"What was the name of the girl?" he inquired afterward.
"Medje, commander; as soon as she was able to speak the captain inquired after her name. But when he observed that she, perhaps, might wish to return to her tribe, she sobbed bitterly, and tried to show in every respect how much she dreaded it. Who she really was we could never make out. In that cursed country it is quite different than with us. As soon as they can muster together ten people they imagine that they are a nation, and in need of a sultan. From some expressions of Medje we could form the idea that she was the daughter of such a sultan. The captain placed his hand over her, and I was present when he said to her:
"'Medje, you do not seem to have a longing for your father; if you wish to remain with us I will take you under my protection, and I will care for you as if you were my own daughter.'"
"And what answer did Medje give to that?" inquired the count, eagerly.
"Oh, she kissed his hands, she cried for joy, and was really treated well by him. He acted toward her as though she were a little queen. She had her servants, and when the captain went out skirmishing he always reminded the comrades to take care of her, who accordingly were ready and willing to put their hands under her feet!"
"What became of her afterward?"
"Yes, that is the great point at issue. When the last expedition, from which the captain was not to return, was planned, Medje threw herself around the neck of her protector, and adjured him to remain back. The captain laughed at her. She had no idea what discipline signified, and, sobbing, she repeated constantly:
"'Not go away, little papa—not going!'
"Ah, what would not I have given afterward had we taken her advice! When I alone returned from this unfortunate expedition, I was informed that Medje had disappeared the same night, almost at the same hour."
"Then the child was a spy!" exclaimed the count, displeased. "She knew about the expedition, and informed her people accordingly."