Not with any malady, only worn out with hunger, cold, and weariness. Every care was afforded him, and every kindness shown that circumstances permitted; and so, I trust—"
"But," Clémence interrupted, "can we be sure there is no mistake? M. le Russe, how did you become possessed of this?" pointing to the handkerchief.
"In a strange way, mademoiselle," said Ivan, fixing his deep blue eyes on her face. "A young peasant, a friend of my childhood, was made prisoner by the French as they were marching upon Moscow. They branded him in the hand with the letter N, telling him that now he belonged to their Emperor, Napoleon. The brave fellow took out his axe and struck off the hand, saying to them, 'Take what belongs to your Emperor; as for me, I belong wholly to the Czar.' Then, mademoiselle, monsieur, your—your brother, I presume, stepped forward before them all, like the gallant and chivalrous gentleman he is, and bound up the poor lad's wounded arm with his own handkerchief."
A look of pride and pleasure flashed over the pale face of Clémence—and Ivan saw it.
He resumed. "It was in Moscow, during the Occupation, that I met him first. My friend pointed him out to me in one of our churches. He found his way there, for he said it did him good to see men kneel in prayer to God, though he could not understand their words. Afterwards, as I told you, I saw him in the hospital at Vilna."
Absorbed though she was in the interest of his narrative, Clémence perceived that Ivan was growing faint. "Mother," she whispered, "I fear we are hurting him. Let us go."
"Only one word more," said Ivan. "You wish to know how I came by that," again indicating the handkerchief. "My friend Michael treasured it carefully as a souvenir, and when I was wounded the other night, he used it to bind the wound. Knowing how he prizes it, I was careful to have it washed, and
