Azya looked at the nearest place, barely visibly through the fog, and said,—
“From that point it is nearer to Rashkoff than to Yampol.” And he breathed deeply, as if a great weight had fallen from his breast.
At that moment the tramp of a horse was heard from the direction of the cavalry, and some horseman was seen indistinctly in the fog.
“Halim! I know him,” cried Azya.
Indeed, it was Halim, who, when he had rushed up to Azya and Basia, sprang from his horse and began to beat with his forehead toward the stirrup of the young Tartar.
“From Rashkoff?” inquired Azya.
“From Rashkoff, my lord,” answered Halim.
“What is to be heard there?”
The old man raised toward Basia his ugly head, emaciated from unheard of toils, as if wishing to inquire whether he might speak in her presence; but Tugai Bey’s son said at once,—
“Speak boldly. Have the troops gone out?”