One of his narrowest escapes happened in the little town of
Klausenburg, a quiet place ordinarily, but now the centre of great
military activity. He was walking through the town, as it was the best
way of keeping to the direct route. Suddenly, from behind him, he heard
a harsh voice cry in German, "_Halte!_"
Looking round, he saw that it was he himself who was being addressed.
He halted; there was nothing else to do.
"Why did you not stop and salute me?" asked an offensive-looking young
Austrian officer.
Korniloff clinked his heels together and saluted.
"I did not see you, Herr Hauptmann!"
"Ah! you are blind, then? Who are you, and where are you going?"
"Johann Bach," said the Russian, affecting simplicity, "and I am going
home to my wife."
"You will come with me first, so that we can make a few inquiries about
you."
Disaster stared the fugitive in the face. His first impulse was to
run, but he resisted it. To obey, however, would mean his immediate
discovery.
"I beg your pardon, gracious Herr Captain," he said, as humbly as he
could, though inwardly cursing. "I beg you not to detain me now, when
I am so anxious to get to my dear wife."
"An hour longer from your wife won't hurt you," answered the officer.
"Come with me."
His tone was so utterly offensive that, almost instinctively, Korniloff
made a gesture of defiance. Quickly the officer called two men who were
passing. "Take this man to the Kiraly barracks," he ordered. "I will
meet you there in half an hour."
The two soldiers saluted, placed themselves on either side of
Korniloff, and marched him off. He knew it was no good trying to
escape, so he thought he would try friendliness. "Give me at least a
smoke," he said; and very willing one of the men stopped, gave him a
cigar, and lighted it. They asked him what he had done, or not done,
to bring on himself this disciplinary measure.
"Oh, it's only because I don't know the way," said Korniloff. "Come and
have a drink with me, comrades. There is no harm in that."