"No, papa," said Marie, "I am more afraid by myself in the house." She
glanced at me, and tried to smile. I pressed my sword, remembering
that I had received it from her on the preceding eve, as if for her
defense. My heart was on fire. I fancied myself her knight, and
longed to prove myself worthy of her trust. I awaited the decisive
moment impatiently.

Suddenly coming from behind a hill, eight versts from the fortress,
appeared new groups of horsemen, and soon the whole steppe was covered
by men armed with lances and arrows. Amongst them, wearing a scarlet
cafetan, sword in hand, could be distinguished a man mounted on a
white horse. This was Pougatcheff himself. He halted, was surrounded
by his followers, and very soon, probably by his orders, four men
left the crowd and galloped to our ramparts. We recognized among
them our traitors. One of them raised a sheet of paper above his cap
and another carried on the point of his lance Zoulac's head, which he
threw to us over the palisade. The poor Kalmouk's head rolled at the
feet of the Commandant.

The traitors shouted to us: "Do not fire, come out and receive the
Czar. The Czar is here."

"Fire!" shouted the Captain as sole reply.

The soldiers discharged their pieces. The Cossack who held the letter,
tottered and fell from his horse; the others fled. I glanced at Marie.
Petrified by horror at the sight of the Kalmouk's head, dizzy from the
noise of the discharge, she seemed lifeless. The Commandant ordered
the Corporal to take the letter from the hand of the dead Cossack.
Ignatius sallied out and returned, leading by the bridle the man's