“The old prince remained silent.  He thought that he ought to have been consulted.  His son was also ordnance officer to the Emperor and he knew that the Tsar would never forget this appearance of defection in a Polish noble.  In a discontented tone he pointed out to his son that as it was he had an unlimited leave.  The right thing would have been to keep quiet.  They had too much tact at Court to recall a man of his name.  Or at worst some distant mission might have been asked for—­to the Caucasus for instance—­away from this unhappy struggle which was wrong in principle and therefore destined to fail.

“’Presently you shall find yourself without any interest in life and with no occupation.  And you shall need something to occupy you, my poor boy.  You have acted rashly, I fear.’

“Prince Roman murmured.

“‘I thought it better.’

“His father faltered under his steady gaze.

“’Well, well—­perhaps!  But as ordnance officer to the Emperor and in favour with all the Imperial family....’

“’Those people had never been heard of when our house was already illustrious,’ the young man let fall disdainfully.

“This was the sort of remark to which the old prince was sensible.

“‘Well—­perhaps it is better,’ he conceded at last.

“The father and son parted affectionately for the night.  The next day Prince Roman seemed to have fallen back into the depths of his indifference.  He rode out as usual.  He remembered that the day before he had seen a reptile-like convoy of soldiery, bristling with bayonets, crawling over the face of that land which was his.  The woman he loved had been his, too.  Death had robbed him of her.  Her loss had been to him a moral shock.  It had opened his heart to a greater sorrow, his mind to a vaster thought, his eyes to all the past and to the existence of another love fraught with pain but as mysteriously imperative as that lost one to which he had entrusted his happiness.

“That evening he retired earlier than usual and rang for his personal servant.

“’Go and see if there is light yet in the quarters of the Master-of-the-Horse.  If he is still up ask him to come and speak to me.’

“While the servant was absent on this errand the Prince tore up hastily some papers, locked the drawers of his desk, and hung a medallion, containing the miniature of his wife, round his neck against his breast.

“The man the Prince was expecting belonged to that past which the death of his love had called to life.  He was of a family of small nobles who for generations had been adherents, servants, and friends of the Princes S---------.  He remembered the times before the last partition and had taken part in the struggles of the last hour.  He was a typical old Pole of that class, with a great capacity for emotion, for blind enthusiasm; with martial instincts and simple beliefs; and even with the old-time habit of larding his speech with Latin words.  And his kindly shrewd eyes, his ruddy face, his lofty brow and his thick, gray, pendent moustache were also very typical of his kind.