Solution Manual for An Introduction to

Mechanical Engineering 3rd Edition by Wickert

download

http://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-an-
introduction-to-mechanical-engineering-3rd-edition-by-wickert/
TestBankBell.com: Your Ultimate Source for Test Banks and Academic Resources

TestBankBell.com is a leading online platform offering instant access to a wide

variety of test banks and academic resources. Whether you're a student, educator, or
professional, we provide the tools and materials you need to excel in your studies and
career. Our website features test banks for textbooks across multiple disciplines,
offering comprehensive solutions to enhance your learning experience.

Keywords:
test bank, academic resources, study guides, test preparation, testbankbell, download test
bank, textbook solutions

Contact Information:
Visit us at: https://testbankbell.com - For inquiries, email us:
[email protected]

Important Links:
Download Test Banks: https://testbankbell.com/

Copyright © 2025 TestBankBell. All Rights Reserved.

 Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) ready for you
Download now and discover formats that fit your needs...

Start reading on any device today!

Solution Manual for An Introduction to Mechanical

Engineering 4th Edition

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-an-introduction-
to-mechanical-engineering-4th-edition/

testbankbell.com

Solution Manual for Introduction to Engineering

Experimentation 3rd Edition by Wheeler

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-introduction-to-
engineering-experimentation-3rd-edition-by-wheeler/

testbankbell.com

Solution Manual for Introduction to Environmental

Engineering – SI Version, 3rd Edition

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-introduction-to-
environmental-engineering-si-version-3rd-edition/

testbankbell.com

Solution Manual for Materials Science and Engineering An

Introduction 10th by Callister

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-materials-
science-and-engineering-an-introduction-10th-by-callister/

testbankbell.com
Solution Manual for Introduction to Biomedical Engineering
2nd Edition by Domach

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-introduction-to-
biomedical-engineering-2nd-edition-by-domach/

testbankbell.com

An Introduction to Geotechnical Engineering Holtz Kovacs

2nd Edition Solutions Manual

https://testbankbell.com/product/an-introduction-to-geotechnical-
engineering-holtz-kovacs-2nd-edition-solutions-manual/

testbankbell.com

Solution manual for An Introduction to Combustion:Concepts

and Applications Turns 3rd Edition

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-an-introduction-
to-combustionconcepts-and-applications-turns-3rd-edition/

testbankbell.com

Solutions Manual to accompany Introduction to Nuclear

Engineering 3rd edition (Odd-numbered) 9780201824988

https://testbankbell.com/product/solutions-manual-to-accompany-
introduction-to-nuclear-engineering-3rd-edition-odd-
numbered-9780201824988/
testbankbell.com

Solution Manual for Discovering Behavioral Neuroscience An

Introduction to Biological Psychology, 3rd Edition

https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-discovering-
behavioral-neuroscience-an-introduction-to-biological-psychology-3rd-
edition/
testbankbell.com
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

An Introduction to Mechanical
Engineering 3rd

Full chapter download at: https://testbankbell.com/product/solution-manual-for-an-

introduction-to-mechanical-engineering-3rd-edition-by-wickert/

Chapter 2

Solutions

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.1: Give three examples of engineered products that must be circular in shape
and explain why. Any ball is not allowed as an answer!

Examples include:
⋅ DVD’s
⋅ CD’s
⋅ manhole covers
⋅ railroad advance warning signs
⋅ wheel (for flat roads)
⋅ axles
⋅ bullet cross-section (balanced for stable flight)
⋅ European speed limit sign
⋅ any shape with minimized arc length/surface area for given area/volume
⋅ optimized pressure vessel cross sections
⋅ US coin
⋅ lens (part of circle)
⋅ optimal nozzle/diffuser (no edge effects)
⋅ optimal capillary tube
⋅ optimal suction cup
⋅ traffic circle
⋅ thrown pot (on potting wheel)

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.2: Give three examples of engineered products that must be triangular in shape
and explain why.

Examples include:
⋅ yield signs
⋅ the triangle instrument
⋅ billiards rack
⋅ knife blade (cross-section)
⋅ supports for finishing wood (pyramids or cones, must come to a point)
⋅ splitting wedge
⋅ handicap ramp viewed from side (to meet code)
⋅ three equally spaced instances per rotation cam
⋅ 30°-60°-90° or 45°-45°-90° drafting triangle
⋅ one of six identical pieces that can be assembled into a hexagon
⋅ chisel point

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.3: Give three examples of engineered products that must be rectangular in
shape and explain why.

Examples include:
⋅ A size (or any other standard size) sheet of paper
⋅ four equally spaced instances per rotation cam
⋅ football/soccer field (civil engineered)
⋅ US speed limit sign
⋅ US dollar bill

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.4: Give three examples of engineered products that must be green in color.

Examples include
⋅ fake plant/turf (imitate actual plant)
⋅ John Deer product (branding)
⋅ Cameron Compressor (branding)
⋅ Green (traffic) light
⋅ European recycling bin
⋅ Kermit the frog paraphernalia (branding)

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.5: Give three examples of engineered products that must be black in color.

