VI. How the Brigadier Rode to Minsk
I would have a stronger wine to-night, my friends, a wine of Burgundyrather than of Bordeaux. It is that my heart, my old soldier heart, isheavy within me. It is a strange thing, this age which creeps upon one.One does not know, one does not understand; the spirit is ever the same,and one does not remember how the poor body crumbles. But there comes amoment when it is brought home, when quick as the sparkle of a whirlingsabre it is clear to us, and we see the men we were and the men weare. Yes, yes, it was so to-day, and I would have a wine of Burgundyto-night. White Burgundy--Montrachet--Sir, I am your debtor!
It was this morning in the Champ de Mars. Your pardon, friends, whilean old man tells his trouble. You saw the review. Was it not splendid? Iwas in the enclosure for veteran officers who have been decorated.
This ribbon on my breast was my passport. The cross itself I keep athome in a leathern pouch. They did us honour, for we were placed at thesaluting point, with the Emperor and the carriages of the Court upon ourright.
It is years since I have been to a review, for I cannot approve of manythings which I have seen. I do not approve of the red breeches of theinfantry. It was in white breeches that the infantry used to fight. Redis for the cavalry. A little more, and they would ask our busbies andour spurs! Had I been seen at a review they might well have said that I,Etienne Gerard, had condoned it. So I have stayed at home. But this warof the Crimea is different. The men go to battle.
It is not for me to be absent when brave men gather.
My faith, they march well, those little infantrymen!
They are not large, but they are very solid and they carry themselveswell. I took off my hat to them as they passed. Then there came theguns. They were good guns, well horsed and well manned. I took off myhat to them. Then came the Engineers, and to them also I took off myhat. There are no braver men than the Engineers. Then came the cavalry,Lancers, Cuirassiers, Chasseurs, and Spahis. To all of them in turn Iwas able to take off my hat, save only to the Spahis.
The Emperor had no Spahis. But when all of the others had passed, whatthink you came at the close? A brigade of Hussars, and at the charge!
Oh, my friends, the pride and the glory and the beauty, the flash andthe sparkle, the roar of the hoofs and the jingle of chains, the tossingmanes, the noble heads, the rolling cloud, and the dancing waves ofsteel! My heart drummed to them as they passed. And the last of all,was it not my own old regiment? My eyes fell upon the grey and silverdolmans, with the leopard-skin shabraques, and at that instant the yearsfell away from me and I saw my own beautiful men and horses, even asthey had swept behind their young colonel, in the pride of our youth andour strength, just forty years ago. Up flew my cane. "Chargez! En avant!Vive l'Empereur!"
It was the past calling to the present. But oh, what a thin, pipingvoice! Was this the voice that had once thundered from wing to wing ofa strong brigade? And the arm that could scarce wave a cane, were thesethe muscles of fire and steel which had no match in all Napoleon'smighty host? They smiled at me. They cheered me. The Emperor laughed andbowed. But to me the present was a dim dream, and what was real were myeight hundred dead Hussars and the Etienne of long ago.
Enough--a brave man can face age and fate as he faced Cossacks andUhlans. But there are times when Montrachet is better than the wine ofBordeaux.
It is to Russia that they go, and so I will tell you a story of Russia.Ah, what an evil dream of the night it seems! Blood and ice. Ice andblood. Fierce faces with snow upon the whiskers. Blue hands held outfor succour. And across the great white plain the one long black lineof moving figures, trudging, trudging, a hundred miles, another hundred,and still always the same white plain. Sometimes there were fir-woodsto limit it, sometimes it stretched away to the cold blue sky, but theblack line stumbled on and on. Those weary, ragged, starving men, thespirit frozen out of them, looked neither to right nor left, but withsunken faces and rounded backs trailed onward and ever onward, makingfor France as wounded beasts make for their lair. There was no speaking,and you could scarce hear the shuffle of feet in the snow. Once only Iheard them laugh. It was outside Wilna, when an aide-de-camp rode up tothe head of that dreadful column and asked if that were the Grand Army.All who were within hearing looked round, and when they saw those brokenmen, those ruined regiments, those fur-capped skeletons who were oncethe Guard, they laughed, and the laugh crackled down the column like afeu de joie. I have heard many a groan and cry and scream in my life,but nothing so terrible as the laugh of the Grand Army.
