“These good people offer you the shelter of their roof for the night,” said he to me, looking me up and down with vindictive eyes. “I find it hard to refuse them, but I tell you straight that for my part I had rather see you on the snow. It would cool your hot blood, you rascal of a Frenchman!”
I looked at him with the contempt that I felt.
“You were born a savage and you will die one,” said I.
My words stung him, for he broke into an oath, raising his whip as if he would strike me.
“Silence, you crop-eared dog!” he cried. “Had I my way some of the insolence would be frozen out of you before morning.” Mastering his passion, he turned upon Sophie with what he meant to be a gallant manner. “If you have a cellar with a good lock,” said he, “the fellow may lie in it for the night, since you have done him the honour to take an interest in his comfort. I must have his parole that he will not attempt to play us any tricks, as I am answerable for him until I hand him over to the Hetman Platoff to-morrow.”
His supercilious manner was more than I could endure. He had evidently spoken French to the lady in order that I might understand the humiliating way in which he referred to me.
“I will take no favour from you,” said I. “You may do what you like, but I will never give you my parole.”
The Russian shrugged his great shoulders, and turned away as if the matter were ended.
“Very well, my fine fellow, so much the worse for your fingers and toes. We shall see how you are in the morning after a night in the snow.”
“One moment, Major Sergine,” cried Sophie. “You must not be so hard upon this prisoner. There are some special reasons why he has a claim upon our kindness and mercy.”
The Russian looked with suspicion upon his face from her to me.
“What are the special reasons? You certainly seem to take a remarkable interest in this Frenchman,” said he.
“The chief reason is that he has this very morning of his own accord released Captain Alexis Barakoff, of the Dragoons of Grodno.”
“It is true,” said Barakoff, who had come out of the house. “He captured me this morning, and he released me upon parole rather than take me back to the French army, where I should have been starved.”
“Since Colonel Gerard has acted so generously you will surely, now that fortune has changed, allow us to offer him the poor shelter of our cellar upon this bitter night,” said Sophie. “It is a small return for his gen- erosity.”
But the Dragoon was still in the sulks.
“Let him give me his parole first that he will not attempt to escape,” said he. “Do you hear, sir? Do you give me your parole?”
“I give you nothing,” said I.
“Colonel Gerard,” cried Sophie, turning to me with a coaxing smile, “you will give me your parole, will you not?”
“To you, mademoiselle, I can refuse nothing. I will give you my parole, with pleasure.”
“There, Major Sergine,” cried Sophie, in triumph,
“that is surely sufficient. You have heard him say that he gives me his parole. I will be answerable for his safety .”
In an ungracious fashion my Russian bear grunted his consent, and so I was led into the house, followed by the scowling father and by the big, black-bearded Dragoon. In the basement there was a large and roomy chamber, where the winter logs were stored. Thither it was that I was led, and I was given to understand that this was to be my lodging for the night. One side of this bleak apartment was heaped up to the ceiling with fagots of firewood. The rest of the room was stone- flagged and bare-walled, with a single, deep-set window upon one side, which was safely guarded with iron bars. For light I had a large stable lantern, which swung from a beam of the low ceiling. Major Sergine smiled as he took this down, and swung it round so as to throw its light into every corner of that dreary chamber.