It was now quite dark, and the horizon was hidden. Here and there the darkness was pierced by the luminous points of some windows in the village which were still lit up. Suddenly there appeared in the street the red moving flame of torch and in the circle of light formed by it a red face wearing a pair of moustaches. At moments there also came to view in the same luminous circle a horse's head with its ears erect. "Panteleieff!" cried the Colonel in the direction of the torch. The torch entered into the courtyard, and soon the horse stood before the officers, snorting and scraping the hard snow with its hoofs. The Cossack who was riding it reversed his torch, and clouds of black smoke, rising heavily, surrounded his arm. "Where are you going like that?" "To the advance-posts, Colonel." "Why?" "The firing has begun again." "Go and tell them, that if it is nothing unusual, it is useless to reply. When the Turks are tired of throwing away ammunition, they will stop of themselves." Several soldiers entered the courtyard, stamping heavily. Panteleieff lifted his torch and it was seen that they had some one in their midst. "March on, march on, shaven pate! There is no chance of getting any rest with you fellows about; may the Devil take you!" the soldiers said, grumbling. It was evident that they were not yet aware of the officers' presence. "Well, well! Must we then encourage you with a butt-end?" "What is it, my children?" said the Colonel, rising. "We are bringing a Turk, Colonel. We met him by chance--picked him up under a bush." "Under a bush? How?" "He was crouched down like a quail. Lieutenant Vassilieff told us to take him alive and to bring him to you, Colonel. His name is Mahmoud." "Give us a light, Panteleieff." The Cossack held his torch near the group and the red light showed distinctly a face with a large nose and straggling grey moustaches. The nose had a lump in the middle; the reddish scar of a recent wound was visible on the forehead surmounted by a turban formed of a piece of dirty cloth snatched from some old tent. Mahmoud also wore a yellow cloak made of camel-skin. "Stop! Stop! he is an officer," said the Colonel, turning towards his friend. The Major looked at the Turk attentively. "Yes, and he is also an old acquaintance. Don't you recognize him. That scar to begin with, and I am sure he has two fingers missing from his left hand. Show us his left hand." The soldier who was standing next to Mahmoud took hold of his hand and held it up. "Yes, it is Mahmoud Bey, a Turkish Colonel. Prisoner and runaway; his account is settled. The general will probably have him shot. That depends on the mood he is in. It is a pity. Bring him here, my children. One of you stay with us; the rest go as quickly as possible." Mahmoud Bey was brought into the room next to the balcony. A soldier armed with a musket stationed himself on the threshold.