I called two of the pioneers, and told them to dig a separate grave for poor Charles, that his body might not fall into the enemy’s hands; and then, jumping on the horse of a Cossack who had just been killed, I threw myself again into the fray. All my strength had come back. I fought like one possessed; and this over-excitement lasted till I felt the cold steel going through me. A Cossack had thrust his lance into my left breast. I lifted up my heart to God for one moment, and then fell, pressing my crucifix convulsively. My orderly, seeing me fall, carried me off rapidly to a carriage which was already full of wounded men. Thanks to Father Benvenuto, who never ceased watching over me, I came back to life again and met the loving and sisterly eyes of Mother Alexandra, who again insisted on my sharing her cell. I was in great danger for five days, and, if I did not sink under my sufferings, it was owing to the devoted care of which I was the object. One night my secret was well-nigh discovered. Mother Alexandra had been called away to some other patient and had left me to the care of a young sister. My fever ran high, and, being delirious, I tore off the bandages from my wound and threw them away. Frightened at my state, the sister luckily ran to fetch Mother Alexandra, exclaiming: “Come as quickly as you can; the lieutenant is dying!” She flew back to me, and remained alone by my bedside. Her presence calmed me at once, and I allowed her to bandage me up again and stop the blood, which had burst out in streams from the wound.
In the same house we had forty-five wounded from this battle, wherein the Poles had displayed prodigies of valor. The Russian loss was very great, and if they were not altogether crushed, it was owing to their numerical superiority. As it was, they retired in good order, for we had not sufficient men to follow them in their retreat. When I was allowed to go out of my cell I went to see my comrades. I helped the sisters in dressing their wounds, and, when my strength would allow me, I used to read aloud to them as we sat round the stove. At the end of a month, out of forty-five wounded thirty-two were convalescent.
At the end of six weeks I felt myself strong enough to bear the motion of a horse, and so accepted a mission for my old general, who, by the orders of the Central Committee, came to take the command of the forces in the place of General Iskra, who had been condemned to death for high treason. As ill-luck would have it, on this occasion my usual good-fortune deserted me and I fell into the hands of a Russian patrol, who seized me, tied my hands behind my back, and marched me off to the little town of Kielce. As I was still very weak and walked with difficulty, they accelerated my march by blows from the butt-ends of their muskets. At Kielce I was taken straight to the headquarters of Gen. C——. All Polish soldiers who had fallen into the hands of this brute since the beginning of the war had been hanged. From the window, close to which I had been placed, I could see the gibbet, with two shapeless bodies hanging from it on which birds of prey were already feasting. The sight filled me with horror, and feeling sure this time that my last hour was at hand, I recommended my soul to God, made a fervent act of contrition, and prepared myself as well as I could to die.
The general came in for the usual interrogatory, and frowned when he looked at me.
“You are from the rebel army?” he exclaimed in bad Polish.
“I do not know any rebels,” I replied proudly. “I am of the army of the Crusaders.” (We called the war a Crusade, and all of us wore a white cross sewed on our uniforms.)
At this reply General C——’s face darkened and, with a furious gesture, he made a step toward me. “Do you know,” he cried, “to what fate you have exposed yourself by falling into my hands?”
“Yes, perfectly,” I replied, turning my head in the direction of the dead bodies.
“And you are not afraid?”
“No. I belong to a nation which does not know the feeling.”