Ivan Yourivitch and other Cossack servants, who had heard the loud voice of Tolstoff raised in undisguised anger, now appeared, and received some orders from him in Russian. In a moment they threw themselves upon Guilfoyle, disarmed, stripped him of his uniform, and bound him with a silken cord torn from the window-curtains. At first I was not without fears that they meant to strangle him with it, so prompt and fierce was their manner; but they merely tied his hands behind him, and thrust him into a closet, the door of which was locked, and the key given to the Pulkovnick. The latter, without deigning to take farther notice of me, turned on his heel and limped away, muttering anathemas in Russian; and I felt very thankful that he had not made me a close prisoner also, after the humiliating fashion to which he had subjected the wretched Guilfoyle. But he was not without secret and serious ulterior views regarding me. All remained still now in the great mansion after this noisy and sudden episode; and I heard no sound save once--the clatter of a horse's hoofs, which seemed to leave the adjoining stable-yard and die away, as I thought, in the direction of the Baidar Valley, where the Cossacks lay encamped; and somehow my heart naturally connected these circumstances and foreboded coming evil, as I sat alone in the recess of a window overlooking the terrace, and the same moonlighted scenery which Valerie had viewed from it so lately. CHAPTER LI.--FLIGHT. I was full of gloomy, perplexing, and irritating thoughts. "If I am to drag on my life for years perhaps as a Russian prisoner, better would it have been, O Lord, that a friendly shot had finished my career for ever. What have I now to live for?" I exclaimed, in the bitterness of my heart, as I struck my hands together. "You speak thus--you so young?" said Valerie, reproachfully yet softly, as she suddenly laid a hand on my shoulder, while her bright eyes beamed into mine--eyes that could excite emotion by emitting it. "Life seems so worthless." "Why?" she asked, in a low voice. "Can you ask me after what passed between us the other evening, and more especially on yonder terrace, less than an hour ago?" "But why is existence worthless?" "Because I have lost you!" (Had I not thought the same thing about Estelle, and deemed that "he who has most of heart has most of sorrow"?) "This is folly, dear friend," said she, looking down; "I never was yours to lose." "But you lured me to love you, Valerie; and now--now you would cast--nay, you have cast--my poor heart back upon itself!" "I lured you?" asked the gentle voice; "O unjust! How could I help your loving me?" "Perhaps not; nor could I help it myself." "Tell me truly--has this--this misplaced passion for me lured you from one who loves you well at home perhaps?" "From no one," said I, bitterly. "Thank Heaven for that; and we shall part as friends any way." "As friends only?" "Yes." "But you will ever be more to me, Valerie."