"I am sorry you won't come," he said, mounting his horse. "The Germans won't be good to you."
And he left them reluctantly, followed by his men. The Countess laughed at the odd figures they cut, with her bells and saucepans tied to their saddles; but there were tears in her eyes all the same. When they were out of sight she and the Father returned to their work in the farmyard. They were still there, two hours later, when Martin came running into the barn.
"My lady," he panted, more from emotion than fatigue; "the Prussian brutes are here. One of their officers, who gives his name as Graf von Senborn, wants to speak to my Lord the Count."
"The Count is in the fields. Tell this officer I will see him. Bring him here," said the Countess.
She had on a cotton apron and a kerchief such as peasant women wear. She and the priest looked at one another with uneasiness; they had hoped against hope that the Prussians would keep off till their crops were in a safe place; they had hoped that the invaders would not care to put up at Ruvno, almost denuded of wine and as desolate as could be after nearly a year's war, comforting themselves with the thought that there were places, nearer Warsaw, likely to attract them better. The clank of spurs sounded on the stones; a moment later an officer, whose face was vaguely familiar to the priest, swaggered into the huge barn. Some girls were working at the far end, and stopped to look at him. He saluted and said:
"Where are the Cossacks?"
"They left an hour ago," said Father Constantine, racking his brains to remember where they had met before.
"Is that so?" he asked the Countess.
"Yes. They took the chapel bells and the copper things out of my kitchen. For the rest, you can search the place."
He eyed her with a certain interest. I suppose he had never seen a grand lady stacking before, except, perhaps, for the fun of it. And she was not very quick at the work, for even stacking is hard to learn when you are no longer young. He looked lean, hard, well-bred; a very different type from the man who so nearly carried off their stores last winter. He spoke French fluently, though with true German gutturalness. The others went on with their work.