Disguised in peasant clothes, in case of meeting some marauding
Cossacks, he wandered a couple of weeks before he came upon a village
occupied by a regiment of Polish cavalry on outpost duty.

"On a bench, before a peasant hut of a better sort, sat an elderly
officer whom he took for the colonel. The Prince approached
respectfully, told his story shortly and stated his desire to enlist;
and when asked his name by the officer, who had been looking him over
carefully, he gave on the spur of the moment the name of his dead
companion.

"The elderly officer thought to himself: Here's the son of some peasant
proprietor of the liberated class. He liked his appearance.

"'And can you read and write, my good fellow?'he asked.

"'Yes, your honour, I can,' said the Prince.

"'Good. Come along inside the hut; the regimental adjutant is there. He
will enter your name and administer the oath to you.'

"The adjutant stared very hard at the newcomer but said nothing. When
all the forms had been gone through and the recruit gone out, he turned
to his superior officer.

"'Do you know who that is?'

"'Who? That Peter? A likely chap.'

"'That's Prince Roman S---------.'