But why was it that these helpless men were not destroyed by theRussians? Why was it that they were not speared by the Cossacks orherded into droves, and driven as prisoners into the heart of Russia? Onevery side as you watched the black snake winding over the snow yousaw also dark, moving shadows which came and went like cloud drifts oneither flank and behind. They were the Cossacks, who hung round us likewolves round the flock.
But the reason why they did not ride in upon us was that all the ice ofRussia could not cool the hot hearts of some of our soldiers. To the endthere were always those who were ready to throw themselves between thesesavages and their prey. One man above all rose greater as the dangerthickened, and won a higher name amid disaster than he had done when heled our van to victory. To him I drink this glass--to Ney, the red-manedLion, glaring back over his shoulder at the enemy who feared to treadtoo closely on his heels. I can see him now, his broad white faceconvulsed with fury, his light blue eyes sparkling like flints, hisgreat voice roaring and crashing amid the roll of the musketry. Hisglazed and featherless cocked hat was the ensign upon which Francerallied during those dreadful days.
It is well known that neither I nor the regiment of Hussars of Conflanswere at Moscow. We were left behind on the lines of communicationat Borodino. How the Emperor could have advanced without us isincomprehensible to me, and, indeed, it was only then that I understoodthat his judgment was weakening and that he was no longer the man thathe had been. However, a soldier has to obey orders, and so I remainedat this village, which was poisoned by the bodies of thirty thousand menwho had lost their lives in the great battle. I spent the late autumn ingetting my horses into condition and reclothing my men, so that when thearmy fell back on Borodino my Hussars were the best of the cavalry, andwere placed under Ney in the rear-guard.
What could he have done without us during those dreadful days? "Ah,Gerard," said he one evening--but it is not for me to repeat the words.Suffice it that he spoke what the whole army felt. The rear-guardcovered the army and the Hussars of Conflans covered the rear-guard.There was the whole truth in a sentence.
Always the Cossacks were on us. Always we held them off. Never a daypassed that we had not to wipe our sabres. That was soldiering indeed.
But there came a time between Wilna and Smolensk when the situationbecame impossible. Cossacks and even cold we could fight, but we couldnot fight hunger as well. Food must be got at all costs. That night Neysent for me to the waggon in which he slept. His great head was sunk onhis hands. Mind and body he was wearied to death.
"Colonel Gerard," said he, "things are going very badly with us. The menare starving. We must have food at all costs."
"The horses," I suggested.
"Save your handful of cavalry; there are none left."
"The band," said I.
He laughed, even in his despair.
"Why the band?" he asked.
"Fighting men are of value."
"Good," said he. "You would play the game down to the last card and sowould I. Good, Gerard, good!"
He clasped my hand in his. "But there is one chance for us yet, Gerard."He unhooked a lantern from the roof of the waggon and he laid it ona map which was stretched before him. "To the south of us," said he,"there lies the town of Minsk. I have word from a Russian deserter thatmuch corn has been stored in the town-hall. I wish you to take as manymen as you think best, set forth for Minsk, seize the corn, load anycarts which you may collect in the town, and bring
them to me betweenhere and Smolensk. If you fail it is but a detachment cut off. If yousucceed it is new life to the army."
He had not expressed himself well, for it was evident that if we failedit was not merely the loss of a detachment. It is quality as well asquantity which counts.
And yet how honourable a mission and how glorious a risk! If mortal mencould bring it, then the corn should come from Minsk. I said so, andspoke a few burning words about a brave man's duty until the Marshal wasso moved that he rose and, taking me affectionately by the shoulders,pushed me out of the waggon.
