21. The Read Handkerchief

“You are wounded!” Maroussia exclaimed. “They have shot you!”

“It is only a scratch, Maroussia, tomorrow it cannot be seen. Go, Maroussia, my dear child, go!”

He took her by the hand.

“How cold your hand is!” exclaimed the child.

“Don’t think of my hand, dear heart. Hasten! First, the two wreaths on the bridge, then the handkerchief to the man who will come out of the grove, if he says to you, ‘May God help you!’ Courage, Maroussia, it is for the safety of those who are left of the brave defenders of Ukraine.”

Tchetchevik tried to make a passage through the underbrush for Maroussia, but had not strength enough. This weakness on the part of him whom she had regarded as the personification of strength, froze the little girl’s heart. For the first time, she trembled for him whom she had thought invulnerable. But she did not ask him any question. She understood that he had said all that he intended to say.

Suddenly, two strong arms broke through the foliage. The little girl, surprised, threw herself in front of her good friend, whom she thought in danger.

“Don’t be afraid, Maroussia,” said Tchetchevik, “this is a friend, a sure and faithful friend.”

Maroussia saw, among the branches, a tall peasant who saluted her in a respectful but friendly manner. It was evident that this was not the first time that he had seen her.

“This is my comrade, Peter,” said the good friend; “ look at him, he is an oak also.”

“He is taller than you,” said Maroussia astonished.

Peter pushed aside and broke the branches before Maroussia. He walked backward, and his anxious glances never left Tchetchevik.

Maroussia saw very well that Peter thought that her good friend had need of help. But Tchetchevik, who was leaning against a tree, said to him:

“Go, Peter, you must not think of me, think of the others. At any price, you must prevent their falling into this cursed ambush.”

Peter, thus reproved, broke through everything, the branches bent or were broken under the weight of his body and his feet as if a bull were passing through. Maroussia had not expected to go out of the forest so quickly. Her good friend succeeded in following her. He kept renewing his instructions:

“You see the road, the field of buckwheat and its path are to the right, at the end of the path the little bridge, the two wreaths to be left on the little bridge, to the left, on the other side the mill and the little grove, the man and the handkerchief. You must reach there. Hasten, my dear little child! Hasten! Here is the handkerchief.”