A month flew by.

XXII

From the window of an exquisite boudoir in her father's palace at Cracow, the beautiful Marina gazed wistfully at the thickly falling

snow.

'Come!' suddenly exclaimed our old friend Lise; 'your Imperial Tsarinaship has been very dull this morning. Can you think of nothing but your Paladin, Dmitri? I daresay he is putting to flight, at this very moment, at least six hundred miserable Muscovites, panic-stricken at the glare of his terrible black eyes!'

'They're not black; they're grey!' said Marina; and she was silent for a moment. 'Oh!' she exclaimed, coming back into the room; 'I wish he would write! Oh, Lise! you don't think he is killed?'

'Killed! How could he possibly be killed? They've nothing but bows and arrows to fight with, those poor Muscovites. Unless, perhaps, he gets frozen up in an iceberg,—or eaten by a

bear, or shot by your father, Marie-he does shoot so badly. I never saw any one shoot so badly as your worthy papa, dear. Why--'

The sentence was never finished, for a servant entered the room.

'A courier, Mademoiselle, from Russia.' Marina sprang to the door. 'A courier! Where is he?'

The wily François had anticipated this outburst, and drew aside. There, in the doorway, stood the long-expected and snow-speckled post

man.

Marina caught from his hands the packet, tore it open, and there was the letter. Let us look over her shoulder.

NOVGOROD-SEVERSKI.

Little golden-haired Marie! first, I send you hundreds of kisses. I must take care not to put this in the wrong packet-it would startle some of my good friends if I made a mistake. Are you trembling with anxiety to know whether I'm dead? No; I'm alive still, little woman, and we're getting on famously. I haven't time to write much, but I expect I shall soon be able to send for you. All the people here are enthusiastic for me. But what does a little girl know or care about battles and sieges, except that we win? Lots of the towns have declared for me. I always fight behind a large shield, so

don't be afraid, Marie. We took a Russian convoy · yesterday with nearly a hundred thousand ducats in it. We are besieging Novgorod-Severski, where there's a troublesome fellow called Basmanof, who has shut himself up inside; but we shall take it in another week. Next time I write, it will be from Moscow, I expect.

Adieu, little Marie! I think about you in the huts and sheds I generally sleep in, while you are luxuriously rolling in your silky bed! But I'm pretty well off here. They've burned most of the houses, but one or two do to live in. I send you a bearskin-I killed its owner the other day when we were out hunting—and the head of an arrow, which stuck in my hand last week as I was looking at the ramparts here. The hand is nearly well again now, but it won't be quite well till you've kissed it once more. Good-bye, darling little girl! I've no time to write more. Your father is safe and sound, and Count Iwanicki says he looks after me, so you must not be afraid.

DMITRI.

'Dear Count Iwanicki!' murmured Marina.

6

Why, Marina, will you never hear? The news the news! I suppose you won't let me see the sweet epistle, so tell me all that I may hear with my profane ears. How is the

Paladin?'

And Marina told her.

XXIII

It was night at Novgorod-Severski. Through the blackened ruins of the lower town, burned by the Russian governor, Basmanof, when he retired into the citadel, the troops of Dmitri were scattered here and there in such of the houses and huts as had escaped utter destruction.

Wrapped in a military cloak, Dmitri himself, accompanied by Iwanicki, stole from point to point, marking the disposition and wakefulness of the pickets, sentinels, and videttes. As they drew near a half-ruined wall, they heard on the other side talking and laughing, mingled with dispute. Cautiously approaching, they gained a position from which, unobserved themselves, they could see and hear the group of disputants.

Why, what do you know about it, Zarucki?' they heard an old Cossack say to a young one who had just spoken. A fine captain you

would make, to be sure!'

'Say what you like, the general is wrong. Why, here have we been three weeks before

this miserable wooden fort; and if we stay here three years we shall not take it! The Russians are close on us, with their whole army. Do you think we shall win if we take as much time as this over each wretched citadel we come to ?'

'Why, what would you do?' said his critic, with a shrug.

'Do? Why, if I were hetman, I would attack the Muscovite army to-morrow!' said Zarucki, with an oath.

'Do you know how many they are?' said a Pole. 'They are forty thousand if they are a And we-why, all told, we aren't fifteen

man.

thousand !'

'Pooh! what does that matter? The Muscovites are cowards; their generals drive them on with whips. Anyhow, if the general stays here much longer, he won't have any men at all! I shall go back to the Sizca. I daresay there will be something to do against the Tartars. I've had enough of this sitting idle here, freezing.'

'So have I!' And I!' shouted two or three

more.