Examples include
⋅ Background for one way signs and night speed limit signs
⋅ theater bins/supports (disappears in dark)
⋅ stealth fighter (better “bounce” characteristics)
⋅ ninja suit (stealth at night)
⋅ black paint
⋅ black ink
⋅ backing for solar water heating
⋅ negative electric cables

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.6: Give three examples of engineered products that must be transparent.

Examples include
⋅ Contact lenses (over pupil portion)
⋅ glasses (spectacles)
⋅ (camera) lens (any tint causes loss of quality/information)
⋅ Microscope slide and slide cover

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Chapter 2: Mechanical Design Chapter 2: Mechanical Design

Problem P2.7: Give three examples of engineered products that have a specific minimum
weight, but no specified maximum weight and specify the approximate minimum weight.

Examples include:
⋅ Helium balloon holder (minimum weight will depend upon how many helium
balloons are being held)
⋅ non-wedge based door stop (minimum weight based on friction coefficient)
⋅ racecar (minimum weight based on racing regulations)
⋅ competition bike (minimum weight based on racing regulations)

© 2013 Cengage Learning. All Rights Reserved. May not be scanned, copied or duplicated, or posted to a publicly accessible website, in whole or in part.
Other documents randomly have
different content
seated himself in the caliche and drove home. All the guests
followed after him.
The rooms began to fill with the visitors; every moment new faces
appeared, and it was with difficulty that the host could be
approached. The ladies sat decorously in a semicircle, dressed in
antiquated fashion, in dresses of faded but expensive material, all
covered with pearls and brilliants. The men crowded round the
caviar[2] and the vodka,[3] conversing among themselves with great
animation. In the dining-room the table was laid for eighty persons;
the servants were bustling about, arranging the bottles and
decanters and adjusting the table-cloths.
At last the house-steward announced that dinner was ready. Kirila
Petrovitch went first and took his seat at the table; the ladies
followed after him, and took their places with an air of great gravity,
observing a sort of precedence as they did so. The young ladies
crowded together like a timid herd of kids, and took their places next
to one another. Opposite to them sat the gentlemen. At the end of
the table sat the tutor by the side of the little Sasha.
The servants began to pass the plates round according to the rank
of the guests; when they were in doubt about the latter point, they
allowed themselves to be guided by instinct, and their guesses were
nearly always correct. The noise of the plates and spoons mingled
with the loud talk of the guests. Kirila Petrovitch looked gaily round
his table and thoroughly enjoyed the happiness of being able to
provide such a hospitable entertainment. At that moment a calèche,
drawn by six horses, drove into the yard.
“Who is that?” asked the host.
“Anton Pafnoutitch,” replied several voices.
The doors opened, and Anton Pafnoutitch Spitsin, a stout man of
about fifty years of age, with a round pockmarked face, adorned
with a treble chin, rolled into the-dining-room, bowing, smiling, and
preparing to make his excuses.
“A cover here!” cried Kirila Petrovitch. “Pray sit down, Anton
Pafnoutitch, and tell us what this means: you were not at my mass,
and you are late for dinner. This is not like you. You are devout, and
you love good cheer.”
“Pardon me,” replied Anton Pafnoutitch, fastening his serviette in the
button-hole of his coat: “pardon me, little father Kirila Petrovitch, I
started early on my journey, but I had not gone ten versts, when
suddenly the tire of the front wheel snapped in two. What was to be
done? Fortunately it was not far from the village. But by the time we
had arrived there, and had found a blacksmith, and had got
everything put to rights, three hours had elapsed. It could not be
helped. To take the shortest route through the wood of Kistenevka, I
did not dare, so we came the longest way round.”
“Ah, ah!” interrupted Kirila Petrovitch, “it is evident that you do not
belong to the brave ten. What are you afraid of?”
“How, what am I afraid of, little father Kirila Petrovitch? And
Doubrovsky? I might have fallen into his clutches. He is a young
man who never misses his aim—he lets nobody off; and I am afraid
he would have flayed me twice over, had he got hold of me.”
“Why, brother, such a distinction?”
“Why, father Kirila Petrovitch? Have you forgotten the lawsuit of the
late Andrei Gavrilovitch? Was it not I who, to please you, that is to
say, according to conscience and justice, showed that Doubrovsky
held possession of Kistenevka without having any right to it, and
solely through your condescension; and did not the deceased—God
rest his soul!—vow that he would settle with me in his own way, and
might not the son keep his father’s word? Hitherto the Lord has been
merciful to me. Up to the present they have only plundered one of
my barns, but one of these days they may find their way to the
manor-house.”
“Where they would find a rich booty,” observed Kirila Petrovitch: “I
have no doubt that the little red cash-box is as full as it can be.”
“Not so, father Kirila Petrovitch; there was a time when it was full,
but now it is perfectly empty.”
