"Where is my brother?" exclaimed Vladimir; "where is he to whom we are indebted for all this glory?" No one could give any information respecting Dmitri. In the tumult he had disappeared. Sadly the chieftains dispersed over the plain to search for him among the dead. After a long exploration, two soldiers found him in the midst of a heap of the slain. Stunned by a blow, he had fallen from his horse, and was apparently lifeless. As with filial love they hung over his remains, bathing his bloody brow, he opened his eyes. Gradually he recovered consciousness; and as he saw the indications of triumph in the faces of his friends, heard the words of assurance that he had gained the victory, and witnessed the Russian banners all over the field, floating above the dead bodies of the Tartars, in a transport of joy he folded his hands upon his breast, closed his eyes and breathed forth a fervent, grateful prayer to God. The princes stood silently and reverently by, as their sovereign thus returned thanks to Heaven. Joy operated so effectually as a stimulus, that the prince, who had been stunned, but not seriously wounded, mounted his horse and rode over the hard-fought field. Though thousands of the Russians were silent in death, the prince could count more than four times as many dead bodies of the enemy. According to the annals of the time, a hundred thousand Tartars were slain on that day. Couriers were immediately dispatched to all the principalities with the joyful tidings. The anxiety had been so great, that, from the moment the army passed the Don, the churches had been thronged by day and by night, and incessant prayers had ascended to heaven for its success. _No_ language can describe the enthusiasm which the glad tidings inspired. It was felt that henceforth the prosperity, the glory, the independence of Russia was secured for ever; that the supremacy of the horde was annihilated; that the blood of the Christians, shed upon the plain of Koulikof, was the last sacrifice Russia was doomed to make. But in these anticipations, Russia was destined to be sadly disappointed. Mamai, the discomfited Tartar chieftain, overwhelmed with shame and rage, reached, with the wreck of his army, one of the great encampments of the Tartars on the banks of the Volga. A new khan, the world-renowned Tamerlane, now swayed the scepter of Tartar power. Two years were devoted to immense preparations for the new invasion of Russia. Suddenly and unexpectedly, Dmitri was informed that the Tartars were approaching in strength unprecedented. Russia was unprepared for the attack, and terror congealed all hearts. The invaders, crossing the Volga and the Oka, pressed rapidly towards Moscow.