One of the city gates lay in this direction: that which gave upon the road leading to our own home, the Ukraine. I must at least make sure that Mazeppa intended to take this road. That much ascertained I might rest a little while, or even, perhaps, return for my horse.

Meanwhile the rumble of the wheels in front of me grew fainter with distance; if it had not been night time, and this the only sound audible, I should have lost it long since.

Suddenly I did lose it. Either they were already at the gate and had stopped to be allowed to pass out by the sleepy custodian, or I had fallen out of the range of earshot.

I made a last effort, using all my remaining strength to cover a few hundred yards in case they should be delayed at the gate, and presently I was rewarded by hearing the carriage wheels once more, this time much nearer.

But I could run no further. I staggered forward at a walk and reached the gate; the noise of the wheels had passed out of hearing.

A drowsy peasant in a cart drawn by a little horse which walked in its sleep, according to the custom of these little Finnish or Russian ponies, had just passed into the city. This man sulkily informed me that some Barin had just passed out in his travelling carriage. To the gatekeeper he had given his destination as Kief.

Then I stood and thought for a moment, and as the result of my reflections I hastened homewards for my horse, old Boris, who would carry me to the Ukraine at a gallop if I but shook the reins and laid them upon his neck.

But my lodgings were a long way from this part of the city, and it was nearly an hour before I was back again at the gate and after my quarry. That would matter little if I could keep upon their track; but Mazeppa, being a fox, would employ every device to set possible pursuers at their wit’s end. Therefore I concluded that whichsoever of the many branching roads he might have chosen for his flight it would not be the Kiefsky road, since he had given that city as his destination.

Yet even in this Mazeppa showed wheels within wheels of subtlety, for it proved in the end that he had actually done that which anyone knowing him would suppose to be the most unlikely thing of all, having selected the very road which he had named. And it must be confessed that he thus completely outwitted me, for I spent all that first night in galloping desperately down one road and then another, finding no trace of the fugitives anywhere; and when, at morning, it was necessary to give Boris a rest, I was no wiser as to their whereabouts than I had been when I left the gates of Moscow last night.

But Boris and I were used to hard work together, and we rested but a few hours before recommencing our search. Suffice to say that forty-eight priceless hours had been wasted in fruitless ridings forward and backward before I felt sure that we were at last upon the right track.

‘Now for a long and hard gallop, Boris, my friend,’ said I, patting his neck, and away went the good horse upon a scent nearly two days old, and lo! to my surprise and delight, on the third night I ran into the quarry.

It was at midnight that we rode up to a post-house upon the Kiefsky road. I did not expect more than news of the fugitives: they had passed, I should be told, so many hours before; yet when the night groom came forward to take my orders he began by telling me, if I desired the nochliog, or night’s rest, I must sleep in the stable, for wonderful things were happening here.

‘Never mind the wonderful things, fool; tell me quickly how long since there passed a dormÉse containing a man and a woman, besides the driver?’

‘It has not passed at all,’ said the fellow, grinning and scratching his head, ‘because it is still here!’

‘Come into the stable quickly!’ I said, fearful lest he should be heard, supposing that this wondrous thing were really true. ‘Now,’ I continued, when we had entered the horse-shed and closed the door, ‘tell me what you were going to say at first.’

‘The man is sleeping in the travelling carriage because the woman has barricaded herself in the post-room; this is the second night: the postmaster argues and scolds all day, but it is useless. “If he tries to come in here,” says the woman, “he shall be killed!” As for the man, he laughs and says, “We shall see what will happen when her stomach craves for food!” “God knows,” says the master, “how it will end!”’

‘That I will soon show you, my friend,’ said I, ‘for I have come to end it!’

I hastened to the post-room. ‘If you don’t wish to be slit in two halves or have your brains set flowing, go not near that mad thing,’ said the groom. ‘Lord! you should hear her cry out at the other!’

Disregarding his warnings, to his great alarm I knocked at the door of the post-room, saying it was I, Chelminsky, come to deliver her.

‘Ah,’ said Vera’s voice from within, ‘it is that devil, assuming Chelminsky’s voice. I am not so easily deceived, Mazeppa!’

‘It is indeed I, Vera,’ said I joyously. ‘I have followed you with difficulty, but I have found you at last.’

‘Oh!’ cried she from within, ‘it sounds like Chelminsky; but dare I open and risk it? Remember, if it is you, Mazeppa, you devil, that if you touch me you die—I swear it again and again.’

‘How shall I prove it to you that I am I?’ said I in despair. ‘I was watching in Vaiseuk’s hut and saw you carried out by night. Is that proof?’

Then Vera opened the door a little and peeped out, and with a cry of joy she threw it open and fell upon me with tears and embraces, which latter I returned with interest, being the first I had given or received from this modest and splendid maiden.

‘Now, shut yourself up once again, for I shall first settle accounts with Mazeppa,’ said I. ‘In case he should better me, you will be worse off than before!’

‘No, I will see this account settled,’ she said; and when I bade her take her sword or her pistol, or whatsoever it was she had had with her in the room—that with which she threatened to take his life if he should have attempted the door—she told me to my surprise that she had nothing!

‘Threats are good weapons against some foes,’ she said, laughing!

Nevertheless I gave Vera my own dagger, for I liked not that she should be unarmed, in case of accident, and bade her keep it in her bosom.

Then we went to find Mazeppa in his dormÉse, wherein he slept soundly.

‘Awake, Mazeppa,’ I cried, ‘for I am here!’

He opened his eyes and saw me, saw Vera also; yet he did not become confused or show terror or surprise even in the moment of waking.

‘What, you, Chelminsky,’ he said, ‘and come so far after this baggage? Well, take her, my friend, if you think her worth the having; as for me, I have changed my opinion!’

‘I shall certainly take her,’ said I, ‘and that without your permission; but first you shall fight me——’

‘What, for her sake? Dear man! believe me, she is not worth it: I have spent three days in her company, and it is enough. If you are wise, let the fat Russian Boyar have her. We were right to save her from the puling little Tsar! They two would breed devils and idiots to rule Russia withal!’

‘Fie, Mazeppa,’ said I, ‘a Cossack and a coward!’

‘Lord, man, you know better than that! I like you, Chelminsky; we are old friends. I nearly got you knouted the other day, but I was angry; I wanted the wench here, knowing no better. Now it is different. I will not fight on her account—the she-devil! I have scratches upon me from her nails, and kicks from her feet. Another day I will fight, if you will, upon somewhat better pretext.’

‘Get out of the dormÉse, then,’ I said, ‘for I require it for this lady.’

‘What!’ said he, climbing out nevertheless, ‘you will not be advised? Let her go, man, and come back with me: I know her better than you. I have had some experience with women.’

‘Mazeppa, the married man!’ Vera laughed suddenly.

‘True,’ said he, ‘there is that little affair, too, Chelminsky: some day we may exchange a few passes, but not to-night. It is scarcely worth a man’s while to be wakened—much less to be obliged to draw a sword—upon so trifling a matter as the destination of a scolding woman. Take her, man, or let her go to the devil: as for me, I shall sleep.’

With these words Mazeppa withdrew to the post-house, and we saw no more of him. I ought, perhaps, to have chastised him or forced him to fight; but his attitude surprised and silenced me, and I think I felt some admiration for a man who could accept defeat so excellently.