that she was unable to render account of all that had hap-
pened to her. The attack, the frightful scenes of death,
terror, unexpected rescue, and flight,----all came like a storm
in the course of a single night. And besides, so many un-
intelligible things! Who was this who had saved her?
He had told her his name, it is true, but that name explained
in no way the motives of his action. Whence did he come
to Rozlogi? He said that he bad come with Bogun; he had
evidently kept company with him, was his acquaintance
and friend. But in such a case why did he save her, and
expose himself to the greatest danger and the terrible re-
venge of the Cossack? To understand this it was neces-
sary to know Zagloba well, with his unruly head and his
kindly heart. Helena had known him only six hours. And
that unknown man with his impudent face, a swaggerer, a
drunkard, is her savior. If she had met him three days be-
fore, he would have roused in her aversion and distrust; but
now she looks on him as a good angel, and flees with him---
whither? To Zolotonosha or anywhere else,----she herself
knows not yet clearly. What a change of fate! Yester-
day she lay down to rest under the quiet roof where she
was born; to-day she is in the steppe, on horseback, in male
attire, without home, without refuge. Behind her is the
terrible chief, with designs on her honor; before her con-
flagration, peasant rebellion, civil war with all its ambushes,
alarms, and horrors. And all her hope is in that man? No!
it is still in some one more powerful than violence, war,
murder, and conflagration. Here she raised her eyes to
heaven and said,--

"Oh, do thou save me, great and merciful God! Rescue
the orphan, the unhappy, the wanderer! Let thy will be
done, but let thy mercy be manifest."

Indeed the mercy had been made manifest, for she had
been caught away from the most terrible hands, and saved
by an incomprehensible miracle of God. Danger had not
passed yet, but perhaps rescue was not distant. Who
knows where he is whom she has chosen with her heart?
He must have returned already from the Saitch; perhaps
he is somewhere in that same steppe. He will seek her
and find her, and then joy will take the place of tears, and
rejoicing of grief; alarm and terror will disappear forever,
peace and pleasure will come. The brave simple heart of
the girl was filled with trust, and the steppe rustled
sweetly around her; the breeze which moved the grass