“No doubt of it; but now, brother, that we know where we are going, let us waste no more time, but signify our acceptance of the conditions, and be off at once.”
“Agreed,” said Ivan; and both returning into the presence of the baron, announced their readiness to take the road.
“Are we to travel alone, papa?” inquired Ivan; “I think you spoke of an attendant?”
“Yes, one attendant. You must not be encumbered with too many servants to wait upon you. One will be quite sufficient.”
“Who is it to be?” asked Ivan.
The baron rang the bell, and a servant entered.
“Send Corporal Pouchskin to me!”
Shortly after, the door reopened, and a man of about fifty appeared. The tall well-balanced form and erect attitude—the close-cropped hair and enormous grizzled moustache—combined with great gravity of features, denoted a veteran of the Imperial Guard,—one of those grand and redoubtable soldiers who have seen service in the presence of an emperor. Though no longer wearing the military uniform, but dressed somewhat as a park or game keeper, the silent salute and attitude of “attention” were sufficiently indicative of the profession which Pouchskin had followed: for it was the veritable Pouchskin who had entered the apartment. He said not a word, nor did he look either to the right or left,—only directly forward, and at the baron.
“Corporal Pouchskin!”
“General!”