earing that
the fortress had been taken."

Basilia went to prepare for her daughter's departure. The discussion
still continued at the Commandant's, but I took no further part in
it. Marie reappeared at supper with eyes red from tears. We supped
in silence and rose from the table sooner than usual. Having bade the
family good night, each one sought his room. I forgot my sword, on
purpose, and went back for it; I anticipated finding Marie alone. In
truth she met me at the door and gave me my sword.

"Adieu, Peter," she said, weeping, "they send me to Orenbourg. Be happy.
Perhaps God will permit us to meet again; if not--"

She burst into tears. I folded her in my arms.

"Adieu, my angel!" I said, "adieu my cherished, my beloved; what ever
happens, be sure that my last thought, my last prayer, will be for
thee." Leaning of my breast, Marie wept. I kissed her and rushed out.

VII. THE ASSAULT.

I could not sleep during the night, and did not even undress. I intended
to be at the fortress gates at day-dawn to see Marie set out, and bid
her a last adieu. I was completely changed. Excitement was less painful
than my former melancholy, for with the grief of separation there
mingled vague but secret hope, impatient expectation of danger, and a
high ambition. Night passed quickly. I was on the point of going out,
when my door opened, and the Corporal entered, saying that our Cossacks
had deserted the fortress during the night, forcing with them Zoulac,
the Christian Kalmouk, and that all around our ramparts, unknown people
were riding. The idea that Marie had not been able to get off, froze me
with terror. I gave, in haste, a few instructions to the Corporal, and
ran to the Commandant's.

Day was breaking. I was going down the street swiftly when I heard my
name called. I stopped.

"Where are you going, dare I ask?" said Ignatius, catching up with me;
"the Captain is on the rampart and sends me for you. Pougatcheff is
here."

"Is Marie gone?" I said, shuddering.

"She was not ready in time; communication with Orenbourg is cut off; the
fortress is surrounded. Peter, this is bad work."

We went to the rampart--a small height formed by nature and fortified
by a palisade. The garrison was there under arms. The cannon had been
dragged there the evening before. The Commandant was walking up and down
before his little troop--the approach of danger had restored to the old
warrior extraordinary vigor. On the steppe,