"Even so," said Bernikoff hoarsely, while averting his stealthy eyes from the young man's open and earnest face; "even so, Ivan Antonovitch; but your death will not be of our seeking."
"Whose then, whose then?"
"Your friends."
"Oh, what dreadful paradox is this?" asked the Prince calmly; "must I die, even as Demetrius died?"
"Yes," replied the other hoarsely.
"And wherefore?"
"There are those without the gates who seek you, and you must not fall alive into their hands," said Captain Vlasfief sternly, as he felt the point of his sabre with a finger.
"Alas! I do not understand who can come to seek me!" replied the poor Prince, shuddering now, while an expression of horror began to spread over his fine face,—a horror gathered from the fierce and relentless aspect he read in the visages of those around him,—and he withdrew a pace or so towards his bed, saying, in a touching voice:—
"Ah, do not leave me, good Colonel Bernikoff, or at least give me a sword—a sword——"
"Fool—child—dolt! thou with a sword, and for what purpose?" thundered Bernikoff, as he sought to lash himself into the requisite pitch of fury; "for what purpose, I say?"