He was glad enough to look for an escape, and ran with me through the kitchen. The door was secured by two stout wooden bars, and I had lifted one from its sockets and had my hand on the other, when a sudden uproar without told me that it was too late. I replaced the bar, surrendering that last hope with a sickened heart. Then I ran back into the hall, just in time to see the outer door yield and the rioters pour into the entry. Pierrot was borne back into a lower room, and the way was unobstructed. With a yell of triumph, they came on. The stairs were high and narrow, and with a bound I reached them, and drawing my pistol, stood across their path. For an instant the tide was stayed, and the ringleaders halted; but the crowd behind, pushing into the narrow hall, sent them forward again. As they came up the first steps I fired twice, and two ruffians falling on top of each other, there was another pause. This gave me time to draw my sword; in another moment one of the leaders fell before me. Few men in France cared to measure swords with me, and certainly few would have dared upon that narrow stair. The rioters began to howl like baffled animals, and I kept the stair, but it could not be for long. I heard Ramodanofsky coming, and he joined me; but the sight of him drove them beyond the limit of fear. “Traitor!” they bellowed; “a liar! a disguised aristocrat! down with him!” And they poured up the staircase until it shook beneath their weight. I fought in that moment as I never fought before, and two more devils fell, before a blow from a spear stunned me, and I was borne down and trampled under foot. All the rest was lost in the blackness of unconsciousness. CHAPTER XXX. A SOLEMN BETROTHAL. WHEN I came to myself again, I was lying on a couch, and the first eyes that I met were the tearful ones of Zénaïde, for she was standing beside me. For the moment, my mind was too confused to recall anything that had happened, and I looked wonderingly from her face to Pierrot, who stood at the foot of my couch, his head tied up so that one eye was obscured. Then, as through a mist, I saw Mademoiselle Eudoxie holding a bandage, while a strange man finished binding my arm. “Where am I?” I murmured faintly, and at the moment, mademoiselle standing back, I saw the short, ill-proportioned figure and large head of the great czarevna. Then my mind cleared, and I glanced about me, and beheld the deathlike face of Ramodanofsky. He was stretched upon another couch, and even in my first bewilderment, I knew that he was dying. Zénaïde was standing between us, her sweet face full of pain. Prince Galitsyn sat on the other side of the boyar, holding his hand and listening to him. The full recollection of the horrible scene swept over me, and I looked up into Zénaïde’s blue eyes. “How were you saved?” I asked.