village, lest he should in his cups let slip any
unwary allusion.

The winter had now set in with much severity,
but Count Emmanuel did not return from St.
Petersburg. His letters were few, and cautiously
worded, as if the writer knew that they would
have to pass the ordeal of the Secret Scrutiny
Bureau in the Russian post-office; but he spoke
of occasional interviews with the ministers and
the emperor, and of his hope that he might
soon be able to quit the metropolis. Of his son
he said little, and that little was cold and
artificially expressed; not that the count was without
paternal affection, but because of the strict
supervision under which he, as the father of a
"delinquent," was placed.

Emile could walk now, though not very
vigorously, nor was it deemed wise for him to
stir abroad. A proclamation had been largely
circulated in the province, offering a reward of
eight thousand roubles—four times the amount
first proposed—for the capture of the deserter
Oginski. So high a price would never have
been set on him, of course, but that he was a
man of rank, and heir to a fine estate, which
could not legally be confiscated, unless he had
been tried and convicted of desertion and mutiny.
Emile, knouted and imprisoned in Siberia, would
lose his civil rights, and the state might inherit
at Count Emmanuel's decease; but Emile at
liberty and across the borders, could not be so
summarily disposed of. In such a case, the
Czar could only condemn him as
"contumacious," and the property would hereafter
be sequestrated, instead of permanently
confiscated.

The proclamation was affixed to trees, posted
up in markets, and made widely known, but all
in vain. Many of the greedier peasants and of
the Jewish inhabitants were rumoured to have
expressed a longing hope that such a prize
might fall in their way; but the labourers on the
Oginski estate tore down every one of the
detested placards within their reach, and the fierce
Slachsiz, or peasant nobles of the province, made
no secret of their intention to put to death any
traitor who might betray young Oginski into
Muscovite hands. Some such threat, ill written
and ill spelt, but penned in stern earnest, was to
be seen scrawled at the foot of every copy of
the manifesto that yet adhered to a wall or tree.

Yet I could not but agree with the countess,
that the earliest opportunity of getting the
young man safe over the frontier ought to be
embraced. How to effect this escape was not so
clear. Prussia was not far off, but the frontier
guards were on the alert, and so were prowling
detachments of Cossacks. Money, horses, and
a disguise, had to be provided; and we dared
not remove any horse from the castle lest the
grooms should suspect the reason.

Three months after Emile's arrival, on a crisp
frosty morning when the ice sparkled like flawed
crystals on every pool and runlet of water, and
the snow upon the dark pine-boughs gleamed
doubly white and pure in the sunlight, I set
off to walk to the lodge. No one in Poland
ever dreams of walking for mere pleasure. To
account for my being often afoot, I always
carried a gun, and occasionally shot a few
squirrels or hares. There was a good deal of
snow on the ground, and my footsteps made so
little noise, that two men, in close conversation
beside an enormous pile of rudely hewn logs,
did not observe my approach.

"Six out of the eight thousand roubles are
mine! Remember that! If I trap the bird, I
do not choose to be cheated of my fair share of
the roast, Isaac. The place is too good a
one to lose gratis; besides, I shall have made
Kalisch too hot to hold me."

It was Glittstein's voice. I bent forward,
and, cautiously peering round the corner of the
wood pile, beheld the worthy major-domo in
company with a red-bearded man in a Jewish
dress, but whose flat Tartar countenance matched
ill with his Hebrew robe. The latter drew out
a folded paper, cast a quick glance to left and
right, and handed the paper to Glittstein, saying,
in a coaxing tone, in German:

"There, there, excellent brother Glittstein—
be pacified, I pray you. Here is a promise
under the governor's own hand and seal. Six
thousand roubles, and promotion in the Warsaw
police office. You are to be a commissary, and
in the secret department, on the day when
Emile Oginski is brought before the court-
martial. Come, good friend, we mean fairly by
you. Do you, on your part, be ready to point
out the hiding-place of the young count. In an
hour, our men will be here."

I think the wretch said more, but I had heard
enough. I withdrew as silently as I had
approached, and hurried back to the house. In
five minutes, the countess knew all. Glittstein's
treachery was clear, and it was also evident that
by some means, perhaps by dogging his mistress,
or myself, or both, in our frequent visits to the
hut where the young man lay concealed, the false
major-domo had discovered the lurking-place.
There was little leisure for thought. In one
short hour the soldiery would arrive, and the
wood would be surrounded by armed men. The
countess bore the cruel tidings bravely, nerving
herself, for her son's sake, to be calm and
resolute.

"We might resist," she said, with a bright
but steady eye, glancing over the snow-
encumbered plains. "There are nine true Poles among
the servants, and Michael, and the four mowers,
and Karel the smith, and the tall sawyer and his
son, with Demetrius at the farm, and all the
quarrymen. Twenty-five good muskets, and a
breastwork of trees such as the axe would pile
up in half an hour, and Polish hearts behind it—
ah, no! my good, kind husband. Flight is the
only hope! Yet Emile is weak and ill yet—and
to fly alone"

"Not alone. I will go with him," I exclaimed;
"he is not strong enough to endure alone, but
with my help I think he may make shift. By
striking through the woods, in four hours'
time we may touch Prussian ground. The
horses—"