“Help, help!” shrieked the generals, choked with laughter. “Blow out the light so they can slip her away! Hold our foreheads! Help! Will you have a little pull of a tobacco pipe, mademoiselle?” “Go to the deuce! Can’t I sit in peace!” answered Lina Andersdotter. There was one thing, though, that Ogilvy skillfully concealed so that the laughers should not turn to him and nudge him in the ribs and pull his coat-tails and say: “Oho, little father, you’ve got into water too deep for your bald head. Bless you, little father, bless you and your little mishap!” He pretended always to treat her with slightly indifferent familiarity, but he never sat so near her that his dog could not jump up between them. He never took hold of her so that anyone saw it, and never either when no one saw it, for then he knew that her hand would catch him on the face so that the glove would split and the red shine out in all its strength. It was enough that, notwithstanding, she now and then gave him a slap in the middle of the face, and no one did she snub worse than him. But at all that he only laughed with the others, so that never before had there been in the camp such a clamor and bedlam. Sometimes he thought of knouting her, but he was ashamed before the others, because everything could be heard through the tent, and he feared that they then would the more easily guess how things stood and how little he got along with the girl. Wait, he thought, we shall be sitting alone sometime under lock and key. Just wait! Till then things may go on as they do. “Help, help!” shouted the generals. “That’s how she carries her train. We must take hold of it. Lord, lord, no; but just look!” “Take it up, you,” said she. “Take it up, you. That’s what you are for.” And so the generals were cuffed and bore her train, both when she came to the table and when she went. Then it happened one evening when she sat among the drinking old men that an adjutant stepped in, hesitating and embarrassed. He turned to Ogilvy. “Dare I be frank?” “Naturally, my lad.” “And whatever I say will be forgiven?” “By my honor. Only speak out!” “The czar is on his way out to the camp.” “Very good, he is my gracious lord.” The adjutant pointed at Lina Andersdotter. “The czar has a fancy for tall brunettes,” said Ogilvy. “Your Excellency, in these last days he has changed his taste.” “God! Call the troops to arms--and forward with the three-horse wagon!” Now the alarm was struck. Drums rolled, trumpets shattered, weapons clattered, and shouts and trampling filled the night. The drinking party was broken up, and Lina Andersdotter was set in a baggage-wagon. Beside the peasant who was driving, a soldier sprang up with a lighted lantern, and she heard the peasant softly inquire of him the purpose of the flight. “The czar,” answered the soldier in a monotone and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the girl.