"Yes, if you don't leave your skin up there-- If I fall, Hippolyte,
and you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the
countess."

"Agreed!" cried the grenadier.

They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which
had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river.
A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow,
and the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above
the heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet
that their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his
anvil. The generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier
was safe and sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a
bayonet in his shoulder; but he clung to his horse's mane, and clasped
him so tightly with his knees that the animal was held as in a vice.

"God be praised!" cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and
the carriage in its place.

"If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this,"
said the man. "We've played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can
tell you."

"We have done nothing yet-- Harness the horses. Take these ropes."

"They are not long enough."

"Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen,