No sooner had I entered on my new duties than I determined to start immediately with my squadron to protect Countess L——’s flight. But General C——, at the head of the Russian garrison from Kielce, never ceased pursuing and attacking us, harassing our march day and night; so that it was not for fifteen days after my departure from the castle that I was enabled to carry out my plan. My troops, who always saw me with a frown, which I had adopted to keep them at a greater distance, had nicknamed me “Michael the Sombre,” and I signed all orders in that name.
After repeated marches and counter-marches we managed at last to escape from our enemies, and arrived one evening at Syez after a forced march of ten hours, I encamped my men in a field about twenty minutes from the castle, whither I galloped, accompanied only by my orderly, whom I left at the outer gates to keep watch, while I asked an audience of Countess L—— for “Michael the Sombre.” A footman admitted me directly without recognizing me in the least, and took me into a room where a lamp with a dark-green globe prevented any object from being easily distinguished. Overcome with fatigue, I threw myself into an arm-chair. I was full, however, of thankful emotion. God had indeed heard my prayer and brought me back in safety to be the preserver of those whom I held so dear. The door opened; the countess and her sister appeared, and began by the usual formal words of welcome and courtesy, asking me to be seated—for I had, of course, risen on their entrance. As I did not answer, and continued looking at them with my eyes full of tears, they suddenly looked up too, and, with a joint cry, threw themselves into my arms. I had suffered terribly from hunger, cold, and fatigue during the past fortnight; but that moment of intense joy made me forget everything. Five minutes after I was surrounded by all the children; the youngest had scrambled up on my knees and thrown her arms tightly around my neck; Sophia had seized my helmet, and, putting it on before the glass, compared herself to Minerva. Stanislas had unhooked my sword, and Stephen was trying to take off my spurs. Half the night was spent in telling one another all that had passed in that eventful fortnight; and although I made light of my difficulties and position, yet I saw that the poor countess could hardly bear to realize what I must still go through before I was released from my command.
This, however, was not a moment for doubt or hesitation. It was necessary to move immediately before the Russian spies could give the alarm; so that by daybreak the following morning the countess’ carriage, escorted by my flying column, started on the road to the frontier. Fortunately, we were not molested on the way, and, when we arrived at about a quarter of a mile from Myszkow, I halted my soldiers, and, putting on the ordinary dress of a civilian, I accompanied the ladies to the station and busied myself with their passports, tickets, and baggage with all the feverish anxiety of one who strove to forget the terrible ordeal through which I had yet to pass before I should be able to rejoin them. When the train came up I brought the ladies out on the platform, and, having procured a special compartment for them, made them get into it with the children. Then at last I could breathe freely. No one had discovered them—they were safe! “Adieu!” I exclaimed, as I shook hands with them at the carriage-door. “You are now out of danger, for which I thank God with my whole heart. You will tell the count that I have fulfilled my promise to him, will you not? And you will not forget me?” I added with a faltering voice.
They looked at me as if stupefied. “But, Mika,” exclaimed the countess, “we cannot go without you! You must be joking. It is not possible for you to stay behind. What on earth is there to detain you?”
“You forget,” I replied as calmly as I could, “my promise to the dying general; my vow to remain with his troops until replaced, if he would only grant me this escort; Poland, which I have sworn to defend.”
“But this is dreadful!” murmured the poor countess. “How can we enjoy our liberty, purchased at such a price?”
Mme. de I—— said nothing. She was as white as a sheet; her hand tightened on mine, and she fixed her eyes on me as if she were turned into stone. More fully than the countess did she realize the full peril of the position. I was broken-hearted; but, fearing lest this scene should attract the attention of the officials or of any Russian spies, I left the carriage-door under pretence of having forgotten something. When I returned the train was already moving out of the station. The countess rushed to the window and wrung my hand convulsively for the last time. She could not speak. My eyes followed the receding train with a feeling of despair in my heart. It was carrying off all I loved best on earth, and I was alone. All of a sudden I heard my name called out with a cry of anguish from the carriage, and then, I think, for a moment I lost consciousness, as if struck by lightning, and remained motionless and stunned. Till that moment I had not realized the full bitterness of the sacrifice. I woke from this kind of stupor to hear voices in hot dispute behind me. I turned round and saw a Polish soldier, covered with dust and in a tattered uniform, struggling with two of the porters of the railroad, who were trying to stop him.
“What do you want to do?” I exclaimed. “Who are you looking for?”
“Michael the Sombre,” replied the soldier.
“I am the man,” I replied quietly, drawing him aside out of the station to a part of the road where we could talk without being heard.