“Don’t tell lies, Anton Pafnoutitch. We know you. Where do you
spend money? At home you live like a pig, you never receive
anybody, and you fleece your peasants. You do nothing with your
money but hoard it up.”
“You are only joking, father Kirila Petrovitch,” murmured Anton
Pafnoutitch, smiling; “but I swear to you that we are ruined,” and
Anton Pafnoutitch swallowed his host’s joke with a greasy piece of
fish pasty.
Kirila Petrovitch left him and turned to the new sheriff, who was his
guest for the first time and who was sitting at the other end of the
table, near the tutor.
“Well, Mr. Sheriff, give us a proof of your cleverness: catch
Doubrovsky for us.”
The sheriff looked disconcerted, bowed, smiled, stammered, and
said at last:
“We will try, Your Excellency.”
“H’m! ‘we will try!’ You have been trying for a long time to rid our
country of brigands. Nobody knows how to set about the business.
And, after all, why try to catch him? Doubrovsky’s robberies are a
blessing to the sheriffs: what with investigations, travelling
expenses, and the money they put into their pockets. He will never
be caught Why should such a benefactor be put down? Isn’t that
true, Mr. Sheriff?”
“Perfectly true, Your Excellency,” replied the completely confused
sheriff.
The guests roared with laughter.
“I like the fellow for his frankness,” said Kirila Petrovitch: “but it is a
pity that our late sheriff is no longer with us. If he had not been
burnt, the neighbourhood would have been quieter. And what news
of Doubrovsky? Where was he last seen?”
“At my house, Kirila Petrovitch,” said a female voice: “last Tuesday
he dined with me.”
All eyes were turned towards Anna Savishna Globova, a very simple
widow, beloved by everybody for her kind and cheerful disposition.
Everyone prepared to listen to her story with the deepest interest.
“You must know that three weeks ago I sent my steward to the post
with a letter for my Vaniusha.[4] I do not spoil my son, and
moreover I haven’t the means of spoiling him, even if I wished to do
so. However, you know very well that an officer of the Guards must
live in a suitable style, and I share my income with Vaniusha as well
as I can. Well, I sent two thousand roubles to him; and although the
thought of Doubrovsky came more than once into my mind, I
thought to myself: the town is not far off—only seven, versts
altogether, perhaps God will order all things for the best. But what
happens? In the evening my steward returns, pale, tattered, and on
foot. ‘What is the matter? What has happened to you?’ I exclaimed.
‘Little mother Anna Savishna,’ he replied, ‘the brigands have robbed
and almost killed me. Doubrovsky himself was there, and he wanted
to hang me, but he afterwards had pity upon me and let me go. But
he plundered me of everything—money, horse, and cart,’ A faintness
came over me. Heavenly Lord! What will become of my Vaniusha?
There was nothing to be done. I wrote a fresh letter, telling him all
that had happened, and sent him my blessing without a farthing of
money. One week passed, and then another. Suddenly, one day, a
calèche drove into my courtyard. Some general asked to see me: I
gave orders for him to be shown in. He entered the room, and I saw
before me a man of about thirty-five years of age, dark, with black
hair, moustache and beard—the exact portrait of Koulneff. He
introduced himself to me as a friend and comrade of my late
husband, Ivan Andreivitch. He happened to be passing by, and he
could not resist paying a visit to his old friend’s widow, knowing that
I lived there. I invited him to dine, and I set before him what God
had sent me. We spoke of this and that, and at last we began to talk
about Doubrovsky. I told him of my trouble. My general frowned.
‘That is strange,’ said he: ‘I have heard that Doubrovsky does not
attack everybody, but only people who are well known to be rich,
and that even then he leaves them a part of their possessions and
does not plunder them of everything. As for murdering people,
nobody has yet accused him of that. Is there not some roguery
here? Oblige me by sending for your steward.’
“The steward was sent for, and quickly made his appearance. But as
soon as he caught sight of the general he stood as if petrified.
“‘Tell me, brother, in what manner did Doubrovsky plunder you, and
how was it that he wanted to hang you?’ My steward began to
tremble and fell at the general’s feet.
“‘Little father, I am guilty. The evil one led me astray. I have lied.’
“‘If that is so,’ replied the general, ‘have the goodness to relate to
your mistress how it all happened, and I will listen.’
“My steward could not recover himself.
“‘Well, then,’ continued the general, ‘tell us where you met
Doubrovsky.’
“‘At the two pine trees, little father, at the two pine trees.’
“‘What did he say to you?
“‘He asked me who I was, where I was going, and why.’
“‘Well, and after that?’
“‘After that he demanded the letter and the money from me, and I
gave them to him.’
“‘And he?’
“‘Well, and he ... little father, pardon me!’
“‘Well, what did he do?’
“‘He returned me the money and the letter, and said ‘Go, in the
name of God, and put this in the post.’
“‘Well!’
“‘Little father, pardon me!’
“‘I will settle with you, my pigeon,’ said the general sternly. ‘And you,
madam, order this scoundrel’s trunk to be searched, and then give
