Then I rode to Mazeppa’s house in order to find how he had fared in his ride home. To be sent riding back to one’s friends stripped of all clothes and tied like a pack to the horse is a shameful thing, and I intended to have my fun out of Mazeppa. He had striven daily to better me in the matter of the lady whose favour we both desired, and I was not sorry that to-day, at least, I had had the laugh of him. Who had seen him as he came jolting, naked, into the stable yard, I wondered! How he would hate the man or men who saw and released him—I knew Mazeppa well! Those men would not remain long in his service! Sweet Lady of Kazan! to ride naked and bound among one’s own servants! A shame indeed!

But to my surprise nothing was known of Mazeppa at his own house.

‘And the horse?’ I inquired.

The servant smiled. ‘It would need a clever horse to rid himself of our master!’ he said. ‘The Pan is a Cossack, and sticks to his horse like the devil to a weak soul! This day he rides the new horse, indeed—an untried Tartar beast from the Ukraine, bought from a merchant who brings a number for sale each year. But the horse is not foaled that can throw Mazeppa!’

Knowing what I knew, I said nothing, but took a bundle of clothes and some food, and galloped forth in order to take up Mazeppa’s track from the spot in which Falbofsky lay in ambush for us.

The ground was soft, and it was easy enough to follow the hoof marks. Falbofsky’s men had first well startled the horse by shouting and beating him with sticks, so that he had fled at full gallop, kicking up the grass and earth as he went. A child could have led me upon the scent.

But though I rode ten leagues and more before darkness came to render further tracking impossible I had not yet overtaken Mazeppa, and I was obliged to seek shelter for the night in a village which lay a mile from the cross-country path chosen by the horse, which had avoided passing close to the habitations of man, as though aware that he bore a burden which must not be gazed upon.

Very early in the morning I set out once more upon my pursuit, and, taking up the track where I left it, was soon in full chase.

And I had scarcely travelled more than two or three leagues when I came upon what at first sight appeared to be Mazeppa lying dead beneath the horse, which was as dead as its rider. He was still tightly bound to the beast, which lay with protruding tongue and glazed eyes starting from their sockets, having—as it seemed—tripped and fallen headlong over the trunk of a tree uprooted by the wind, while galloping through the forest in the darkness.

Now, though I was never sure at this time whether I more loved or hated Mazeppa, the sight of his poor naked body come to so pitiful an end filled me with sorrow, and I dismounted very mournfully in order to disengage him from the carcass of the horse which lay upon him. First I cut the bonds that bound him to the dead beast; after that I dragged the burden from him, for it lay upon one leg and one side of him, covering his chest, but leaving his head free.

‘Poor dead Mazeppa!’ I murmured; ‘thou hast been ever ready to better me, my friend, but I have loved thee, nevertheless, more than other men that I have known!’

As I freed him from the weight that had oppressed him, Mazeppa seemed to groan; his eyelids quivered as though he would come to. I took water and sprinkled his face. Presently he sighed and opened his eyes. He stared dully at me for a minute; then he seemed to remember and sat up to look around. It was plain that he had not broken his neck, like the poor beast that carried him.

He rose to his feet and examined the dead horse, spurning it with his foot.

‘Take these clothes, Mazeppa,’ I said; ‘it is a mercy and a marvel that you are not as dead as the beast.’

‘Curse him!’ said Mazeppa; ‘and doubly, trebly and eternally damned be Falbofsky in this and all worlds! I am shamed and disgraced for ever.’

‘No one saw thee except Falbofsky and his men,’ I said, thinking to soothe him.

‘Curse thee, too, for a fool!’ he cried angrily. ‘Do not men’s tongues wag? All the world will know of it for fifty leagues around!’ His jaws shook with the cold, but he seemed to take no heed of it, though he quickly donned the clothes I brought. I gave him food; but, though he must have been starving, he ate it without thinking what he did; his thoughts were far away.

‘How came you free?’ he said suddenly. ‘Did you escape them?’

‘My horse escaped,’ I said, ‘or doubtless I should have been treated as you were. As it was, I was left gagged and bound in the wood, stripped also; but a peasant found me and carried me home in his cart. Then I rode across to Falbofsky’s house, and——’

‘You have not killed him—do not tell me that!’ cried Mazeppa, so loudly and furiously that I was startled. ‘Dare not to tell me you have killed Falbofsky!’

