umn across the vast snow-plain. The sun had sunk, but
still in the long northern twilight we pursued our weary journey. Numbed
and frozen, with my head aching from the blows it had received, I was
borne onward by Violette, hardly conscious of where I was or whither I
was going. The little mare walked with a sunken head, only raising it to
snort her contempt for the mangy Cossack ponies who were round her.

But suddenly the escort stopped, and I found that we had halted in the
single street of a small Russian village.

There was a church on one side, and on the other was a large stone
house, the outline of which seemed to me to be familiar. I looked around
me in the twilight, and then I saw that we had been led back to Dobrova,
and that this house at the door of which we were waiting was the same
house of the priest at which we had stopped in the morning. Here it
was that my charming Sophie in her innocence had translated the unlucky
message which had in some strange way led us to our ruin. To think that
only a few hours before we had left this very spot with such high hopes
and all fair prospects for our mission, and now the remnants of us
waited as beaten and humiliated men for whatever lot a brutal enemy
might ordain! But such is the fate of the soldier, my friends--kisses
to-day, blows to-morrow. Tokay in a palace, ditch-water in a hovel, furs
or rags, a full purse or an empty pocket, ever swaying from the best to
the worst, with only his courage and his honour unchanging.

The Russian horsemen dismounted, and my poor fellows were ordered to
do the same. It was already late, and it was clearly their intention
to spend the night in this village. There were great cheering and joy
amongst the peasants when they understood that we had all been taken,
and they flocked out of their houses with flaming torches, the women
carrying out tea and brandy for the Cossacks. Amongst others the old
priest came forth--the same whom we had seen in the morning. He was all
smiles now, and he bore with him some hot punch on a salver, the reek of
which I can remember still. Behind her father was Sophie. With horror
I saw her clasp Major Sergine's hand as she congratulated him upon the
victory he had won and the prisoners he had made. The old priest, her
father, looked at me with an insolent face and made insulting remarks
at my expense, pointing at me with his lean and grimy hand. His fair
daughter Sophie looked at me also, but she said n