him into my hands; I will teach him a lesson.’
“I guessed who his Excellency was, but I did not make any
observation. The coachmen tied the steward to the box of the
calèche; the money was found; the general remained to dine with
me, and departed immediately afterwards, taking with him my
steward. The steward was found the next day in the wood, tied to
an oak, and as ragged as a lime tree.”
Everybody listened in silence to Anna Savishna’s story, especially the
young ladies. Many of them secretly wished well to Doubrovsky,
seeing in him a romantic hero, particularly Maria Kirilovna, an
impulsive, sentimental girl, imbued with the mysterious horrors of
Mrs. Anne Radcliffe.[5]
“And do you think, Anna Savishna, that it was Doubrovsky himself
who visited you?” asked Kirila Petrovitch. “You are very much
mistaken. I do not know who your guest may have been, but I feel
quite sure that it was not Doubrovsky.”
“How, little father, not Doubrovsky? But who is it then, if not he, who
stops travellers on the high road in order to search them?”
“I don’t know; but I feel confident that it is not Doubrovsky. I
remember him as a child; I do, not know whether his hair has
turned black, but at that time he was a curly flaxen-haired boy. But I
do know for a positive fact, that Doubrovsky is five years older than
my Masha, and that consequently he is not thirty-five, but about
twenty-three.”
“Exactly so, Your Excellency,” observed the sheriff: “I have in my
pocket the description of Vladimir Doubrovsky. In that it is distinctly
stated that he is twenty-three years of age.”
“Ah!” said Kirila Petrovitch. “By the way, read it, and we will listen: it
will not be a bad thing for us to know his description. Perhaps he
may fall into our clutches, and if so, he will not escape in a hurry.”
The sheriff drew from his pocket a rather dirty sheet of paper,
unfolded it with an air of great importance, and began to read in a
monotonous tone:
“Description of Doubrovsky, based upon the depositions of his
former servants:
“Twenty-three years of age, medium height, clear complexion,
shaves his beard, has brown eyes, flaxen hair, straight nose. Does
not seem to have any particular marks.”
“And is that all?” said Kirila Petrovitch.
“That is all,” replied the sheriff, folding up the paper.
“I congratulate you, Mr. Sheriff. A very valuable document With that
description it will not be difficult for you to find Doubrovsky! Who is
not of medium height? Who has not flaxen hair, a straight nose and
brown eyes? I would wager that you would talk for three hours at a
stretch to Doubrovsky himself, and you would never guess in whose
company you were. There is no denying that these officials have
wise heads.”
The sheriff, meekly replacing the paper in his pocket, silently busied
himself with his goose and cabbage. Meanwhile the servants had
already gone the round of the guests several times, filling up each
one’s glass. Several bottles of Caucasus wine had been opened with
a great deal of noise, and had been thankfully accepted under the
name of champagne. Faces began to glow, and the conversation
grew louder, more incoherent and more lively.
“No,” continued Kirila Petrovitch, “we shall never see another sheriff
like the late Taras Alexeievitch! He was not the man to be thrown off
the scent very easily. I am very sorry that the fellow was burnt, for
otherwise not one of the band would have got away from him. He
would have laid his hands upon the whole lot of them, and not even
Doubrovsky himself would have escaped. Taras Alexeievitch would
perhaps have taken money from him, but he would not have let him
go. Such was the way of the deceased. Evidently there is nothing
else to be done but for me to take the matter in hand and go after
the brigands with my people. I will begin by sending out twenty men
to scour the wood. My people are not cowards. Each of them would
attack a bear single-handed, and they certainly would not fall back
before a brigand.”
“How is your bear, father Kirila Petrovitch?” asked Anton Pafnoutitch,
being reminded by these words of his shaggy acquaintance and of
certain pleasantries of which he had once been the victim.
“Misha[6] wishes you a long life,[7] replied Karila Petrovitch: “he died
a glorious death at the hands of the enemy. There is his conqueror!”
Kirila Petrovitch pointed to the french tutor. “He has avenged your—
if you will allow me to say so—do you remember?”
“How should I not remember?” said Anton Pafnoutitch, scratching
his head: “I remember it only too well. So Misha is dead. I am very
sorry for Misha—upon my word, I am very sorry! How amusing he
was! How intelligent! You will not find another bear like him. And
why did monsieur kill him?”
Kirila Petrovitch began, with great satisfaction, to relate the exploit
of his Frenchman, for he possessed the happy faculty of boasting of
everything that was about him. The guests listened with great
attention to the story of Misha’s death, and gazed in astonishment at
Desforges, who, not suspecting that his bravery was the subject of
conversation, sat tranquilly in his place, giving advice to his restive
pupil.
The dinner, after lasting about three hours, came to an end; the host
placed his serviette upon the table, and everybody rose and repaired
to the parlour, where awaited them coffee, cards, and a continuation
of the carouse so excellently begun in the dining-room.