It was clear to me that in order to succeed in my enterprise I shouldtake a small force and depend rather upon surprise than upon numbers.A large body could not conceal itself, would have great difficulty ingetting food, and would cause all the Russians around us to concentratefor its certain destruction. On the other hand, if a small body ofcavalry could get past the Cossacks unseen it was probable that theywould find no troops to oppose them, for we knew that the main Russianarmy was several days' march behind us. This corn was meant, no doubt,for their consumption. A squadron of Hussars and thirty Polish Lancerswere all whom I chose for the venture. That very night we rode out ofthe camp, and struck south in the direction of Minsk.
Fortunately there was but a half moon, and we were able to pass withoutbeing attacked by the enemy. Twice we saw great fires burning amid thesnow, and around them a thick bristle of long poles. These were thelances of Cossacks, which they had stood upright while they slept. Itwould have been a great joy to us to have charged in amongst them, forwe had much to revenge, and the eyes of my comrades looked longinglyfrom me to those red flickering patches in the darkness. My faith, I wassorely tempted to do it, for it would have been a good lesson to teachthem that they must keep a few miles between themselves and a Frencharmy. It is the essence of good generalship, however, to keep one thingbefore one at a time, and so we rode silently on through the snow,leaving these Cossack bivouacs to right and left. Behind us the blacksky was all mottled with a line of flame which showed where our own poorwretches were trying to keep themselves alive for another day of miseryand starvation.
All night we rode slowly onward, keeping our horses' tails to the PoleStar. There were many tracks in the snow, and we kept to the line ofthese, that no one might remark that a body of cavalry had passed thatway.
These are the little precautions which mark the experienced officer.Besides, by keeping to the tracks we were most likely to find thevillages, and only in the villages could we hope to get food. The dawnof day found us in a thick fir-wood, the trees so loaded with snow thatthe light could hardly reach us. When we had found our way out of it itwas full daylight, the rim of the rising sun peeping over the edge ofthe great snow-plain and turning it crimson from end to end. I haltedmy Hussars and Lancers under the shadow of the wood, and I studiedthe country. Close to us there was a small farm-house. Beyond, at thedistance of several miles, was a village. Far away on the sky-linerose a considerable town all bristling with church towers. This must beMinsk. In no direction could I see any signs of troops. It was evidentthat we had passed through the Cossacks and that there was nothingbetween us and our goal. A joyous shout burst from my men when I toldthem our position, and we advanced rapidly toward the village.
I have said, however, that there was a small farm-house immediately infront of us. As we rode up to it I observed that a fine grey horsewith a military saddle was tethered by the door. Instantly I gallopedforward, but before I could reach it a man dashed out of the door, flunghimself on to the horse, and rode furiously away, the crisp, dry snowflying up in a cloud behind him. The sunlight gleamed upon his goldepaulettes, and I knew that he was a Russian officer. He would raise thewhole country-side if we did not catch him. I put spurs to Violette andflew after him. My troopers followed; but there was no horse among themto compare with Violette, and I knew well that if I could not catch theRussian I need expect no help from them.
But it is a swift horse indeed and a skilful rider who can hope toescape from Violette with Etienne Gerard in the saddle. He rode well,this young Russian, and his mount was a good one, but gradually we worehim down.
His face glanced continually over his shoulder--dark, handsome face,with eyes like an eagle--and I saw as I closed with him that he wasmeasuring the distance between us. Suddenly he half turned; there were aflash and a crack as his pistol bullet hummed past my ear.
Before he could draw his sword I was upon him; but he still spurredhis horse, and the two galloped together over the plain, I with my legagainst the Russian's and my left hand upon his right shoulder. I sawhis hand fly up to his mouth. Instantly I dragged him across my pommeland seized him by the throat, so that he could not swallow. His horseshot from under him, but I held him fast and Violette came to a stand.Sergeant Oudin of the Hussars was the first to join us. He was an oldsoldier, and he saw at a glance what I was after.
"Hold tight, Colonel," said he, "I'll do the rest."
