While lying there, receiving an occasional kick from the passing soldiers, who had long since stripped me of my splendid arms, armour, and ornaments, how terrible were my thoughts when the fierce, rough, and merciless Cossacks proceeded to open a trench beside me, and dug it deep to receive the dead. I endeavoured to stifle reflection, believing that my last hour had come; and after praying--for prayer is the pillar of religion, even as the sword is the true key of paradise--I bent my thoughts upon Basilia, who was far away at Soudjack Kaleh, and seated then perhaps in her rose garden, fanning herself with feathers, and weeping for the poor Osman she would never again behold on earth. At last the grave was finished, and one by one the dead were flung therein, and laid in rows head and foot alternately; how heavily they fell, with their lifeless limbs and clanking accoutrements! Suddenly I felt myself seized by the neck and heels, and before I could utter a sound, they flung me into that ghastly trench on the gashed and bloody heap below, and then the shovelled earth flew fast over me. "Stop--halt!" cried Ivan Carlovitch, who was sitting on the sward close by, smoking a magnificent pipe; "by St. George, that uppermost Tcherkesse is alive yet!" "A matter easily repaired, my colonel!" said a Russian, raising his shovel like a battle-axe to cleave my head. "Beware, I say!" thundered Carlovitch, and at his voice the bearded soldiers cowered like slaves before a king; "fling him out, lay him on the sward, and bring here a canteen of quass." This sharp, bitter draught revived me, and my native pride coming to my aid, I stood erect, and boldly confronted the imperialist. "Who the devil are you?" he asked I replied, proudly,-- "Osman Rioni, the son of Mostapha. I might have concealed my rank, but I scorn to lie, even unto a race of liars." Joy flashed in the cruel and cunning eyes of Carlovitch at this announcement; his surprise and satisfaction at the importance of his third prisoner were too great to leave space for anger at my speech. He smiled, and said,-- "Tcherkesse, your wants and your wounds, if you have any, shall be faithfully and kindly attended to; when in better humour I shall see you again, having a little message to you from the emperor. Take him away." I was conducted to an ancient tomb, under the dome of which I found a Cossack guard, surrounding my two brothers Selim and Karolyi, with several other Circassians, who were all suffering more or less from wounds or scorches ha the explosion. All were dejected, and my appearance among them increased their unhappiness. We communed in whispers, and formed our plans for flight on the first opportunity.