[1] At the end of the service in the Russian Church, all the
members of the congregation kiss the crucifix.
[2] The roes of sturgeons prepared and salted.
[3] Brandy.
[4] Diminutive of Ivan.
[5] A now almost forgotten romance writer, whose “Romance of
the Forest,” “Mysteries of Udolpho,” and “Italian,” were very
popular a century ago.
[6] Diminutive of Michael—the familiar name for a bear in Russia.
[7] A Russian figure of speech which signifies that the person
spoken of is dead.

CHAPTER X.

About seven o’clock in the evening, some of the guests wished to

depart, but the host, merry with punch, ordered the gates to be
locked, and declared that nobody should leave the house until the
next morning. Music soon resounded, the doors of the saloon were
thrown open and the ball began. The host and his familiar
acquaintances sat in a corner, draining glass after glass, and
admiring the gaiety of the young people. The old ladies played at
cards. The gentlemen, as is always the case, except where a brigade
of uhlans is stationed, were less in number than the ladies, and all
the men, suitable for partners, were soon engaged for the dance.
The tutor particularly distinguished himself among them; all the
ladies wanted to have him as a partner, as they found it so
exceedingly easy to waltz with him. He danced several times with
Maria Kirilovna, and the ladies observed them with great interest. At
last, about midnight, the tired host stopped the dancing, ordered
supper to be served, and then betook himself off to bed.
The retirement of Kirila Petrovitch gave to the company more
freedom and animation. The gentlemen ventured to sit near the
ladies; the girls laughed and spoke in whispers to their neighbours;
the ladies spoke in loud voices across the table; the gentlemen
drank, disputed, and laughed boisterously. In a word, the supper
was exceedingly merry, and left behind it a very agreeable
impression.
One man only did not share in the general joy. Anton Pafnoutitch sat
gloomy and silent in his place, ate absently, and seemed extremely
uneasy. The conversation about the brigands had worked upon his
imagination. We shall soon see that he had good cause to fear them.
Anton Pafnoutitch, in invoking God as a witness that the little red
cash-box was empty, had not lied and sinned. The little red cash-box
was really empty. The bank notes, which had at one time been in it,
had been transferred to a leather pouch, which he carried on his
breast under his shirt. This precaution alone quieted his distrust of
everybody and his constant fear. Being compelled to spend the night
in a strange house, he was afraid that he might be lodged in some
solitary room, where thieves could easily break in. He looked round
in search of a trustworthy companion, and at last his choice fell upon
Desforges. His appearance,—indicative of strength,—but especially
the bravery shown by him in his encounter with the bear, which poor
Anton Pafnoutitch could never think of without a shudder, decided
his choice. When they rose from the table, Anton Pafnoutitch began
moving round the young Frenchman, clearing his throat and
coughing, and at last he turned to him and addressed him:
“Hm! hm! Couldn’t I spend the night in your room, mossoo, because
you see——”
“Que desire monsieur?” asked Desforges, with a polite bow.
“Ah! what a pity, mossoo, that you have not yet learnt Russian. Je
vais moa chez vous coucher. Do you understand?”
“Monsieur, très volontiers,” replied Desforges, “veuillez donner des
ordres en conséquence.”
Anton Pafnoutitch, well satisfied with his knowledge of the French
language, went off at once to make the necessary arrangements.
The guests began to wish each other good night, and each retired to
the room assigned to him, while Anton Pafnoutitch accompanied the
tutor to the wing. The night was dark. Desforges lighted the way
with a lantern. Anton Pafnoutitch followed him boldly enough,
pressing the hidden treasure occasionally against his breast, in order
to convince himself that his money was still there.
On arriving at the wing, the tutor lit a candle and both began to
undress; in the meantime Anton Pafnoutitch was walking about the
room, examining the locks and windows, and shaking his head at
the unassuring inspection. The doors fastened with only one bolt,
and the windows had not yet their double frames.[1] He tried to
complain to Desforges, but his knowledge of the French language
was too limited to enable him to express himself with sufficient
clearness. The Frenchman did not understand him, and Anton
Pafnoutitch was obliged to cease his complaints. Their beds stood
opposite each other; they both lay down, and the tutor extinguished
the light.
“Pourquoi vous toucher; pourquoi vous toucher?” cried Anton
Pafnoutitch, conjugating the Russian verb to extinguish, after the
French manner. “I cannot dormir in the dark.”
Desforges did not understand his exclamations, and wished him
good night.
“Accursed pagan!” muttered Spitsin, wrapping himself up in the
bedclothes: “he couldn’t do without extinguishing the light. So much
the worse for him. I cannot sleep without a light—Mossoo, mossoo,”
he continued: “Je ve avec vous parler.”
But the Frenchman did not reply, and soon began to snore.
“He is snoring, the French brute,” thought Anton Pafnoutitch, “while
I can’t even think of going to sleep. Thieves might walk in at any
moment through the open doors or climb in through the window,
and the firing of a cannon would not wake him, the beast!”
“Mossoo! mossoo!—the devil take you!”
Anton Pafnoutitch became silent. Fatigue and the effects of wine
gradually overcame his fear. He began to doze, and soon fell into a
deep sleep. A strange sensation aroused him. He felt in his sleep
that someone was gently pulling him by the collar of his shirt. Anton
Pafnoutitch opened his eyes and, by the pale light of an autumn
morning, he saw Desforges standing before him. In one hand the
Frenchman held a pocket pistol, and with the other he was
unfastening the strings of the precious leather pouch. Anton
Pafnoutitch felt faint.
“Qu’est ce que c’est, Mossoo, qu’est ce que c’est?” said he, in a
trembling voice.
“Hush! Silence!” replied the tutor in pure Russian.
“Silence! or you are lost. I am Doubrovsky.”

[1] The Russians put double frames to their windows in winter.

CHAPTER XI.

