He made his own daughter a prisoner.
Page 8
On her wedding day, Masha was put into the carriage to be taken to the chapel. As they drove, she scanned the roadside. There, ahead, was the ancient hollow oak Dubrovsky had named. A young boy with red hair was playing nearby. It was her only chance. "Boy, come here!" she called, her voice urgent. The boy ran to the window. "Listen carefully," she whispered, pressing the gold ring into his hand. "Put this in the hollow of that big oak tree. Do you understand?" The boy stared at the ring, then at her pale, desperate face. "If you do this for me, I will reward you for the rest of your life!" He nodded, clutching the ring, and ran towards the tree as the carriage began to move again.
Page 9
The ring was delivered, but too late. The wedding was over. As the carriage returned through the forest, a fallen tree blocked the road. Suddenly, armed men surrounded them. "Villains!" the Prince shouted. "What do you want?" The leader, unmasked, strode to the carriage and tore open the door. It was Vladimir. "You are free," he said, holding out his hand to Masha. "Come with me." The Prince drew a pistol, but it was twisted from his hand. All eyes were on Masha. She looked at Vladimir, tears streaming down her face. "It is too late," she whispered. "I am married. I have made my vows to God. I cannot break them. Let me go." Vladimir stared, his face ashen. He motioned to his men, and they vanished back into the forest.
Page 10
After Masha's refusal, Dubrovsky's last hope was gone. He left the country forever. Soon after, soldiers crushed his band of outlaws. "The rebellion was over," the official reports stated. "All was quiet in the district once more." Kirila Troyekurov lived on in his great house, but was a broken man, haunted by the ruin he had caused his daughter and his friend. Masha lived unhappily with the old Prince. The feud was over. It had destroyed the guilty and the innocent alike, leaving only silence and sorrow. From the hills, the blackened ruins of Kistenevka stood as a monument to a pointless quarrel, its empty windows staring like hollow eyes. "Vladimir Dubrovsky was never seen in Russia again."
About this story
- Audience: general readers
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