During the entry into the streets of Lahore, the sight of which awoke in him so many painful recollections, Heideck was suddenly roused from his reverie.  Behind the pillars supporting the balcony of a house he thought he caught sight of the form of a woman, who followed with staring eyes the march of the glittering, rattling troop of horsemen with their clattering swords.  Although her face was almost entirely hidden by a veil, he felt instinctively that she was no other than his own and Edith’s preserver—­the page Georgi.  He turned his horse and rode up to the house.  But the vision disappeared as he drew near, as if the earth had swallowed it up.  He accordingly was driven to assume that it was merely a delusion of his senses.

He took leave of Prince Tchajawadse with a heartiness corresponding to their previous relations.  The Prince embraced him several times, and his eyes were moist as he again wished his comrade a prosperous journey and the laurels of a victorious warrior.  Nor was Heideck ashamed of his emotion, when he clasped the Prince’s hand for the last time.

“If you see your page again, please give him my own and Mrs. Irwin’s farewell greeting.”

The Prince’s face clouded over.

“I would do it with all my heart, my friend, but I shall never see my page again.  Let us speak of him no more.  There are wounds of which a man cannot feel proud.”

With this they parted.

Heideck, who had resumed his civilian attire, slept at the hotel, and then took the place Mr. Kennedy offered him in his carriage.  He had found out that the railway between Lahore and Mooltan from Montgomery Station was still available for travelling.

The English, with their peculiar tenacity, still continued the regular service in the parts of India that were not affected by the war.  The enormous extent of the country confined the struggle between the two armies in some degree to a strictly limited area.  In the west, the east, and the interior of India there were few traces of the conflict.  Only the troop trains between Bombay and Calcutta revealed a state of war.

Since the retirement of the English army from Lahore, no more troops were to be seen on the western railway, and this section was again perfectly free for ordinary traffic.

Even the Indian population of this district showed no particular signs of excitement.  Only the actual presence of the Russian troops had disturbed the patient and peaceful people.  The travellers even passed through Chanidigot without any interruption of their occupations or meeting with any unexpected delay.

The weather was not too hot; the stormy season had begun, and travelling in the roomy, comfortable railway carriages would have been in other circumstances a real pleasure.