I heard the news with genuine anguish of soul. We were hemmed in. The absence of any outlet except by the lane made escape absolutely hopeless, and for a moment I was borne down with despair.
“We can only make a forlorn hope of it,” said Zoiloff. “Charge them and try to make off in the confusion.”
I bit my lip and racked my brains in the effort to find some other than this useless, desperate scheme, and then suddenly a light beamed through the darkness.
“Markov, can you find your way across the fields at the back here to the road—on horseback I mean?”
“Yes, certainly, your Honour, but with the cart——”
“Zoiloff, good friend, we must part now. There is only one way. You and Markov must ride with the Princess on horseback, escaping by the back across the fields till you strike the road. I must go in the cart with Mademoiselle Broumoff, if she is brave enough to risk this for the Princess;” and I looked at her eagerly.
“I will do anything,” she assented readily.
“It will make them think that only we six were in the house here; that Mademoiselle Broumoff is the Princess, and that we are making the rush to escape after the fight just now.”
“I cannot consent to that,” said Christina earnestly. “You will be going to certain capture.”
I drew her aside from the rest to urge her, and Zoiloff, understanding things with the quick instinct of a friend, led them out of the room on the plea of hastening the preparations.