“Are you really safe, Michel?” she asked, gazing into his face with a look I could understand readily, and, laughing and crying by turns, she plied him with a hundred questions.
His story was of deep interest and moment to us, and, though I was in full mood to sympathise with the lovers, I was eager to hear it.
“I can tell my story in a very few words,” he said at length, turning to us. “Just after we left Liublian we were attacked by a party that outnumbered us by five to one. Our man in the rear galloped up to warn us as you had ordered him, Count, but the troops were right on his heels, and, as our horses were anything but fresh, I dared not risk a race in the effort to reach you. I determined to fight it out there and then, but from the first we hadn’t a chance. The troops fired not at us, but at the horses, until only two of us were left mounted. The rest you can gather. We had never a chance. My men resisted as long as resistance was possible, but one after another they were surrounded, disarmed, and secured. When all was lost we two fled, but some dozen of the troops came pricking after us. My companion’s horse was shot; but almost by a miracle neither my horse nor myself was touched, though the firing was heavy enough. When I came down that hill yonder, I saw you, and saw you turn into the lane. In a moment I knew the mistake you had made, for I know this country to a yard, and it occurred to me to pass the entrance to the lane in the hope that the troops behind me had not seen you. I made for the next turning, therefore—that which you should have taken but happily did not—and to my intense relief the men behind, thinking no doubt that I was following you, followed me. The rest was easy enough. My horse was fleeter than theirs, and I led them a dance at a rattling speed for some ten miles. Then I dismounted, and, giving my horse a whack with my hand, sent him on without me, while I slipped into some bushes and waited for the men to pass. They did this, swearing prettily, as you may imagine, and as soon as they had gone by I set off across country in a bee-line for this place, thinking it not unlikely that you would take refuge here for a while. And here I am, and that’s all.”
Our congratulations poured upon him, and then Zoiloff and I went away, that he and the little Broumoff might be together. It was the best reward we could make him just then.
“Those men will try back when they find he’s fooled them,” said Zoiloff, “and we had better be ready.”
“They’ll have to come soon,” said I, “or they’ll find the nest empty and the birds flown.”
“They’ve over two hours yet,” he returned drily, and together we went back to our watch-window in the roof, giving orders that the house was to be kept as silent as if it were deserted.
The minutes were weighted now with the old fears and suspense, and scarce a word passed between my staunch friend and myself. And when we spoke it was in a whisper, as though the men had already come. For an hour more nothing occurred to disturb us, and once again the flame of hope began to kindle. But it was only to be ruthlessly quenched.
When a glance at my watch told me that an hour and a quarter had gone by we saw that which made us start and draw breath quickly.
Two troopers came riding slowly up the lane, looking carefully to right and left as they approached. The peasant’s dog barked loudly, and at the sound they stopped, and peered curiously at the house. Then they advanced until they stood close to the yard-gate, and both stared at the house and spoke together.