He slipped out his knife, thrust the blade between the clenched teeth ofthe Russian, and turned it so as to force his mouth open. There, on histongue, was the little wad of wet paper which he had been so anxious toswallow. Oudin picked it out and I let go of the man's throat. From theway in which, half strangled as he was, he glanced at the paper I wassure that it was a message of extreme importance. His hands twitched asif he longed to snatch it from me. He shrugged his shoulders, however,and smiled good-humouredly when I apologised for my roughness.
"And now to business," said I, when he had done coughing and hawking."What is your name?"
"Alexis Barakoff."
"Your rank and regiment?"
"Captain of the Dragoons of Grodno."
"What is this note which you were carrying?"
"It is a line which I had written to my sweetheart."
"Whose name," said I, examining the address, "is the Hetman Platoff.Come, come, sir, this is an important military document, which you arecarrying from one general to another. Tell me this instant what it is."
"Read it and then you will know." He spoke perfect French, as do mostof the educated Russians. But he knew well that there is not one Frenchofficer in a thousand who knows a word of Russian. The inside of thenote contained one single line, which ran like this:--
"Pustj Franzuzy pridutt v Minsk. Min gotovy."
I stared at it, and I had to shake my head. Then I showed it to myHussars, but they could make nothing of it. The Poles were all roughfellows who could not read or write, save only the sergeant, who camefrom Memel, in East Prussia, and knew no Russian. It was maddening, forI felt that I had possession of some important secret upon which thesafety of the army might depend, and yet I could make no sense of it.Again I entreated our prisoner to translate it, and offered him hisfreedom if he would do so. He only smiled at my request.
I could not but admire him, for it was the very smile which I shouldhave myself smiled had I been in his position.
"At least," said I, "tell us the name of this village."
"It is Dobrova."
"And that is Minsk over yonder, I suppose."
"Yes, that is Minsk."
"Then we shall go to the village and we shall very soon find some onewho will translate this despatch."
So we rode onward together, a trooper with his carbine unslung on eitherside of our prisoner. The village was but a little place, and I set aguard at the ends of the single street, so that no one could escape fromit. It was necessary to call a halt and to find some food for the menand horses, since they had travelled all night and had a long journeystill before them.
There was one large stone house in the centre of the village, and tothis I rode. It was the house of the priest--a snuffy and ill-favouredold man who had not a civil answer to any of our questions. An uglierfellow I never met, but, my faith, it was very different with his onlydaughter, who kept house for him. She was a brunette, a rare thing inRussia, with creamy skin, raven hair, and a pair of the most gloriousdark eyes that ever kindled at t
he sight of a Hussar. From the firstglance I saw that she was mine. It was no time for love-making whena soldier's duty had to be done, but still, as I took the simple mealwhich they laid before me, I chatted lightly with the lady, and we werethe best of friends before an hour had passed. Sophie was her firstname, her second I never knew. I taught her to call me Etienne, and Itried to cheer her up, for her sweet face was sad and there were tearsin her beautiful dark eyes. I pressed her to tell me what it was whichwas grieving her.
"How can I be otherwise," said she, speaking French with a most adorablelisp, "when one of my poor countrymen is a prisoner in your hands? I sawhim between two of your Hussars as you rode into the village."
"It is the fortune of war," said I. "His turn to-day; mine, perhaps,to-morrow."
"But consider, Monsieur--" said she.
"Etienne," said I.
"Oh, Monsieur----"
"Etienne," said I.
"Well, then," she cried, beautifully flushed and desperate, "consider,Etienne, that this young officer will be taken back to your army andwill be starved or frozen, for if, as I hear, your own soldiers have ahard march, what will be the lot of a prisoner?"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"You have a kind face, Etienne," said she; "you would not condemn thispoor man to certain death. I entreat you to let him go."
Her delicate hand rested upon my sleeve, her dark eyes lookedimploringly into mine.
A sudden thought passed through my mind. I would grant her request, butI would demand a favour in return.
At my order the prisoner was brought up into the room.