We will now ask the permission of the reader to explain the last
incidents of our story, by referring to the circumstances that
preceded them, and which we have not yet had time to relate.
At the station of ——, at the house of the postmaster, of whom we
have already spoken, sat a traveller in a corner, looking very modest
and resigned, and having the appearance of a plebeian or a
foreigner, that is to say, of a man having no voice in connection with
the post route. His britchka[1] stood in the courtyard, waiting for the
wheels to be greased. Within it lay a small portmanteau, evidence of
a very modest fortune. The traveller ordered neither tea nor coffee,
but sat looking out of the window and whistling, to the great
annoyance of the postmistress sitting behind the partition.
“The Lord has sent us a whistler,” said she, in a low voice. “How he
does whistle! I wish he would burst, the accursed pagan!”
“What does it matter?” said her husband. “Let him whistle!”
“What does it matter?” retorted his angry spouse; “don’t you know
the saying?”
“What saying? That whistling drives money away? Oh, Pakhomovna,
whether he whistles or not, we shall get precious little money out of
him.”
“Then let him go, Sidoritch. What pleasure have you in keeping him
here? Give him the horses, and let him go to the devil.”
“He can wait, Pakhomovna. I have only three troikas in the stable,
the fourth is resting. Besides, travellers of more importance may
arrive at any moment, and I don’t wish to risk my neck for a
Frenchman.... Hallo! there you are! Don’t you hear the sound of
galloping! What a rate! Can it be a general?”
A caliche stopped in front of the steps. The servant jumped down
from the box, opened the door, and a moment afterwards a young
man in a military cloak and white cap entered the station. Behind
him followed his servant, carrying a small box which he placed upon
the window-ledge.
“Horses!” said the officer, in an imperious voice.
“Directly!” replied the postmaster: “your road-pass, if you please.”
“I have no road-pass: I am not going to take the main road....
Besides, don’t you recognize me?”
The postmaster hastened to hurry the postilions. The young man
began to pace up and down the room. Then he went behind the
partition, and inquired of the postmistress in a low voice:
“Who is that traveller?”
“God knows!” replied the postmistress: “some Frenchman or other.
He has been five hours waiting for horses, and has done nothing but
whistle the whole of the time. He has quite wearied me, the
heathen!”
The young man spoke to the traveller in French.
“Where are you going to?” he asked.
“To the neighbouring town,” replied the Frenchman: “and from there
I am going to a landed proprietor who has engaged me as tutor
without ever having seen me. I thought I should have reached the
place to-day, but the postmaster has evidently decided otherwise. In
this country it is difficult to procure horses, monsieur l’officier.”
“And to which of the landed proprietors about here have you
engaged yourself?” asked the officer.
“To Troekouroff,” replied the Frenchman.
“To Troekouroff? Who is this Troekouroff?”
“Ma foi, monsieur. I have heard very little good of him. They say that
he is a proud and wilful noble, and so harsh towards the members of
his household, that nobody can live on good terms with him: that all
tremble at his name, and that with his tutors he stands upon no
ceremony whatever.”
“And you have decided to engage yourself to such a monster?”
“What is to be done, monsieur l’officier? He proposes to give me
good wages: three thousand roubles a year and everything found.
Perhaps I may be more fortunate than the others. I have an aged
mother: one half of my salary I will send to her for her support, and
out of the rest of my money I shall be able in five years to save a
small capital sufficient to make me independent for the rest of my
life. Then, bon soir, I return to Paris and set up in business.”
“Does anybody at Troekouroff’s know you?” asked the officer.
“Nobody,” replied the tutor. “He engaged me at Moscow, through
one of his friends, whose cook is a countryman of mine, and who
recommended me. I must tell you that I did not intend to be a tutor,
but a confectioner; but I was told that in your country the profession
of tutor is more lucrative.”
The officer reflected.
“Listen to me,” he said to the Frenchman: “What would you say if,
instead of this engagement, you were offered ten thousand roubles,
ready money, on condition that you returned immediately to Paris?”
The Frenchman looked at the officer in astonishment, smiled, and
shook his head.
“The horses are ready,” said the postmaster, entering the room at
that moment.
The servant confirmed this statement.
“Presently,” replied the officer: “leave the room for a moment.” The
postmaster and the servant withdrew “I am not joking,” he
continued in French. “I can give you ten thousand roubles; I only
want your absence and your papers.”
So saying, he opened his small box and took out of it several bank
