was
impossible to reload the rifles, and anyhow they would not have been
much use at these close quarters. I saw more than one horse overborne,
his rider dragged from the saddle and hideously done to death. The
rabble were like mad wolves rather than human beings.

A fresh volley from the front,--more troops were coming up there,--yells
of triumph from the rear, where the soldiers had been beaten back and a
way of retreat opened up. The furious eddies merged into a solid mass
once more, a terror stricken _sauve qui peut_ before the reinforcements.

Impossible to make headway against this; and yet every instant I was
being swept along, further from Anne. All I could do was to set my teeth
and edge towards the sidewalk. I got to the wall at last, set my back to
it, and let the rout pour by, the Cossacks in full chase now, felling
every straggler they overtook, even slashing at the dead and wounded as
they rode over them.

I started to run back, and the wild horsemen did not molest me. I still
wore the uniform in which I had left Zostrov; it was in tatters after
this frenzied half-hour, but it stood me in good stead once again, and
prevented my being shot down.

There was Anne, still alive, thank God; she was kneeling beside the
woman; and Natalya, also unhurt, stood by her, trying to raise her, and
seemingly urging her to seek shelter.

I tried to shout, but my mouth was too dry, so I ran on, stumbling over
the bodies that strewed the ground.

Some of the Cossacks had turned and were riding back; a group passed me
as I neared Anne, and one of them swung his rifle up and fired. Natalya
fell with a scream, and Anne sprang up.

"Shame, shame, you cowards, to shoot defenceless women!" she cried
indignantly.

He spurred towards her, but I was first. I flung myself before her and
fired at him. He reeled, swerved, and galloped on, but his companions
were round us. I fired again, and yet again; something flashed above me;
I felt a stunning blow on my forehead, staggered back, and fell.

The last thing I heard was a woman's shriek.

CHAPTER XLVII

THE TRAGEDY IN THE SQUARE

It was the flat of the sabre that had got me on the forehead, otherwise
there'd have been an end of me at once. I was not unconscious for very
long, for when I sat up, wiped the blood out of my eyes, and stared
about me, sick and dazed, unable for the moment to recollect what had
happened, I could still hear a tumult raging in the distan