“During a reconnaissance near Lucknow, which I had undertaken with my regimental staff and a small escort, my own carelessness led us into an ambuscade set by the English, which cost most of my companions their lives. At the beginning of the encounter a shot in the back had unhorsed me. I was taken for dead, and those few of my companions who were able to save themselves by flight had no time to take the fallen with them. After lying for a long time unconscious, I saw, on awaking, a number of armed Indians plundering the dead and wounded. One of the brown devils approached me. When he saw me lifting myself up to grasp my revolver, he rushed upon me brandishing his sword. I parried the first thrust at my head with my right arm. Defenceless as I was, I was already prepared for the worst. But at the moment, when the rascal was lifting up his arm for another thrust, he reeled backwards and collapsed without uttering a sound. It was Georgi, who had saved my life by a well-directed shot. “She had accompanied the dragoons sent from our camp to recover the dead and wounded, and had got considerably in advance of the horsemen. Hence it had been possible for her to save me. “I was too weak to ask her many questions, and my memory is a blank as to the few moments of this meeting. “For a week I lay between life and death. Then my iron constitution triumphed. You can imagine, my dearest friend, how great my desire was to see Georgi again. But she was no longer in the camp, and no one could tell me where she was. She disappeared again as suddenly as she had appeared on that day. This time I must make up my mind to the conviction that I have lost her for ever. While on my sick bed I received a command to repair to St. Petersburg. At the same time I was highly flattered to learn that I had been promoted, and as soon as my condition permitted it, I started on my journey. “Pardon me, dear friend, for lingering so long over a personal matter, which, after all, can have very little interest for you.