"All right, grenadier, just go and overhaul those fellows sleeping
there; take their shawls, sheets, anything--"

"I say! the rascal is dead," cried the grenadier, as he plundered the
first man who came to hand. "Why, they are all dead! how queer!"

"All of them?"

"Yes, every one. It looks as though the horseflesh _a la neige_ was
indigestible."

Philip shuddered at the words. The night had grown twice as cold as
before.

"Great heaven! to lose her when I have saved her life a score of times
already."

He shook the Countess, "Stephanie! Stephanie!" he cried.

She opened her eyes.

"We are saved, madame!"

"Saved!" she echoed, and fell back again.

The horses were harnessed after a fashion at last. The major held his
sabre in his unwounded hand, took the reins in the other, saw to his
pistols, and sprang on one of the horses, while the grenadier mounted
the other. The old sentinel had been pushed into the carriage, and lay