"I trust that your wounds are not painful?" said she, with tender earnestness, after a short pause, during which she perceived me to wince once or twice.
"My immersion in salt water has made them smart, perhaps; and then the blood I have lost has caused such a dimness of sight, that at times, even while speaking with you, though I hear your voice, your figure seems to melt from before me."
"I am so deeply sorry to hear this; but a night's repose, and perhaps the rest of to-morrow may, nay, I doubt not shall, cure you of this weakness."
"I thank you for your good wishes and intentions."
"In that skirmish, fought single-handed by you against our Cossacks, they thrust you into the water--actually into the sea?"
"Yes; by the mere force of their charged lances--horse and man we went over together; but not before I had shot their leader--a resolute fellow--poor Volhonski!"
At this name both ladies started and changed colour, though the younger alone understood me.
"Whom did you say?" she asked, in a voice of terror, while trembling violently.
"Paulovitch Count Volhonski, a name well known in the Russian army, I believe; he commanded the Vladimir regiment at the Alma and in Sebastopol."
"And he--he fell by your hand?"