‘I fought him and wounded him, but spared his life,’ I said, ‘because she——’

‘She!’ cried Mazeppa, and repeated ‘She,’ almost shrieking the word; ‘it was she that led us into the trap. Do you know that, Chelminsky? How would he have known of our coming but for her? And you spared him because she wept and bade you be merciful——was it so, I say?’

I assented, somewhat shamefaced. Mazeppa’s madness made me afraid and ashamed.

‘Well, thank God, you spared him!’ he laughed, a moment later. ‘And you reached home naked?’ he ended unexpectedly.

‘I was not seen,’ I said.

‘It is the same as though we were both seen. By this time all is known. We have done with home for ever, my friend, you and I—with home and with all who knew us there. I thought of this as I rode yesterday. Would you return?’

It had not occurred to me that it would be necessary to depart, as Mazeppa suggested, but now that he pointed it out I realised the whole shame that would attach to us both in this matter if folks should speak of it, as speak they surely would. It would be impossible to live, knowing that people looked askance at us as we passed and told one another of our disgrace. True, I had fought Falbofsky and had the better of him, but that would be forgotten, while the rest remained.

‘No,’ I said, ‘I will not return, or, if I do, only for a short space in order to put my affairs in order with the steward.’

‘No; let him come to you, that is my advice. We will abide at Gorelka, which cannot be far from here. I have an idea for our future career (I had time to think yesterday), and from Gorelka we will summon our servants.’

We travelled slowly to Gorelka, which was a small town distant about two leagues from the spot in which I had found Mazeppa. There we lodged at the post station, but when we had eaten and rested an hour Mazeppa said that he would borrow my horse for a day, or maybe two days.

‘Whither go you?’ I said. ‘Homewards, to settle your affairs?’

‘Yes, homewards, and to settle my affairs,’ he replied grimly.

‘If one is to go,’ I said, ‘it were surely better I, for of the two, Mazeppa, it is you that have been worse treated and will be most spoken of. Both of us will lie under contempt, but you more than I.’ I spoke honestly, desiring to spare him the shame of being seen, for I saw plainly that this would be no small matter for him in his present temper.

‘Fool!’ he retorted. ‘Do you not understand that because I have suffered the greater disgrace therefore it is for me to go?’

I did not understand for a moment or two. When his meaning at last occurred to me I said no more, for it would have been as foolish to attempt to stem a mountain torrent as to divert Mazeppa from his purpose at that moment. And presently he took my horse and rode away.

A day and a half I awaited his return at that post station at Gorelka. I guessed what was passing in our own district, and I spent my time musing over this and over the question of my future career. Now that Mazeppa had shown me the matter from his point of vision, I wondered how I could ever have contemplated living at home after Falbofsky’s treatment of us and the disgrace and derision that were bound to follow. Truly this fiend could not have devised a more devilish trick to bring fellow creatures into the contempt of men though he had been Beelzebub himself, the prince of fiends!

Mazeppa returned, and I looked into his eyes, saying nothing. He, too, gazed in mine, but smiled only, keeping silence upon the subject we both thought of. But he was now himself once more, and in excellent temper, from which I inferred that his mission, whatever it might be, had succeeded.

On the following day my servant arrived, and Mazeppa’s with him. I had despatched post horses and a messenger to fetch them. They brought terrible news.

Falbofsky had been dragged from his bed at night, it was said, and forced to fight with some desperate stranger, who had left him dead or dying upon the ground and departed. ‘It was as well,’ said the servant, ‘that the Pans Mazeppa and Chelminsky were both here at Gorelka, as could be testified, for otherwise suspicion might have fallen upon either or both, since it was freely spoken of that there had been a quarrel in which all three were involved.’

‘And the lady?’ I asked, glancing at Mazeppa.

‘They say she was beaten with thongs by the same miscreant, and lies raving and accusing,’ said the man. ‘The Pan Falbofsky was a fierce lord, and had many enemies!’

Not one word did I speak with Mazeppa of this matter. We settled our affairs as well as we could do so by our servants, and having dismissed them lost no further time, but rode direct towards Bastupof, a city of the Cossacks of the Ukraine, in search of a career. It was some time before I heard definitely whether Falbofsky died or lived.