"Then take him over there," he pointed to the home forest.
"Too far," said one. "We're off this minute."
As they dug a hasty grave for him he went for Holy Water, and gave him Christian burial. And much later, when he could control his face, he told the Countess that the German who had been shot in the Garden was a Catholic; so they put up one of the wooden Crosses such as you can see by the thousand in Poland to-day. And when there was nobody about he used to pray for his soul. And sometimes, in the very early morning, he would take the portable altar out there, and say a Mass for Roman Skarbek.
And because the burden of his secret was worse than his heart could bear, he sat up all night when the household thought him asleep and set it down in his diary.
VI
Ian, on waking that morning, found that all the Cossacks had left. He went in to breakfast, feeling a little hurt with his cousin, Roman. He might at least have shouted a farewell through the window.
"Has anybody seen Roman this morning?" he asked the rest of the family as they met for the morning meal.
"He came in last night for a moment, after supper," said the Countess. "But I was going to the wards and we did not talk. He said some officer had sent for him."
"He was going to shoot a spy at daybreak," said Minnie. Vanda was silent. She had not seen him at all, had kept away from the supper-table, on purpose to avoid him.
At that moment Father Constantine came in. His face was ashen gray and distorted with emotion.