“Mademoiselle,” said I, “you may see your château of Capello sooner than you think, for surely the Russians will not detain you, but will provide you with a suitable escort and take you to a place of safety.”
“It will be as God wills,” replied Francezka, as coolly as you please.
We waited an hour before Gaston Cheverny’s return. Count Saxe took him into the other half-ruined tower room, where there were pens and ink, and a candle in a bottle. I was prepared to write anything required.
Gaston Cheverny had a queer look on his face, like a man who has seen for the first time, and unexpectedly, something hideous.
“It is General Bibikoff,” he said to Count Saxe, “with twelve hundred men, and he desires to speak with you, Monsieur, in person; and begs that you will come to the parley; but by my knack of understanding the Russian tongue, I found out that it is a ruse to get you away from the island and carry you off. Twelve hundred against one man—and that man, Count Saxe!”
Never saw I Maurice of Saxe in such a rage as at this scandalous breach of military honor. He roared out his wrath like a wild bull—oh, the lion voice of him! The old towers and escarpments echoed with it. When he grew a little calm he said to Gaston Cheverny:
“Bring Bibikoff to me. I warrant this traitor will not hesitate to trust my word.”
Which was true; and I ever thought it the highest tribute to Count Saxe’s honor that this treacherous general who himself had no honor knew that Maurice of Saxe had—and to it trusted his life and all his fortunes.
Gaston Cheverny again crossed to the mainland. The evening was clear, though moonless, and the pitying stars came out in the eastern sky, while the west glowed warmly with the great sinking sun, that left a track of glory behind it. In half an hour Gaston returned with Bibikoff. Count Saxe awaited them in the tower room. The Russian was, of course, blindfolded. He was a great bear of a man, with a goatlike face, very dirty and unshaven, but splendidly dressed.