nd knew
perfectly well how to take care of themselves--nay, how to make
themselves at ease, as far as their circumstances permitted. It is,
after all, a wonderful thing that man does not seem able to rid
himself wholly of either sense or virtue. These rogues were brave, and
as Count Saxe anticipated, they kept their word scrupulously about
their prisoners.

As soon as my eyes became accustomed to the glare of light, I looked
about me for Francezka, but saw no sign of either her or Gaston
Cheverny. Schnelling walked up to a man in a colonel's uniform, and
saluting, said:

"Colonel Pintsch, this gentleman, Captain Babache, brings you ten
thousand crowns, with the compliments of Count Saxe, and is prepared
to receive the prisoners."

Colonel Pintsch--whether he was a colonel or not, I never knew--bowed
politely, and said:

"I am ready to deliver the prisoners on the spot and to receipt for
the money."

I thought it best to hand the money over at once, knowing if they
wished to play us false it was as easy to do it at one time as
another; for it was clear that we could not undertake to return until
daylight came to assist us. We were obliged to trust them partly, and
I thought it best to trust them wholly. Therefore I had my men bring
forward the two leathern bags. Colonel Pintsch wrote a receipt,
meanwhile gravely assuring me that the money would go to the defense
fund for Courland, and he would certainly inform General Bibikoff of
the whole affair. I listened, longing to throttle him, and he
concluded by saying to Schnelling:

"Show Captain Babache our guests."

Guests they were now, no longer prisoners. What rags of politeness
will sometimes cling to the worst of villains!

Schnelling led me a little way toward the edge of the open space,
where the forest closed in its dark ramparts. There was a kind of
screen formed by fir boughs stuck into the ground, and behind these a
smaller fire was blazing. Under a low hanging larch tree was a bed of
boughs, and on it lay Francezka, sleeping. The huge black cloak given
Gaston Cheverny by Count Saxe was thrown over her, covering her
completely, except her delicate, clear-cut face.

The young and the innocent always look like infants when they are
asleep. Although Francezka was then nearly sixteen, she looked like
the merest child, with her long lashes lying on her cheek, and the
little rings of damp hair on her forehead. I gazed upon her one moment
in rapture, and the