“Thus humbly and in accord with the simplicity of the vision of duty he saw when death had removed the brilliant bandage of happiness from his eyes, did Prince Roman bring his offering to his country. His companion made himself known as the son of the Master of-the-Horse to the Princes S--------- and declared him to be a relation, a distant cousin from the same parts as himself and, as people presumed, of the same name. In truth no one inquired much. Two more young men clearly of the right sort had joined. Nothing more natural. “Prince Roman did not remain long in the south. One day while scouting with several others, they were ambushed near the entrance of a village by some Russian infantry. The first discharge laid low a good many and the rest scattered in all directions. The Russians, too, did not stay, being afraid of a return in force. After some time, the peasants coming to view the scene extricated Prince Roman from under his dead horse. He was unhurt but his faithful companion had been one of the first to fall. The Prince helped the peasants to bury him and the other dead. “Then alone, not certain where to find the body of partizans which was constantly moving about in all directions, he resolved to try and join the main Polish army facing the Russians on the borders of Lithuania. Disguised in peasant clothes, in case of meeting some marauding Cossacks, he wandered a couple of weeks before he came upon a village occupied by a regiment of Polish cavalry on outpost duty. “On a bench, before a peasant hut of a better sort, sat an elderly officer whom he took for the colonel. The Prince approached respectfully, told his story shortly and stated his desire to enlist; and when asked his name by the officer, who had been looking him over carefully, he gave on the spur of the moment the name of his dead companion. “The elderly officer thought to himself: Here’s the son of some peasant proprietor of the liberated class. He liked his appearance. “‘And can you read and write, my good fellow?’he asked. “‘Yes, your honour, I can,’ said the Prince. “‘Good. Come along inside the hut; the regimental adjutant is there. He will enter your name and administer the oath to you.’ “The adjutant stared very hard at the newcomer but said nothing. When all the forms had been gone through and the recruit gone out, he turned to his superior officer. “‘Do you know who that is?’ “‘Who? That Peter? A likely chap.’ “‘That’s Prince Roman S---------.’ “‘Nonsense.’ “But the adjutant was positive. He had seen the Prince several times, about two years before, in the Castle in Warsaw. He had even spoken to him once at a reception of officers held by the Grand Duke. “‘He’s changed. He seems much older, but I am certain of my man. I have a good memory for faces.’ “The two officers looked at each other in silence. “‘He’s sure to be recognized sooner or later,’ murmured the adjutant. The colonel shrugged his shoulders.