Poor fellow! When the cloud had passed from his mind, what would life be worth to him, even if the story of his cowardice were never made known?
What misery each recurring day would bring, as he thought of the terrible price he had paid for his life--manhood, honour, chivalry, all irretrievably lost in that one mad moment!
For the count's own sake I almost wished that a shot from the enemy would bring him down.
Had I been able to look into the future, the half-wish would have changed into a whole-hearted prayer.
But apparently luck was with the count. My horse, having recovered his wind, bore him gallantly, gaining at every stride upon the last of the robbers.
All this takes long in the telling; in reality it lasted but a little time, though to me it seemed an age.
With Count Beula and my horse had vanished every hope of escape.
Flight was impossible, and how could I stand against a hundred hussars?
Then I remembered Von Theyer, and gnashed my teeth at the thought of how he would gloat over my capture.
Would he kill me? It was likely enough, since I had been found in company with a notorious outlaw, and not many questions are asked concerning the victims of an unsuccessful revolution.