“Precisely, Monsieur,” replied Slavianski. “My thigh was broken, and the healing has been long, though the limb was set with marvellous skill by the Albanian yonder. I am not so young as I was.”
“And Major Rostopchin?”
“Is doubtless enjoying himself, Monsieur. He has apparently forgotten me. He left me, intending to make his way with the third member of my party to Trieste.”
“I am sorry to see you in such a plight,” said Maurice, “but, of course, you are in no danger now. My friend Giulika will not be implacable.”
“I am not sure that I thank you, Monsieur,” said the Count bitterly. “I am lamed for life; my failure in that little business in the summer has discredited me with—you know whom; and a bullet through the head would be an easy way out of a hopeless situation. But I should have killed a few of these ruffians first.”
“It was evidently a mistake to burn the kula, Monsieur——”
“But they killed my man,” interrupted the Count. “The mistake was in turning aside on the road to Castellane. If I had got into Brindisi before you it would have been all up with you.”
“Perhaps,” responded Maurice with a smile. “By good luck and my brother’s ingenuity I managed to score a point, and I bear you no grudge. The thing now is to secure your safety. We have come to compensate the old man for the losses his loyalty to us entailed, and I daresay we can persuade him to let bygones be bygones. You had better accompany us to the kula, I think.”
He returned to Giulika, and after a short conversation the old man gave orders to Giorgio and Marko to bring the Count to the kula. The whole party set off, and, striking up the bypath, soon came to the village. The evidences of Slavianski’s vengeance were manifest. The kula was a mere shell. The interior had been burnt out, with all the old man’s furniture and stores. He could not hope to repair the damage until he had reaped the crops of several years. Since the destruction of his property he and his family had lived in the houses of neighbours. The Englishmen were invited to enter one of these, Slavianski being left outside in charge of the young men.
Giulika entertained his guests with the same kindly hospitality as on their former visit. He did not speak of his misfortunes, but begged to have a fall account of their adventures after leaving him at the Drin. Nothing more delighted him than the story of the race at Prizren, and he laughed heartily at the thought of the Pasha’s disappointment when the horseman returned alone.