On the 24th they marched on Miechow, having no other arms than scythes and sticks and old-fashioned fowling-pieces. Led by inexperienced chiefs, who, in their ardor, fondly imagined that patriotism and a holy cause would carry the day against military tactics, they were foolish enough to attack, in broad daylight, a strong body of Russians, well armed and superior to them in numbers, who occupied an almost impregnable position on the heights above the town. The result may be easily imagined. The Poles were repulsed with heavy loss, and the Russians, who delight in celebrating their triumphs by a bonfire, burnt down the town and massacred all the Poles who came within their reach.
Ten of the Polish wounded were secretly brought to the castle, where we had established a subterranean ambulance. It was my business to dress the wounds of these poor fellows, assisted by a holy nun, the Mother Alexandra, who played too important a part in my future history not to be mentioned here. The Count L—— did not approve of the insurrection and considered it hopeless from the first; but he would not abandon his brave peasants. Towards the 30th of this month our couriers gave us warning that the Russians were aware of the wounded men being under our care, and that they were marching on the castle for the purpose of burning it down. The count refused to fly, saying that his place was amongst his own people at Syez, of whom he had always been both the father and protector. But he called me into his counsels, and implored me to carry off his wife and children and his sister-in-law (who lived with us) to Mislowitz, a little manufacturing town on the frontier of Silesia and Poland. After all it was a false alarm; and after a fortnight’s exile, which anxiety and fear had doubled, a letter from the count recalled us. We had nearly reached the end of our journey when we were attacked by a mob of Russian fanatics, who endeavored to seize the carriage. I was on horseback at the head of the little cavalcade, and I managed by means of my revolver to keep these miscreants at bay. The coachman profited by this moment’s respite to lash his horses into a gallop, by which means we escaped the ambush and reached the castle in safety.
But our tranquillity was not destined to be of long duration. About a fortnight later eight insurgents of the legion called of “Despair” sought refuge in our house. We concealed them as well as we could; but in the middle of the night notice was sent us that the Russians were on their track and had discovered their hiding-place. We hastened to send them off to a part of the forest where a cavern had been prepared to receive any such fugitives. They reached it in safety, but unhappily were betrayed by a peasant to whom the secret had been confided. The exasperated Russians again threatened the castle; and again the count insisted on our flight. On our way an alarm was given of some sort which so terrified the coachman that he threw down his whip and fled for his life, leaving us and the carriage at the mercy of the four horses, which were strong beasts and very fresh. Luckily, they stood still for a moment, and, as I was used to driving, I reassured the countess and jumped on the box. Hardly, however, had I taken the reins than the wheels of the carriage became wedged in the sand. I jumped off the box, and, seizing one of the leaders by the bridle, urged him forward with all my might. The animal made so violent an effort that he threw me down and dragged me some twenty paces; but as I held on for dear life, he ended by stopping, and, the carriage being thus released, we went on as fast as we could, continually in dread of pursuit, till we reached the house of Countess N——, who received us with the warmest kindness and hospitality. Our stay here, however, was not of long duration, for my poor friend, the Countess L——, was in an agony to return to her husband, who had been left alone in the castle; and so, at the risk of being again captured, we returned to Syez. Fortunately, this time we had no alarms on the road, and the joy of the family at their safe reunion was as great as their thankfulness.
But our happiness was short-lived. Although the count did not take any part in the insurrection, it was well known that his sympathies were with his people, and this was sufficient to make him a marked man with the Russian authorities. At last we heard from undeniable authority that his arrest had been determined upon, and that he had been already condemned to Siberia. Then followed a heartrending scene—his wife and children (whose whole future would have been wrecked had his deportation been carried into effect) imploring him to take refuge in Germany, where he had a small property, and to remain there till the storm was past; while he clung tenaciously to his old home and to his duties as a proprietor during the struggle. Finally, he yielded to our tears and entreaties; but before leaving he sent for me and solemnly commended his wife and children to my care. I swore to defend them or to die in the attempt. It was agreed that we were to watch our opportunity, and, if possible, obtain an escort so as to cross the frontier and rejoin the count as soon as we could. Three days only after his departure we received intelligence that the Russians were close to our gates and were going to insist on a domiciliary visit. I flew to the count’s private room and commenced making an auto-da-fé of every compromising letter or paper I could find and of all suspected newspapers. Whilst I was fanning the flames the count’s sister came in, and, seeing what I was about, exclaimed with horror:
“O Mika! for God’s sake stop. You don’t know what you are doing. All Arthur’s gunpowder is hidden and stowed away in that chimney!”
I was almost paralyzed with fear, but I said:
“Fly for your life and get the countess and the children out of the house.” And then, with a fervent ejaculatory prayer to God, I tore the burning papers out of the grate before the flames had had time to ignite the gunpowder, which, luckily for me, had been carefully done up in packets and placed in a metal box. I managed to drag the papers into another fireplace, and had time to see that they were all burnt, and to conceal the tinder, before the Cossacks surrounded the house and summoned us to open the doors. Their officers made the most minute examination of everything, but found nothing that they could lay their hands on, and went away disgusted, while I escaped with a few trifling burns on my hands and arms.
A few days after this scene Mme. de I—— and I were sitting talking in the room where we generally met and waited before dinner, when the countess came in with an open letter in her hand and looking more sad and pale than usual. “What has happened?” we both exclaimed; and I added, smiling: “Are we condemned to the knout? Or do the Russians reserve us the honor of a hempen collar?” But my dismal pleasantry produced no response, and the poor lady silently came and sat down by me, taking my hand. After a pause she said:
“Mika, I have been unwittingly guilty of a great indiscretion. You know how miserably anxious I am for news of Arthur’s safety. A servant whom I had sent to the post, in hopes of finding a letter from him, brought me back this one; and, full of my cruel anxiety, I tore it open without looking at the address, being fully convinced it came from him.”
“Well?” I inquired, as she hesitated to go on.