‘I have been brutally used,’ said Jack; and he told the count what he had gone through.
The Russian’s handsome features grew dark with rage.
‘I will teach these scum a lesson for disgracing our country. Are the men here who captured you?’
Four of them who had beaten Jack with their whips and lance-butts stood by the fire, pale with fear, for though they could not understand French they seemed to guess at the impending storm.
Jack pointed them out. ‘Those fellows used their whips upon me,’ he said.
The count uttered a few words in a terrible voice, and one of the guilty Cossacks called two others to him. Then the count gave another curt order, six of his orderly Dragoons, big men in dark-green, with tall, red felt shakos, dismounted; the wretched Cossacks were seized and their upper garments stripped off them. The Dragoons, who seemed to enjoy the task, then taking some of the Cossacks’ whips, laid them about the men’s shoulders till they howled again with pain.
‘We need not wait to see this,’ said the count to Jack; ‘my men will carry out their task properly. Now, are you able to sit a horse?’
‘I think so,’ said Jack.
‘Then away.’
Jack was wrapped in the coat of one of the Dragoons, mounted on his horse, and they rode off at once for Sebastopol.