horse. He gave the letter to Ivan, who read it in a low voice and
tore it up. Meantime the rebels were preparing for an attack. Very
soon balls whistled about our ears, and arrows fell around us, buried
deep in the ground.

"Basilia," said the Captain, "women have nothing to do here; take away
Marie; you see the child is more dead than alive." Basilia, whom the
sound of the balls had rendered more yielding, glanced at the steppe
where much movement was visible, and said: "Ivan, life and death are
from God; bless Marie; come, child, to thy father."

Pale and trembling, Marie came and knelt, bending low before him. The
old Commandant made three times the sign of the cross over her, then
raising, kissed her, and said in a broken voice: "Oh! my dear Marie!
pray to God, he will never abandon thee. If an honest man seek thee,
may God give you both love and goodness. Live together as we have
lived; my wife and I. Adieu! my dear Marie! Basilia, take her away
quickly."

Marie put her arms around his neck and sobbed. The Captain's wife, in
tears, said: "Embrace us also; adieu, Ivan; if ever I have crossed
you, forgive me."

"Adieu! adieu! my dear," said the Commandant, kissing his old
companion. "Come! enough! go to the house, and if you have time dress
Marie in her best; let her wear a sarafan, embroidered in gold, as is
our custom for burial."

Ivan Mironoff returned to us, and fixed all his attention upon the
enemy. The rebels collected around their chief and suddenly began to