The Russians are ten minutes' march from here; they have horses; we are going up to their first battery for a pair." "But the sentinels?" "One of us three--" he interrupted himself, and turned to the aide-de-camp. "You will come, Hippolyte, won't you?" Hippolyte nodded. "One of us," continued the major, "will take care of the sentinel. Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed Russians." "Forward! major, you're a brave one! But you'll give me a lift on your carriage?" said the grenadier. "Yes, if you don't leave your skin up there-- If I fall, Hippolyte, and you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the countess." "Agreed!" cried the grenadier. They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river. A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow, and the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above the heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet that their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his anvil. The generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier was safe and sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a bayonet in his shoulder; but he clung to his horse's mane, and clasped him so tightly with his knees that the animal was held as in a vice. "God be praised!" cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and the carriage in its place. "If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this," said the man. "We've played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can tell you." "We have done nothing yet-- Harness the horses. Take these ropes." "They are not long enough." "Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen, to eke out." "Tiens! that's one dead," said the grenadier, stripping the first man he came to. "Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!" "All?"