I saw her standing there, sipping at her flagon, and then she hid it once more and asked in a whisper:
"Does grief sleep or not?"
"Grief does not sleep," I answered.
Then she came to my bed and told me that the Count had sent for Arkadie after his punishment and said:
"You ought to have suffered all that I had threatened, but as you were my favourite, I will now show you mercy. To-morrow I shall send you to be a soldier, as supernumerary, but as you were not afraid of the noble count, my brother, with his pistols, I shall open the path of honour for you. I do not wish you to be lower than your noble spirit deserves. I will write a letter asking that you should be sent at once to the war. You will not have to serve as a private soldier, but as a regimental sergeant—so show your courage. From this time you are no longer subject to my will, but to the Tzar's."
"He is better off now," said the old woman, "he need not fear anything; he has only one authority over him; he need only fear falling in battle, and not the master's tyranny."
I believed her, and for three years dreamed every night of Arkadie fighting.
In this way three years passed. God was merciful to me. I was not recalled to the theatre, but I
