"As for me, I was taken to a house in the Kremlin in which your friend is quartered, and thither he came, presently, and found me awaiting his pleasure, which, it seemed, was to answer to him at the sword's point for my presumption in posing as your protector in Moscow; at any rate, I could learn no other reason for his particular animosity against me. You may believe that I was charmed to meet his wishes even though he had not assured me, which he did many times, that I might thank my stars I had not been left by him with my fellow conspirators; for it seems Napoleon had himself condemned them to instant death, giving the order, so your French friend said, carelessly over his left shoulder as though the talk were of drowning so many rats. Well, we fought, and there is my disgrace, for though I thought I could fence, the fellow had me at his mercy with many French tricks which I had never seen. Doubtless he could have ended me several times over, but he forbore. I am ashamed and disgraced, Vera, I have come home beaten like a dog that slinks into his kennel after a thrashing. There is excuse for me, but I do not claim it--strange, foreign swords to fight with, the shock of my companions' deaths, the uncertainty whether, if I fell savagely upon the man and bore him down by sheer stress, I should not injure a dear heart at home which perhaps held his life as a precious thing." Vera laughed hysterically. "Who knows," she cried, "perhaps the same generous consideration held his hand also!" "Ah, you mock me; well, beaten and disgraced I am, and it is useless to conceal the truth. Yes, he withheld his hand, he could have given me the point a dozen times while I never touched him, not once. There is worse behind. He made me promise, under threat to send me back to his master to share the fate of my fellows, that I would give you a detestable message. Please do not blame me, Vera, I cannot help it, for the promise was given. Before giving it I fell upon him furiously, and it was thus I received this wound in my sword-arm, which incapacitated me. I was to say that he returned to you a spoilt lover, but perhaps good enough for one who could not tell a man from a moujik." Vera's eyes flashed and her bosom heaved. "Is that all?" she asked. "Not quite. I must say all he bade me tell you. Tell her, he said, that next time man meets moujik matters will end less happily for the moujik; she had better send him out of Moscow, there is less danger for him without than within the walls." "If you had killed him for that speech, I could not have blamed you, my friend," answered Vera. "When I see him I will tell him something."