"I do not; I consider myself justly absolved from my oath of service to the Emperor," answered Thaddeus. "But can you blame me, when I hesitate to turn my sword against my former brothers in arms, many bound to me by the ties of friendship?" "That you need never do," answered Ivan; "and henceforth, I shall hail you as my brother in arms; for Circassia has foes enough without numbering the few you can claim as friends. The fierce and daring Cossacks shall be your opponents, and along the banks of the Kouban, they will afford you abundance of opportunities of gaining credit and renown among us." "Press me not further on the subject, my friend," returned the Pole. "I have scarcely yet learned to consider myself as numbered among the living, so rapid and stunning has been my delivery from death. I have much to give me serious reflection." The two friends relapsed into silence for some time; for Ivan's thoughts were also deeply occupied with conjectures, vague, uncertain, yet full of hope, as to who was the brave chieftain, whose name he had heard, and whose noble bearing, heroic valour, stern and melancholy, yet courteous deportment had inspired him with feelings of love and admiration, such as his heart was unaccustomed to accord to others; but he could not yet bring himself to address him. As the party approached the beautiful village they had left the previous day, a group of bright and graceful forms was seen between the trees, waving garlands of flowers; their sweet voices singing songs of welcome and congratulation to the victorious warriors. The chiefs, throwing their reins to the squires, leaped from their steeds, as they reached the woodland glade, already mentioned as the romantic hall of assembly for the neighbourhood. The maidens advanced to meet the warriors, each anxious to welcome the most beloved of their gallant defenders; and still more lovely than all, came Ina, rushing with joy into the arms of her father. That one affectionate embrace of his child, was a full recompense to the heart of the noble hero, for all the risks and dangers of war. The wife and daughters of the chief of the hamlet came forward also to welcome him and his sons; and many a bashful maiden betrayed her hitherto concealed love for some gallant youth, in her joy at his safe return from battle. It was a highly interesting scene. Diana-like forms of women, clothed in coloured and richly ornamented robes, with long white veils floating gracefully from their heads; the shining and embossed armour, jewelled weapons, and tall plumes of the noble chiefs; the groups of high-mettled steeds, and bands of retainers, assembled on the verdant lawn, surrounded by the bright foliage of lofty trees and canopied by the blue vault of heaven; formed a picture, such as Titian or Rubens might have loved to paint. It reminded one of the romantic days of chivalry, now long since faded from all other lands but that of the heroic Atteghei.