Krizsanowski replaced his sword in its scabbard.
"Good! So let it be! There's not a man who could injure your husband! We will form Constantine's escort."
And the troop of Polish cavalry gave escort to the fugitive Viceroy until he had reached the encampment just assembled for manœuvres.
An enemy protecting a fugitive!
Magnanimity is sometimes contagious, not always; but occasionally people are carried away by it.
It was only in camp that Constantine knew that Johanna, in saving his life, had been wounded. It touched him to the heart. Only such deep emotion as he then experienced makes it intelligible that a Russian Grand Duke, viceroy and field-marshal, could rise to the unexampled magnanimity of uttering in camp such words as these to the troops ranged before him in battle-array:
"He who is a Pole, and loves his fatherland more than he does me, may step forth from the ranks and go free."
And, with arms and banners, he suffered every Polish regiment under his command to march out, and then with his remaining Russian troops withdrew from Poland, and, at their head, returned to Russian territory.
Could such immense magnanimity be forgiven?
Never!