der as became an
officer and a gentleman. And as I have seen a hundred times and known
of a thousand times, the coolness of his courage was his shield and
breastplate; for no man among the Russians could slay so brave a man.
Even the murmuring among our own men at his holding the drawbridge
down ceased, when they saw Gaston Cheverny standing at salute as if
the king were passing.

I knew instantly why Gaston Cheverny waited, in such imminent peril;
it was for Francezka Capello, and, incidentally, Madame Riano. It was
but a scant five minutes by Count Saxe's watch that he had to wait for
them, but it was the longest five minutes I had known for many a day.

CHAPTER VIII

OUR CITY OF REFUGE

At last the rumbling of wheels was heard and a large traveling chaise
appeared. It was at once stopped by a Russian officer, but we saw that
he permitted Madame Riano to alight, and another person--a slim young
figure in a crimson mantle--and that, I knew, was Francezka Capello.

There was a parley between Madame Riano and the officer, but he
escorted her and Mademoiselle Capello to the drawbridge, Gaston
Cheverny standing his ground until the ladies were well in the
courtyard. Then he dismounted, and advancing, bent and whispered in
Mademoiselle Capello's ear, as she followed Madame Riano, who stalked
ahead. The Russian officer remained on the farther edge of the bridge.
I could not see Francezka's face clearly, as it was shaded by her
large black hat and she kept her eyes downcast. I think she was not
without embarrassment at the position in which she found herself, for
Madame Riano was insisting on accompanying Count Saxe in his retreat
to Uzmaiz. These were her words as she marched up to him:

"Well, Maurice of Saxe, I told you long ago, that this Courland
business was an egg that would never hatch. Lacy, the old fox, will
bag you yet, if you are not very sharp. I warned you to beware of
him--for he is a Scotchman, is Lacy--and his great-great aunt married
the wife's cousin of an ancestor of mine. However, I don't care to
trust myself to those blessed Russians and Courlanders, and I have
determined to cast my lot, and my niece's, and my man Peter, and my
two waiting maids, and my chaise, and my horses, with you."

Here was a pretty addition to men supposed to be in the lightest
possible marching order, and expecting to flee for their lives. I
never saw Count Saxe disconcerted by any woman except Madame
Riano--but