"Captain Barakoff," said I, "this young lady has begged me to releaseyou, and I am inclined to do so. I would ask you to give your parolethat you will remain in this dwelling for twenty-four hours, and take nosteps to inform anyone of our movements."
"I will do so," said he.
"Then I trust in your honour. One man more or less can make nodifference in a struggle between great armies, and to take you back asa prisoner would be to condemn you to death. Depart, sir, and show yourgratitude not to me, but to the first French officer who falls into yourhands."
When he was gone I drew my paper from my pocket.
"Now, Sophie," said I, "I have done what you asked me, and all that Iask in return is that you will give me a lesson in Russian."
"With all my heart," said she.
"Let us begin on this," said I, spreading out the paper before her. "Letus take it word for word and see what it means."
She looked at the writing with some surprise. "It means," said she, "ifthe French come to Minsk all is lost." Suddenly a look of consternationpassed over her beautiful face. "Great Heavens!" she cried, "what is itthat I have done? I have betrayed my country! Oh, Etienne, your eyes arethe last for whom this message is meant. How could you be so cunning asto make a poor, simple-minded, and unsuspecting girl betray the cause ofher country?"
I consoled my poor Sophie as best I might, and I assured her that it wasno reproach to her that she should be outwitted by so old a campaignerand so shrewd a man as myself. But it was no time now for talk. Thismessage made it clear that the corn was indeed at Minsk, and that therewere no troops there to defend it. I gave a hurried order from thewindow, the trumpeter blew the assembly, and in ten minutes we had leftthe village behind us and were riding hard for the city, the gildeddomes and minarets of which glimmered above the snow of the horizon.Higher they rose and higher, until at last, as the sun sank toward thewest, we were in the broad main street, and galloped up it amid theshouts of the moujiks and the cries of frightened women until we foundourselves in front of the great town-hall. My cavalry I drew up in thesquare, and I, with my two sergeants, Oudin and Papilette, rushed intothe building.
Heavens! shall I ever forget the sight which greeted us? Right in frontof us was drawn up a triple line of Russian Grenadiers. Their musketsrose as we entered, and a crashing volley burst into our very faces.Oudin and Papilette dropped upon the floor, riddled with bullets.
For myself, my busby was shot away and I had two holes through mydolman. The Grenadiers ran at me with their bayonets. "Treason!" Icried. "We are betrayed! Stand to your horses!" I rushed out of thehall, but the whole square was swarming with troops.
From every side street Dragoons and Cossacks were riding down upon us,and such a rolling fire had burst from the surrounding houses that halfmy men and horses were on the ground. "Follow me!" I yelled, and sprangupon Violette, but a giant of a Russian Dragoon officer threw his armsround me and we rolled on the ground together.
He shortened his sword to kill me, but, changing his mind, he seizedme by the throat and banged my head against the stones until I wasunconscious. So it was that I became the prisoner of the Russians.
When I came to myself my only regret was that my captor had not beatenout my brains. There in the grand square of Minsk lay half my troopersdead or wounded, with exultant crowds of Russians gathered round them.
The rest in a melancholy group were herded into the porch of thetown-hall, a sotnia of Cossacks keeping guard over them. Alas! whatcould I say, what could I do? It was evident that I had led my men intoa carefully-baited trap. They had heard of our mission and they hadprepared for us. And yet there was that despatch which had caused me toneglect all precautions and to ride straight into the town. How was I toaccount for that? The tears ran down my cheeks as I surveyed the ruin ofmy squadron, and as I thought of the plight of my comrades of the GrandArmy who awaited the food which I was to have brought them. Ney hadtrusted me and I had failed him. How often he would strain his eyes overthe snow-fields for that convoy of grain which should never gladden hissight! My own fate was hard enough. An exile in Siberia was the bestwhich the future could bring me. But you will believe me, my friends,that it was not for his own sake, but for that of his starving comrades,that Etienne Gerard's cheeks were lined by his tears, frozen even asthey were shed.
