“‘Very well,’ I replied. ‘When shall I start?’ “‘At daybreak. You must be in Vasilova by the day after to-morrow, otherwise he will have departed for Petersburg.’ “I announced my readiness to go, and he wrote the letter. At dawn I set out on horseback for Mikhailovitch’s, distant two days’ journey by road. Unsuspicious of any double dealing, I had not told Natiónka of my departure, for as I should only be absent four days I knew she would not feel any uneasiness. “It was not before noon that the suspicion crossed my mind that I had been sent on the errand for an ulterior purpose. Try how I would I could not get rid of the thought that I had left Natiónka unprotected. Indeed, a strange presage of evil seemed to possess me, forcing me at last to turn and ride with all speed back to Nagorskoie. The afterglow was in the sky when I spurred my horse into the village. Something unusual had evidently happened, for all the inhabitants had collected in the tiny market-place. “As I dismounted and turned the corner into the open space a shrill scream broke upon my ear. Looking round upon the white, scared faces of the assembled _moujiks_, I saw that the cause of the commotion was a public knouting. “Elbowing my way to the centre of the throng, I reached the whipping-post, where a scene of inhuman brutality met my eyes, causing the spirit of murder to enter my soul. “Stretched face downwards was the form of a woman, whose wrists and ankles were bound tightly to an inclined wooden frame. Her back was covered with blood, the flesh having been cut into strips by the thongs of the terrible knout, which, wielded by a brawny brutal servant of my father’s, was falling with monotonous regularity upon the victim. The Count, with folded arms, stood near, watching the torture with undisguised satisfaction. “At first I could not see the face of the unfortunate girl, but a few seconds later I recognised the colour of the hair and the distorted features. It was Natiónka! “Rushing forward with a wild cry I flung myself upon the man who was administering the horrible punishment. I was young and athletic, and succeeded in arresting the blow that was falling, an action which was regarded with approval by the crowd of indignant but trembling serfs. “‘You have no right here,’ cried the Count, white with rage. ‘Return to the house at once!’ “‘What is the meaning of this?’ I demanded fiercely. ‘What has she done?’ “‘It is no business of yours. The wench is insubordinate; to-morrow she starts for Siberia.’ “‘She will not. She is my wife,’ I cried. “‘I am well aware of that,’ he answered coldly. Then, turning to the grinning brute who had been interrupted, he added, ‘Ivan, give her the death-blow.’ “I knew that if the knout fell it would prove fatal. The death-blow seldom fails to despatch the victim. Springing towards him I endeavoured to arrest the stroke. “But too late! The heavy leaden-weighted thongs struck the insensible girl with a noise like a pistol-shot.