fields, guided by the lights in the farmhouses, and at nine o'clock,
having passed the frontier, they stumbled upon a post of Cossacks
ambuscaded behind a hedge!

Unfortunately, at that time the Franco-Russian alliance was still in
embryo, and an agreement between the two neighboring States interdicted
all passage to Frenchmen escaping from the hands of their conquerors.
The two deserters were therefore conducted to the major of the nearest
garrison, who alone had the right to question them.

As soon as they were in his presence, Henri could not restrain a start of
surprise, for he recognized Constantin Lenaieff, one of his adversaries
on the fatal night of the Freres-Provencaux.

"Who are you?" demanded the Major, brusquely.

"A dealer in Belgian cattle, purveyor to the German intendant," hazarded
the prisoner, who had his reply all prepared.

"You--nonsense! You are a French officer; that is plain enough to be
seen, in spite of your disguise."

The Major advanced a step in order to examine the prisoner more closely.

"Good heavens!" he muttered, "I can not be mistaken--"

He made a sign to his soldiers to retire, then, turning to Henri, he
said:

"You are the Marquis de Prerolles!" and he extended his hand cordially to