"What's this?" said a gruff voice at my elbow; and I turned to face thehuge, black-bearded Dragoon who had dragged me from my saddle. "Look atthe Frenchman crying! I thought that the Corsican was followed by bravemen and not by children."
"If you and I were face to face and alone, I should let you see which isthe better man," said I.
For answer the brute struck me across the face with his open hand. Iseized him by the throat, but a dozen of his soldiers tore me away fromhim, and he struck me again while they held my hands.
"You base hound," I cried, "is this the way to treat an officer and agentleman?"
"We never asked you to come to Russia," said he. "If you do you musttake such treatment as you can get. I would shoot you off-hand if I hadmy way."
"You will answer for this some day," I cried, as I wiped the blood frommy moustache.
"If the Hetman Platoff is of my way of thinking you will not be alivethis time to-morrow," he answered, with a ferocious scowl. He added somewords in Russian to his troops, and instantly they all sprang to theirsaddles.
Poor Violette, looking as miserable as her master, was led round andI was told to mount her. My left arm was tied with a thong which wasfastened to the stirrup-iron of a sergeant of Dragoons. So in most sorryplight I and the remnant of my men set forth from Minsk.
Never have I met such a brute as this man Sergine, who commanded theescort. The Russian army contains the best and the worst in the world,but a worse than Major Sergine of the Dragoons of Kieff I have neverseen in any force outside of the guerillas of the Peninsula.
He was a man of great stature, with a fierce, hard face and a bristlingblack beard, which fell over his cuirass.
I have been told since that he was noted for his strength and hisbravery, and I could answer for it that he had the grip of a bear, forI had felt it when he tore me from my saddle. He was a wit, too, in hisway, and made continual remarks in Russian at our expense which set allhis Dragoons and Cossacks laughing. Twice he beat my comrades with hisriding-whip, and once he approached me with the lash swung over hisshoulder, but
there was something in my eyes which prevented it fromfalling.
So in misery and humiliation, cold and starving, we rode in adisconsolate column across the vast snow-plain. The sun had sunk, butstill in the long northern twilight we pursued our weary journey. Numbedand frozen, with my head aching from the blows it had received, I wasborne onward by Violette, hardly conscious of where I was or whither Iwas going. The little mare walked with a sunken head, only raising it tosnort her contempt for the mangy Cossack ponies who were round her.
But suddenly the escort stopped, and I found that we had halted in thesingle street of a small Russian village.
There was a church on one side, and on the other was a large stonehouse, the outline of which seemed to me to be familiar. I looked aroundme in the twilight, and then I saw that we had been led back to Dobrova,and that this house at the door of which we were waiting was the samehouse of the priest at which we had stopped in the morning. Here itwas that my charming Sophie in her innocence had translated the unluckymessage which had in some strange way led us to our ruin. To think thatonly a few hours before we had left this very spot with such high hopesand all fair prospects for our mission, and now the remnants of uswaited as beaten and humiliated men for whatever lot a brutal enemymight ordain! But such is the fate of the soldier, my friends--kissesto-day, blows to-morrow. Tokay in a palace, ditch-water in a hovel, fursor rags, a full purse or an empty pocket, ever swaying from the best tothe worst, with only his courage and his honour unchanging.
The Russian horsemen dismounted, and my poor fellows were ordered todo the same. It was already late, and it was clearly their intentionto spend the night in this village. There were great cheering and joyamongst the peasants when they understood that we had all been taken,and they flocked out of their houses with flaming torches, the womencarrying out tea and brandy for the Cossacks. Amongst others the oldpriest came forth--the same whom we had seen in the morning. He was allsmiles now, and he bore with him some hot punch on a salver, the reek ofwhich I can remember still. Behind her father was Sophie. With horrorI saw her clasp Major Sergine's hand as she congratulated him upon thevictory he had won and the prisoners he had made. The old priest, herfather, looked at me with an insolent face and made insulting remarksat my expense, pointing at me with his lean and grimy hand. His fairdaughter Sophie looked at me also, but she said nothing, and I couldread her tender pity in her dark eyes. At last she turned to MajorSergine and said something to him in Russian, on which he frowned andshook his head impatiently.
