Mounted men on the Slavna road—and too many to be the Prince's guard!
"What can it be?" asked Sophy in a low voice.
"I don't know. Zerkovitch's arrival must be connected with the same thing, I think."
"There! There are their shakoes coming over the rise of the hill!" cried Peter Vassip.
The next moment showed the company. They rode in fours, with sergeants on the flanks. The officer in command was behind—the three on the causeway could not see him yet. They were Hussars of the King's Guard, the best regiment in the army. The Prince of Slavna had made them good soldiers—they hated him for it. But Stafnitz was their colonel. On they came; in their blue tunics and silver braid they made a brave show in the sunshine.
The three watched now without word or motion. The sudden sight held them spellbound. Not one of them thought of sending to warn the Prince. If they had, the thought would have been useless, unless it had chimed in with Mistitch's will. Twenty men could have been on them before there was time to saddle a horse. If the expedition were a hostile one, the Castle was caught napping in very truth!
Sophy stood forward a pace in front of her companions; her hand rested on the little revolver which Monseigneur had given her.
On came the company; the foremost file reached within twenty yards of the causeway. There they halted. Half of them dismounted, each man as he did so intrusting his horse to his next fellow. Half of the fifty thus left mounted repeated this operation, leaving the remaining twenty-five in charge of all the horses. The seventy-five took position, four deep, on the road. They separated, lining either side.
The figure of their commander now appeared. He rode to the foot of the causeway, then dismounted, and gave his horse to the sergeant who attended him. His men followed and drew up in the road, blocking the approach to the Castle. Big Mistitch began to ascend the causeway, a broad smile on his face. It was a great moment for Captain Hercules—the day of revenge for which he had waited in forced patience and discreet unobtrusiveness. It was a critical day, also, in view of the instructions he had. To do him justice, he was not afraid.
Sophy saw and knew. This must have been the news that Zerkovitch carried, that he had galloped on to tell to the Prince at Volseni. Some event—some unknown and untoward turn of fortune—had loosed Mistitch on them! That was all she had time to realize before Mistitch saluted her and spoke.