They were to receive the stipulated signal from St. Petersburg by pigeon-post.
And one day the post-pigeon really did arrive at the Castle.
They found among its tail feathers a thin membrous letter, to whose cipher Heinrich possessed the key.
Heinrich took the letter and unhusked its contents. "Bad news—the very worst," he cried; "the Revolution broke out at St. Petersburg, but was instantly suppressed. All the leaders of the league have been seized. Sauve qui peut!"
"There you are," said the Starosta. "I'm old, and drink too much, eh? But if I want to do anything, nobody shall stand in my way but myself. You are young and wise; that is why you can talk so much and do nothing."
"Our sole safety is now in flight," said Heinrich. "The pigeon-post has just brought us the bad news, but as yet the Governor knows nothing about it. He will only be informed of it officially to-morrow afternoon. We have the start of him by two days. We ought to take refuge at once."
"Where?" inquired the Starosta.
"Our way is plain. Austria is quite close to us. Vienna will not deliver up political refugees. There, too, is Casimir's future father-in-law, and he is a man of great political influence. We must take shelter under his wings. Only let the first fury pass away over our heads; the rest will be a matter of high diplomacy."
So the two young men resolved to fly towards the Austrian frontier. The Russian Government would know nothing of their flight thither and their stay there.
A week later the Starosta received a letter written by Heinrich, in which he was informed that the two young men had safely crossed the border and arrived in the Austrian capital, proceeding at once to the Prince's family mansion, where they had been very heartily welcomed. There was no danger. They had simply denied any participation in the revolution. The ambassadors would make all the rest easy.