"And was soaked to the skin; the reason why, 'only for this night positively,' as the play-bills have it, I appear in the uniform of the Imperial Rifle Militia, after finding my way here by the happiest chance in the world," I added, with a glance at his smiling sister. "Marshal Canrobert--" "Has fallen back with his slender force from Kokoz. You had a despatch for him, I presume, by what fell from you at the Tartar caravanserai?" "Precisely." "Ah, I thought as much." "I should not have been touring so far from our own lines else. It concerned, I believe--if I may speak of it--an _émeute_ among the Poles in Sebastopol." "A false rumour spread by some deserters; there was no such thing; and be assured that our good father, the Emperor, is too much beloved, even in Poland, to be troubled by disaffection again." Volhonski now threw off his great coat, and appeared in the handsome full uniform of the Vladimir Infantry, on a lapel of which he wore, among other orders, the military star of St. George the Victorious, which is only bestowed by the Czar, for acts of personal bravery, like our Victoria Cross. "How came you to know of me and of my despatch?" I inquired, while Yourivitch replaced the wine and some other refreshments on the table. "I had Menschikoff's express orders to watch, with a sotnia of Cossacks, Canrobert's flying column on the Kokoz road; and the Tartars were prompt enough in telling me of _your_ movements--at least of the appearance of an officer of the Allies, where, in sooth, he had no right to be. But, my friend, you look pale and weary." "He has no less than three lance-wounds!" urged Valerie. "Three!" "In the arms and shoulder." "This is serious; but take some more of the Crimskoi--it is harmless wine. Excuse me, Captain Hardinge, but of course you are aware how dangerous it is for you to remain long here?" "I have no intention of remaining a moment absent from my duty, if I can help it!" said I, energetically. "So we must get you smuggled back to your own lines somehow--unless you consent to become a prisoner of war." "I have already given my parole of honour." "Indeed! to whom?" "To the Hospoza Volhonski," said I, laughing. "More binding, perhaps, than if given to me; yet as I don't wish to avail myself of your promises to Valerie, but for the memory of past times," he added, with a pleasant smile, "to see you safe among your friends, I must contrive some plan to get you hence without delay." "Why such inhospitable haste?" asked Valerie. "Think of the peril to him and to us of being discovered here--and in that dress, too!" "I fear I shall not be able to ride for days," said I, despondingly, as sensations of lassitude stole over me.