"No, indeed, my Lord. As I say, it is a good thing your men were in the way. They have saved his life," said Max, gathering his master into his arms. "Before they tell you more may we carry him to bed, and stop this bleeding?" CHAPTER XIX THE DESPAIR OF VRONSKY Old men love, while young men die. --RUDYARD KIPLING. The Governor, his daughter, and Miss Forester were all at breakfast, in a charming room into which the sunshine was streaming, when, unannounced, Vronsky staggered into the room, a piteous figure. The pallor of fever was still upon him; his eyes were wild, his demeanor agitated. He greeted nobody; his usually courtly manners had deserted him completely. His head fell upon his chest as he sank down on a chair, ejaculating hoarsely, "My boy! I have lost my boy!" The three breakfasting rose simultaneously to their feet. The Governor looked disconcerted, Miss Forester as though amused, and ashamed that she should feel amused; and Nadia's eyes were swimming with tears of pure pity. They had but that moment been speaking of Felix, and Stepan Stepanovitch had been impressing upon them both the absolute necessity of complete reticence at present. He had not confided to the ladies the plight in which the young man had returned to the castle. They only knew that he had returned, and that he was resting--under lock and key, as the Governor had threatened! But, as it happened, Miss Forester had heard more. She knew that Felix had been wounded, though the wound was quite superficial. She knew other things as well--things she must not let the young girl know. They all simulated astonishment; sympathy they had no need to simulate. For it would have been a hard-hearted woman who was not moved by the extremity of Vronsky's trouble. "He was everything to me--my whole future--and if they have taken him," he vowed, "I will spend the rest of my life and my fortune in hunting down and torturing every member of that vile Brotherhood as if they were vermin." "But give me all the details," said Stepan Stepanovitch. He had been displeased at the dramatic action of his subordinates in placing the corpse of Streloff in the tarantasse. But nothing, as a matter of fact, could more completely have put not only Vronsky, but others, off the scent. Vronsky explained, in shaken tones. He told how Streloff had behaved the previous day; how his suspicions had been awakened; how the great, strong Hutin had been told off to watch the spy; how the spy had managed to drug Hutin's coffee, and had got off unseen between nine and ten in the evening. He told how he had been asleep, for the first time in forty-eight hours, and how his own servant had declined to allow him to be disturbed by Hutin upon a matter of business; and how an hour later he had started up out of his slumbers, at sound of the maddened horses dashing into the yard.