"No nonsense," he said. "Where is it?"
"But I protest against having my place looted," cried the Countess.
"Lady, I'm sorry. I would not take a nail from Ruvno. But orders are orders. See here," and he pulled a slip of paper from his boot, dismounted and took it to her.
She waved it aside.
"It's Greek to me--I don't understand this taking everything."
"No. I--Lady Countess, I say again, I'm very sorry. But I'm only a poor Cossack, to obey orders. Where is the machine? We have to be off--or the Germans will take us--and the metals."
"My son has gone out with it," she said shortly. "You'd take the shoes from our feet if you'd the time."
"No--I would take nothing. Whereabouts is your son with his machine?"
She pointed angrily southwards. The direction was vague. The man looked at the sun, which was getting high.
"He'll be back at midday?"