She appeared to plead with him, standing there in the flood of lightwhich shone from the open door of her father's house. My eyes were fixedupon the two faces, that of the beautiful girl and of the dark, fierceman, for my instinct told me that it was my own fate which was underdebate. For a long time the soldier shook his head, and then, at lastsoftening before her pleadings, he appeared to give way. He turned towhere I stood with my guardian sergeant beside me.
"These good people offer you the shelter of their roof for the night,"said he to me, looking me up and down with vindictive eyes. "I findit hard to refuse them, but I tell you straight that for my part I hadrather see you on the snow. It would cool your hot blood, you rascal ofa Frenchman!"
I looked at him with the contempt that I felt.
"You were born a savage and you will die one," said I.
My words stung him, for he broke into an oath, raising his whip as if hewould strike me.
"Silence, you crop-eared dog!" he cried. "Had I my way some of theinsolence would be frozen out of you before morning." Mastering hispassion, he turned upon Sophie with what he meant to be a gallantmanner. "If you have a cellar with a good lock," said he, "the fellowmay lie in it for the night, since you have done him the honour to takean interest in his comfort. I must have his parole that he will notattempt to play us any tricks, as I am answerable for him until I handhim over to the Hetman Platoff to-morrow."
His supercilious manner was more than I could endure.
He had evidently spoken French to the lady in order that I mightunderstand the humiliating way in which he referred to me.
"I will take no favour from you," said I. "You may do what you like, butI will never give you my parole."
The Russian shrugged his great shoulders, and turned away as if thematter were ended.
"Very well, my fine fellow, so much the worse for your fingers and toes.We shall see how you are in the morning after a night in the snow."
"One moment, Major Sergine," cried Sophie. "You must not be so hard uponthis prisoner. There are some special reasons why he has a claim uponour kindness and mercy."
The Russian looked with suspicion upon his face from her to me.
"What are the special reasons? You certainly seem to take a remarkableinterest in this Frenchman," said he.
"The chief reason is that he has this very morning of his own accordreleased Captain Alexis Barakoff, of the Dragoons of Grodno."
"It is true," said Barakoff, who had come out of the house. "He capturedme this morning, and he released me upon parole rather than take me backto the French army, where I should have been starved."
"Since Colonel Gerard has acted so generously you will surely, nowthat fortune has changed, allow us to offer him the poor shelter of ourcellar upon this bitter night," said Sophie. "It is a small return forhis generosity."
But the Dragoon was still in the sulks.
"Let him give me his parole first that he will not attempt to escape,"said he. "Do you hear, sir? Do you give me your parole?"
"I give you nothing," said I.
"Colonel Gerard," cried Sophie, turning to me with a coaxing smile, "youwill give me your parole, will you not?"
"To you, mademoiselle, I can refuse nothing. I will give you my parole,with pleasure."
"There, Major Sergine," cried Sophie, in triumph, "that is surelysufficient. You have heard him say that he gives me his parole. I willbe answerable for his safety."
In an ungracious fashion my Russian bear grunted his consent, and so Iwas led into the house, followed by the scowling father and by thebig, black-bearded Dragoon. In the basement there was a large and roomychamber, where the winter logs were stored. Thither it was that I wasled, and I was given to understand that this was to be my lodging forthe night. One side of this bleak apartment was heaped up to the ceilingwith fagots of firewood. The rest of the room was stone-flagged andbare-walled, with a single, deep-set window upon one side, which wassafely guarded with iron bars. For light I had a large stable lantern,which swung from a beam of the low ceiling. Major Sergine smiled as hetook this down, and swung it round so as to throw its light into everycorner of that dreary chamber.