notes. The Frenchman opened his eyes. He did not know what to
think.
“My absence ... my papers!” he repeated in astonishment. “Here are
my papers ... but you are surely joking. What do you want my
papers for?”
“That does not concern you. I ask you, do you consent or not?”
The Frenchman, still unable to believe his own ears, handed his
papers to the young officer, who rapidly examined them.
“Your passport ... very well; your letter of recommendation ... let us
see; the certificate of your birth ... capital! Well, here is your money;
return home. Farewell.”
The Frenchman stood as if glued to the spot. The officer came back.
“I had almost forgotten the most important thing of all. Give me
your word of honour that all this will remain a secret between us....
Your word of honour.”
“My word of honour,” replied the Frenchman. “But my papers? What
shall I do without them?”
“In the first town you come to, announce that you have been robbed
by Doubrovsky. They will believe you, and give you fresh papers.
Farewell: God grant you a safe and speedy return to Paris, and may
you find your mother in good health.”
Doubrovsky left the room, mounted the caliche, and galloped off.
The postmaster stood looking out of the window, and when the
caliche had driven off, he turned to his wife, exclaiming:
“Pakhomovna, do you know who that was? That was Doubrovsky!”
The postmistress rushed towards the window, but it was too late.
Doubrovsky was already a long way off. Then she began to scold her
husband.
“You have no fear of God. Why did you not tell me sooner, I should
at least have had a glimpse of Doubrovsky. But now I shall have to
wait long enough before I get a chance of seeing him again.
Shameless creature that you are!”
The Frenchman stood as if petrified. The agreement with the officer,
the money—everything seemed like a dream to him. But the bundle
of bank notes was there in his pocket, eloquently confirming the
reality of the wonderful adventure.
He resolved to hire horses to take him to the next town. The
postilion drove him very slowly, and he reached the town at nightfall.
On approaching the barrier, where, in place of a sentinel, stood a
dilapidated sentry-box, the Frenchman told the postilion to stop, got
out of the britchka and proceeded on foot, explaining by signs to the
driver that he might keep the vehicle and the portmanteau and buy
brandy with them. The driver was as much astonished at his
generosity as the Frenchman himself had been by Doubrovsky’s
proposal. But concluding that the “German”[2] had taken leave of his
senses, the driver thanked him with a very profound bow, and not
caring about entering the town, he made his way to a house of
entertainment that was well known to him, and the proprietor of
which was a friend of his. There he passed the whole night, and the
next morning he started back on his return journey with the troika,
without the britchka and without the portmanteau, but with a
swollen face and red eyes.
Doubrovsky, having possession of the Frenchman’s papers, boldly
appeared, as we have already seen, at the house of Troekouroff, and
there established himself. Whatever, were his secret intentions—we
shall know them later on—there was nothing in his behaviour to
excite suspicion. It is true that he did not occupy himself very much
with the education of little Sasha, to whom he allowed full liberty,
nor was he very exacting in the matter of his lessons, which were
only given for form’s sake, but he paid great attention to the musical
studies of his fair pupil, and frequently sat for hours beside her at
the piano.
Everybody liked the young tutor: Kirila Petrovitch for his boldness
and dexterity in the hunting-field; Maria Kirilovna for his unbounded
zeal and slavish attentiveness; Sasha for his tolerance, and the
members of the household for his kindness and generosity,
apparently incompatible with his means. He himself seemed to be
attached to the whole family, and already regarded himself as a
member of it.
About a month had elapsed from the time of his entering upon the
calling of tutor to the date of the memorable fête, and nobody
suspected that the modest young Frenchman was in reality the
terrible brigand whose name was a source of terror to all the landed
proprietors of the neighbourhood. During all this time, Doubrovsky
had never quitted Pokrovskoe, but the reports of his depredations
did not cease for all that, thanks to the inventive imagination of the
country people. It is possible, too, that his band may have continued
their exploits during the absence of the chief.
Passing the night in the same room with a man whom he could only
regard as a personal enemy, and one of the principal authors of his
misfortune, Doubrovsky had not been able to resist temptation. He
knew of the existence of the pouch, and had resolved to take
possession of it.
We have seen how he frightened poor Anton Pafnoutitch by his
unexpected transformation from a tutor into a brigand.

