The Cossacks, who on his approach had sprung to their feet and uncovered, instantly cut Jack’s bonds.
‘My friend! my preserver!’ cried the young officer in French, taking both Jack’s hands as he was lifted to his feet; ‘to think you should have been treated thus!’
Jack, who felt half-dazed, and whose legs were terribly cramped, would have fallen to the ground, but the officer caught him in his arms.
‘Courage! courage!’ he said; ‘you shall soon be more comfortable, and these dogs who have dared to use a British soldier thus shall smart for it.’
Jack stared dully at him.
‘Do you not recognise me?’ asked the young officer.
Jack shook his head, when the officer removed his cap and opening his cloak showed the white uniform beneath.
‘I am Count Pauloff, he whom you saved at the Alma,’ he said. ‘I gave you this,’ and he held up the cross which Kirchoff had taken away the night before.
‘I remember,’ said Jack.
‘You look ill; you have been badly used. My poor friend, tell me what has happened?’