They pulled her off to the rear courtyard where, having to endure the most abominable abuse, she was on the verge of collapse, when, overhearing the woman’s pitiful cries, a Russian officer suddenly appeared, and with wild thrusts of his saber scattered the dirty dogs who lusted after her. To the marquise he seemed like a heavenly angel. With the handle of his dagger he struck full in the face the last filthy scoundrel who had his arms around her slender body, so that the latter tumbled backwards, blood pouring from his mouth; then, with an obligatory French salutation, he offered his arm to the lady, herself rendered speechless by all that had happened, and led her to another wing of the palace, one that had not yet caught fire, where she promptly collapsed in a faint. “Here” – he called for a doctor, once she’d been joined by her terrified ladies-in-waiting; and after assuring them that she would soon revive, he plunked his hat back on his head and returned to battle.

In a short time the yard was completely overrun, and the commandant, who only continued to resist because his request for a reprieve had been declined, drew back with waning strength into the portal of his burning castle just as the Russian officer staggered out, flushed in the face, calling on him to surrender. The commandant replied that he had been awaiting this request, handed over his dagger and begged permission to go back inside to search for his family. The Russian officer, who, judging from the role he played, appeared to be one of the leaders of the assault, accorded him this liberty, under the accompaniment of a guard; proceeded with some dispatch to lead a detachment to where the battle still raged and quickly took control of the last holdout positions of the fortress. Soon thereafter he returned to the yard, gave orders to put out the flames that had begun to rage wildly all about, and pitched in with startling effort when his orders were not followed with adequate zeal. Now he clambered, hose in hand, amongst the burning gables, directing the jet of water; now he poked his head into the arsenal, making his Asian troops tremble, and rolled out powder kegs and loaded bombs. The commandant, in the meantime, upon entering his residential quarters and learning of the attack on his daughter, was deeply upset. The marquise, who had already, just as the Russian officer had promised, completely revived from her faint without the aid of a physician, overjoyed to see her nearest and dearest gathered safe and sound around her, only stayed in bed to assuage their concerns, assuring her father that she had no other wish than to be allowed to get up and express her thanks to the man who had saved her. She had already learned that he was the Count F . . . , lieutenant colonel of the T . . . n Riflemen’s Corps, and a knight decorated with the Order of Merit and many other medals. She asked her father to implore him not to leave the citadel without first making a brief appearance in the castle. Honoring his daughter’s request, the commandant promptly returned to the fort, and as the Russian officer was engaged in a never-ending deluge of orders relating to the war, and no better moment could be found to talk, right then and there on the ramparts, from which the latter surveyed the state of his wounded troops, the commandant conveyed his daughter’s ardent wish. The count assured him that, as soon as he had a free moment following the completion of his duties, he would pay his respects. He was still waiting to hear how Madame la Marquise was faring when the formal report of several officers dragged him back into the melee of battle. At daybreak, the commanding officer of the Russian troops arrived and visited the fort. He conveyed his respects to the vanquished commandant, expressing his regret that fortune did not favor his courage, and accorded him, on his honor, freedom of passage to go where he willed. The commandant assured him of his appreciation and declared what a great debt of gratitude he owed on this day to the Russians in general, and in particular, to the young Count F . . . , lieutenant colonel of the T . . . n Riflemen’s Corps.