Against the town-house of the village some of the Russians had already
drawn themselves up so flat and close that the defenders at the windows
could not cover them with their rifles. These ran out ever and anon to
fire a shot, and returned to reload. Meanwhile the brushwood was
applied to the door and set on fire, amid yells of fiendish joy.

Lancey had followed the crowd almost mechanically. He had no enemy--no
object. The Turk, as it happened, was, for the time being, his friend.

The Muscovite was not, and never had been, his foe. After the first
deadly burst of his fury on seeing the innocent old woman massacred had
passed, his rage lost all point. But he could not calm his quivering
nerves or check the fierce flow of his boiling blood. Onward he went
with the shouting, cheering, yelling, and cursing crowd of soldiery, his
clothes cut in many places with bullets, though flesh and bone were
spared.

Close to the town-house stood the dwelling of the Turk who had released
him, and shown him hospitality when he was seized by the inhabitants.
The door of the house was being burst open by clubbed rifles. The
memory of a "helping hand," however slight, was sufficient to give
direction to the rage of the madman, for such he still undoubtedly was
at the moment--like many another man who had become sane enough the
following day when the muster-roll was called.

Up to that moment he had been drifting before the gale. He now seized
the helm of his rage, and, upsetting two or three of the men who stood
in his way, soon drew near to the front. As he came forward the door
gave way. A tremendous discharge of fire-arms laid low every man in
advance; but of what avail is it to slay hundreds when thousands press
on in rear?

Lancey sprang over the dead and was met by the points of half a dozen
bayonets,--the foremost man being his deliverer with the black beard.

Grounding his rifle with a crash, and holding up his left hand, he
shouted--"A friend!"

At the same moment he was thrown down and leaped over by the soldiers
behind, who were stabbed by the Turks and fell on him. But Lancey
staggered again to his feet, and using his superior strength to push
aside and crush through those in front, he gained an empty passage
before the others did, and rushed along towards a door at the end of it.

Opening the door and entering he was arrested by the sight of a
beautiful Turkish girl, who stood gazing at him in horror.