“Well?” I asked eagerly.
“I have news. We had better not stay longer here, your honour,” he whispered, and walked away, speaking rapidly as we walked. “The Princess Christina left here some two hours ago. She is a prisoner in the hands of General Kolfort’s men. She was roused by them just before midnight and compelled to enter a carriage that was in waiting, and was driven off under a strong guard, with a considerable escort of mounted men.”
“Where have they taken her?” cried Zoiloff and I, in a breath together, when he paused.
“The actual destination is not known, but the carriage started for the south road, that leading to Liublian; and one suggestion is that they will carry her to Ichtman or on to Samakovo, where there is a strong Russian detachment.”
“Do you know who was with her? Was anyone?” I asked.
“Yes; Mademoiselle Broumoff was taken from home at the same time, and I believe was in the carriage with the Princess.”
“Did you hear anything concerning the Count?” asked Zoiloff.
“I was asked if your honour was still at liberty, and advised to look out for a new master. I shall not do that yet, sir, I hope,” he added; “not till you tell me, at any rate.”
I liked his faithfulness in choosing such a moment to assure me of his attachment.
“It may be a dangerous service for the next few hours, Markov; but you have done excellently in this—excellently.”