“No. I cannot be Barinschja to you. I will be mademoiselle.”
“I thank you.” I understand enough Russian to appreciate the difference. Barinschja is from inferior to superior; mademoiselle from equal to equal. “Then it shall be mademoiselle. Now for the map.”
“No, not yet. You have forgotten something. You have spoken of the man you wounded yesterday, but not of the one you fought and bound. It is he who has gone free, isn’t it, to fetch his comrades?”
“Yes, but I did not mean to tell you. How did you guess?”
“From what you said before you—before we fetched that side-saddle.” She smiled as she changed the phrase. “When you would not answer the question, which I tried to force you to answer.”
“Mademoiselle is very quick-witted.”
“And Burgwan can be very obstinate,” she retorted; and I smiled in my turn.
“The fellow was set free by my men, but I do not think he can get back in time to do any harm.”
“And why have your men deserted you?”
“They were not bound to remain with me.”