Here the countess interrupted in turn, hastily
informing me that the men-servants were all
gone to a wedding in the village, and that I
could remove two strong horses from the stable
without being observed. Even as she spoke,
she unlocked a cabinet, and drew out a heavy
purse of gold, which she had provided to aid
Emile's escape, and which she put into my hands,
with a thousand thanks and blessings, and fond
messages to her son, mingled with entreaties
that I would not lose an instant. I rushed
down stairs, catching up a whip as I passed the
hall, ran to the stable, and hastily saddled two
horses; the black which I usually rode, and a
fiery chesnut of great fleetness and power. My
fingers trembled so much that I could hardly
adjust the bridles. As I buckled the last strap,
the open door was filled by a dark figure—
Glittstein! I had just turned the chesnut in his
stall, and the eyes of the major-domo met mine,
and each of us read in the other's glance that
his secret was known.

An evil look came over Glittstein's face, and
he strode forward and snatched the bridle rudely
from my hand, saying:

"Nein, nein, Herr Englander; your pretty
little pleasure-trip is spoiled."

I have never clearly remembered how I did
it; but in a moment the spy lay grovelling on
the floor, with my foot on his breast. Glittstein
was a cowardly creature, and begged for mercy
in abject language. He offered no resistance
when I bound his hands tightly with an old
girth, tied him to one of the wooden pillars, and
bade him stir or speak at his peril. I then led
out the horses, closed the door, and mounted.
As I did so, my horse laid back his ears, snorted,
and pawed the earth, and the fiery chesnut
neighed long and shrill. To my dismay, the
neigh was answered by other horses afar off, and
then came a long wailing note of the Cossack
trumpet. The Czar's bloodhounds were before
the hour named for the rendezvous. I darted
into the wood, the led horse rearing and
plunging, and giving me some trouble. Looking
back, I saw a flash of steel between the trees
of the avenue, and I heard Glittstein, who had
probably caught the sound of the trumpet-call,
bawling in the stable, and roaring in German
and Russian for help.

Emile, when I arrived at the lodge, was not
much surprised by the sudden summons to fly.
He came to the door, accompanied by Michael
and his wife, both uttering exclamations of
alarm, while the children set up a wail of
terror.

"I have been expecting this for many a day
and night, doctor," said he, smiling. "I hope
to escape, if only for my poor mother's sake,
but in no case shall they take me alive. Give
me the pistols, Michael; I loaded them
yesterday. Farewell, Nurse Katrina! farewell,
Michael! and you, good doctor—you go with
me, you say? My mother ought not to have
asked so dangerous a service from you, Burton.
Those Cossacks are wolves when they scent
blood and plunder."

I assured him that my mind was made up. I
had promised, and even had I not promised,
I would not have abandoned him in his weak
state. He wrung my hand, and mounted
without further parley. Away we went along
the ride, the frozen snow cranching beneath
our feet, and the dry branches cracking.
Quick as we were, we had scarcely emerged
from the forest into a region of morass and
scrubby brushwood, beyond which gleamed,
iron grey, the frozen lake of Vartha, when a
long-drawn whoop rang through the frosty air,
and was followed by two or three twanging
notes of the trumpet, quick imperious calls
for stragglers to close up. Then, looking back,
we saw the whole troop of wild riders, some
sixty strong, come dashing over the heath
towards us, their lance-heads and gun-barrels
glittering in the rays of the wintry sun. We
doubled our speed.

"Steady, Burton, steady!" exclaimed young
Oginski. "A stumble may cost us our lives.
Beware of that green bit of ground where the
snow has thawed away; it is a bog that would
swallow a squadron, horse and man; keep to the
right. We must push for the causeway that
spans the morass, or we shall get to a creek
of the Vartha that cannot be crossed. The
ice would bear us, but the banks are rotten
and unsafe. A tight rein, and a keen eye
for deep drifts, and we shall sleep in Prussia
yet."

Emile had ridden with his greyhounds or his
gun over most of the country around, and his
knowledge of its localities did us infinite service.
At times he seemed at fault, but his memory
would soon revive, and he would recollect every
knoll and dyke of that difficult district. But fast
as we went, we could not shake off the pursuers.
It was impossible to help noticing, with a sort
of unwilling admiration, how warily and well
those wild horsemen made their way through the
broken ground, scenting danger with an instinct
that never erred. Their long habit of ranging
savage plains made them fully a match for
Emile's experience.

At Emile himself I looked with some anxiety.
I knew that he was weak, much weaker than
he would allow, that his left arm was stiff and
painful, and that he had lately shown symptoms
like those of incipient consumption. He was
pale, with a hectic spot on each cheek, and his
breath came short and with effort; but his eye
was bright and fearless, and he sat the fiery
chesnut like one bred to the saddle.

On we went, over rough and smooth, now
floundering through a snow-bank, now dashing
through such a collection of peat-bogs, moss-
grown stones, and the tough, gnarled roots of
furze and broom, as I should have been sorry
to have traversed in cold blood; and every
instant a stumble, which no care could avoid, all
but brought the horses to their knees. We
reached the causeway; a straight road,
embanked with rough stones, and built of
pine-logs and birchen fagots, with earth and
pebbles rammed into the interstices—a work