The act of speaking brought a rush of blood to his mouth, and ere he could finish the strange utterance, he was gone.
"Jesu Maria, he's dead!" murmured Katina in awe; and then, her mood changing, she added with a wild laugh, "Russakoff has earned his roubles."
The whole affair had happened so quickly that it was almost impossible to believe in its reality, though the dead form of Trevisa lay there before their eyes. For fully half a minute Paul stared helplessly at the silent figure. Amazement—grief—horror kept him mute and motionless; then in a moment these feelings gave way to the wild desire for vengeance.
"I'll find the assassin," he muttered, springing from the troika, "and sabre him on the spot, though I die the next moment for it."
"Would you go back among those wolves?" cried Katina. "No, no; they will kill you too." She also sprang from the troika, and held Paul by the wrist. "Indeed you shall not go. Leave the assassin to Zabern. Zabern will find him. And thank heaven, here is the marshal!"
As she spoke the clatter of horse-hoofs was heard, and turning in the direction of the sound, Paul saw a troop of lancers approaching with Zabern at their head.
On nearing the troika the marshal halted his men, saluted Paul with his sword, and then eying the crowd that was still impotently yelling in the distance, he said,—
"In the fiend's name, what possessed you three to drive through Russograd on such a night as this?"
His eye now caught sight of the limp appearance presented by the silent form reclining on the troika. He sprang from his horse with consternation written on his face.
"Good God! don't say that Trevisa is dead!—Trevisa, whom I hoped to see fighting under the banner of the princess! Dead!" he muttered under his breath, "and just as he was on the point of deciphering the secret despatch, too!"