[1] A kind of open four-wheeled carriage, with a top and shutters

to close at pleasure.
[2] A general name for all foreigners in Russia.

CHAPTER XII.

At nine o’clock in the morning, the guests who had passed the night
at Pokrovskoe repaired one after the other to the sitting-room,
where the tea-urn was already boiling, and before which sat Maria
Kirilovna in a morning gown, and Kirila Petrovitch in a frieze coat and
slippers, drinking his tea out of a large cup like a wash-hand basin.
The last to appear was Anton Pafnoutitch; he was so pale, and
seemed so troubled, that everybody was struck by his appearance,
and Kirila Petrovitch inquired after his health. Spitsin replied in an
evasive manner, glaring with horror at the tutor, who sat there as if
nothing had happened. A few minutes afterwards a servant entered
and announced to Spitsin that his carriage was ready. Anton
Pafnoutitch hastened to take his leave of the company, and then
hurried out of the room and started off immediately. The guests and
the host could not understand what had happened to him, and Kirila
Petrovitch came to the conclusion that he was suffering from an
attack of indigestion.
After tea and the farewell breakfast, the other guests began to take
their leave, and soon Pokrovskoe became empty, and everything
went on in the usual manner.
Several days passed, and nothing remarkable had happened. The life
of the inhabitants of Pokrovskoe became very monotonous. Kirila
Petrovitch went out hunting every day; while Maria Kirilovna devoted
her time to reading, walking, and especially to musical exercises.
She was beginning to understand her own heart, and acknowledged
to herself with involuntary vexation that she was not indifferent to
the good qualities of the young Frenchman. He, on his side, never
overstepped the limits of respect and strict decorum, and thereby
quieted her pride and her timid suspicions. With more and more
confidence she gave herself up to the alluring habit of seeing him.
She felt dull without Desforges, and in his presence she was
constantly occupied with him, wishing to know his opinion of
everything, and always agreeing with him. She was not yet in love
with him perhaps; but at the first accidental obstacle or unexpected
reverse of destiny, the flame of passion would burst forth within her
heart.
One day, on entering the parlour, where the tutor awaited her, Maria
Kirilovna observed with astonishment that he looked pale and
troubled. She opened the piano and sang a few notes; but
Doubrovsky, under the pretext of a headaches, apologized,
interrupted the lesson, closed the music, and slipped a note into her
hand. Maria Kirilovna, without pausing to reflect, took it, and
repented almost at the same moment for having done so. But
Doubrovsky was no longer in the room. Maria Kirilovna went to her
room, unfolded the note, and read as follows:
“Be in the arbour near the brook this evening, at seven o’clock: it is
necessary that I should speak to you.”
Her curiosity was strongly excited. She had long expected a
declaration, desiring it and dreading it at one and the same time. It
would have been agreeable to her to hear the confirmation of what
she divined; but she felt that it would have been unbecoming to
hear such a declaration from a man who, on account of his position,
ought never to aspire to win her hand. She resolved to go to the
meeting-place, but she hesitated about one thing: in what manner
she ought to receive the tutor’s declaration—with aristocratic
indignation, with friendly admonition, with good-humoured banter,
or with silent sympathy. In the meantime she kept constantly looking
at the clock. It grew-; dark: candles were brought in. Kirila
Petrovitch sat down to play at “Boston”[1] with some of his
neighbours who had come to pay him a visit. The clock struck a
quarter to seven, and Maria Kirilovna walked quietly out on to the
steps, looked round on every side, and then hastened into the
garden.
The night was dark, the sky was covered with clouds, and it was
impossible to see anything at a distance of two paces; but Maria
Kirilovna went forward in the darkness along paths that were quite
familiar to her, and in a few minutes she reached the arbour. There
she paused in order to draw breath and to present herself before
Desforges with an air of calm indifference. But Desforges already
stood before her.
“I thank you,” he said in a low, sad voice, “for having granted my
request. I should have been in despair if you had not complied with
it.”
Maria Kirilovna answered him in the words she had prepared
beforehand.
“I hope you will not cause me to repent of my condescension.”
He was silent, and seemed to be collecting himself.
“Circumstances demand—I am obliged to leave you,” he said at last.
“It may be that you will soon hear—but before going away, I must
have an explanation with you.”
Maria Kirilovna made no reply. In these words she saw the preface
to the expected declaration.
“I am not what you suppose,” continued he, lowering his head: “I
am not the Frenchman Desforges—I am Doubrovsky.”
Maria Kirilovna uttered a cry.
“Do not be alarmed, for God’s sake! You need not be afraid of my
name. Yes, I am that unhappy person, whom your father, after
depriving him of his last crust of bread, drove out of his paternal
home and sent on to the highway to rob. But you need not be
afraid, either on your own account or on his. All is over.... I have
forgiven him; you have saved him. My first crime of blood was to
have been accomplished upon him. I prowled round his house,
determining where the fire should burst out, where I should enter
his bedroom, and how I should cut him off from all means of
escape; at that moment you passed by me like a heavenly vision,
and my heart was subdued. I understood that the house, in which
you dwelt, was sacred; that not a single person, connected with you
by the ties of blood, could lie beneath my curse. I looked upon
vengeance as madness, and dismissed the thought of it from my
mind. Whole days I wandered around the gardens of Pokrovskoe, in
the hope of seeing your white robe in the distance. In your
incautious walks I followed you, stealing from bush to bush, happy
in the thought that for you there was no danger, where I was
secretly present. At last an opportunity presented itself.... I
established myself in your house. Those three weeks were for me
days of happiness; the recollection of them will be the joy of my sad
life.... To-day I received news which renders it impossible for me to
remain here any longer. I part from you to-day—at this very
moment.... But before doing so, I felt that it was necessary that I
should reveal myself to you, so that you might not curse me nor
despise me. Think sometimes of Doubrovsky. Know that he was born
for another fate, that his soul was capable of loving you, that never
——”
Just then a loud whistle resounded, and Doubrovsky became silent.
He seized her hand and pressed it to his burning lips. The whistle
was repeated.
“Farewell,” said Doubrovsky: “they are calling me. A moment’s delay
may destroy me.”
He moved away.... Maria Kirilovna stood motionless. Doubrovsky
returned and once more took her by the hand.
“If misfortune should ever overtake you, and you are unable to
obtain help or protection from anybody, will you promise to apply to
me, to demand from me everything that may be necessary for your
happiness? Will you promise not to reject my devotion?”
Maria Kirilovna wept silently. The whistle resounded for the third
time.
“You will destroy me!” cried Doubrovsky: “but I will not leave you
until you give me a reply. Do you promise me or not?”
“I promise!” murmured the poor girl.
Greatly agitated by her interview with Doubrovsky, Maria Kirilovna
returned from the garden. As she approached the house, she
perceived a great crowd of people in the courtyard; a troika was
standing in front of the steps, the servants were running hither and
thither, and the whole house was in a commotion. In the distance
she heard the voice of Kirila Petrovitch, and she hastened to reach
her room, fearing that her absence might be noticed. Kirila
Petrovitch met her in the hall. The visitors were pressing round our
old acquaintance the sheriff, and were overwhelming him with
questions. The sheriff, in travelling dress, and armed from head to
foot, answered them with a mysterious and anxious air.
“Where have you been, Masha?” asked Kirila Petrovitch. “Have you
seen Monsieur Desforges?”
Masha could scarcely answer in the negative.