He should
be receiving thanks and honors instead of being on his way to
headquarters as a prisoner of war, condemned, as he well knew, in
advance. For Fred had no illusions. He knew the power of Mikail
Suvaroff, who was so plainly an important member of the high Russian
command. Against so great a man his word would be valueless.
"This Russian army is like a steam roller," Fred thought to himself. "It
may be stopped here or there, but not for long. It will roll over this
whole country sooner or later. Well--I'm glad! Even if I've got to
suffer because my uncle hates me, it's not Russia's fault. I want Russia
to win."
His guards treated Fred well enough. He had an idea that he owed the
consideration he received to Lieutenant Sazonoff. He was quite sure that
General Mikail Suvaroff had nothing to do with it! And his journey,
which might have been one of acute discomfort, was made more than
tolerable.
It was late when the train in which he rode after the border was reached
arrived in Grodno. Here the army was in complete possession. Men in
uniform were everywhere; the civilian population seemed almost to have
disappeared.
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