were about to cut
all their throats, when suddenly a man came galloping up, followed by a
few soldiers. He struck right and left with his scimitar in the thick of
the crowd outside, and reached the doorway, causing his horse to rear up
on the pavement. He slays some, and terrifies all. The Christians are
saved!

This cavalier with his scimitar was my uncle, who was then in command of
the province. The unhappy wretches who had escaped assassination pressed
about him, and surrounded him; the girls and the women threw themselves
at his feet. My aunt was one of these unfortunates; she was then fifteen
years old, and as beautiful as noonday. You may guess how her
imagination was wrought on by the sight of this noble saviour. My uncle
on his side was thunderstruck by the contemplation of so much beauty.
Having to judge and punish the rebels, he established his head-quarters
in the castle of the Cornalis. He sentenced twenty persons to death, and
demanded Eudoxia's hand in marriage. This, notwithstanding his
gratitude, the father refused to grant to a Turkish general.

The lovers were desperate, and separated, exchanging vows of eternal
fidelity. Finally, after three months of correspondence and clandestine
meetings, an elopement ensued, followed up quickly by marriage. It was
as the sequence of this event that my uncle, induced by love, and
moreover disgraced again for having exercised too much justice in favour
of the Christians, finally quitted the service of the Sultan. His pardon
by the Cornalis followed, and it was at this time that he obtained from
the Pope the title of Count of the Holy Empire.

All this will serve to explain to you how it is that my aunt, as an
heiress of great wealth, possesses in her own right a very large
independent fortune in the Crimea.

We have now been living together for a fortnight, and during this time
Ferouzat has been completely transformed. My aunt Eudoxia is certainly
very _meublante_, as my uncle calls it, and she has brought into the
house quite an attractive element of brightness. She has naturally
introduced into our circle a certain amount of etiquette, which does
not, however, encroach upon the liberties of country life, or disturb
that easy-going elegance which forms one of the charms of existence
among well-bred people. The Countess of Monteclaro, as might well have
been foreseen, having already been intimately acquainted with Doctor
Morand, begins to take a most friendly