"How do you like our Russian hotels, monsieur?" he asked, with hishateful sneer. "They are not very grand, but they are the best that wecan give you. Perhaps the next time that you Frenchmen take a fancy totravel you will choose some other country where they will make you morecomfortable." He stood laughing at me, his white teeth gleaming throughhis beard. Then he left me, and I heard the great key creak in the lock.
For an hour of utter misery, chilled in body and soul, I sat upon a pileof fagots, my face sunk upon my hands and my mind full of the saddestthoughts. It was cold enough within those four walls, but I thought ofthe sufferings of my poor troopers outside, and I sorrowed with theirsorrow. Then I paced up and down, and I clapped my hands together andkicked my feet against the walls to keep them from being frozen. Thelamp gave out some warmth, but still it was bitterly cold, and I had hadno food since morning. It seemed to me that everyone had forgotten me,but at last I heard the key turn in the lock, and who should enter butmy prisoner of the morning, Captain Alexis Barakoff. A bottle of wineprojected from under his arm, and he carried a great plate of hot stewin front of him.
"Hush!" said he; "not a word! Keep up your heart! I cannot stop toexplain, for Sergine is still with us. Keep awake and ready!" With thesehurried words he laid down the welcome food and ran out of the room.
"Keep
awake and ready!" The words rang in my ears. I ate my food andI drank my wine, but it was neither food nor wine which had warmed theheart within me. What could those words of Barakoff mean?
Why was I to remain awake? For what was I to be ready? Was it possiblethat there was a chance yet of escape? I have never respected the manwho neglects his prayers at all other times and yet prays when he is inperil. It is like a bad soldier who pays no respect to the colonel savewhen he would demand a favour of him. And yet when I thought of thesalt-mines of Siberia on the one side and of my mother in France uponthe other, I could not help a prayer rising, not from my lips, but frommy heart, that the words of Barakoff might mean all that I hoped. Buthour after hour struck upon the village clock, and still I heard nothingsave the call of the Russian sentries in the street outside.
Then at last my heart leaped within me, for I heard a light step in thepassage. An instant later the key turned, the door opened, and Sophiewas in the room.
"Monsieur--" she cried.
"Etienne," said I.
"Nothing will change you," said she. "But is it possible that you do nothate me? Have you forgiven me the trick which I played you?"
"What trick?" I asked.
"Good heavens! Is it possible that even now you have not understood it?You have asked me to translate the despatch. I have told you that itmeant, 'If the French come to Minsk all is lost.'"
"What did it mean, then?"
"It means, 'Let the French come to Minsk. We are awaiting them."'
I sprang back from her.
"You betrayed me!" I cried. "You lured me into this trap. It is to youthat I owe the death and capture of my men. Fool that I was to trust awoman!"
"Do not be unjust, Colonel Gerard. I am a Russian woman, and my firstduty is to my country. Would you not wish a French girl to have acted asI have done? Had I translated the message correctly you would not havegone to Minsk and your squadron would have escaped. Tell me that youforgive me!"
She looked bewitching as she stood pleading her cause in front of me.And yet, as I thought of my dead men, I could not take the hand whichshe held out to me.
"Very good," said she, as she dropped it by her side.
"You feel for your own people and I feel for mine, and so we are equal.But you have said one wise and kindly thing within these walls, ColonelGerard. You have said, 'One man more or less can make no difference ina struggle between two great armies.' Your lesson of nobility is notwasted. Behind those fagots is an unguarded door. Here is the key to it.Go forth, Colonel Gerard, and I trust that we may never look upon eachother's faces again."
I stood for an instant with the key in my hand and my head in a whirl.Then I handed it back to her.
"I cannot do it," I said.
"Why not?"
"I have given my parole."
"To whom?" she asked.
"Why, to you."
"And I release you from it."
My heart bounded with joy. Of course, it was true what she said. Ihad refused to give my parole to Sergine. I owed him no duty. If sherelieved me from my promise my honour was clear. I took the key from herhand.
"You will find Captain Barakoff at the end of the village street," saidshe. "We of the North never forget either an injury or a kindness. Hehas your mare and your sword waiting for you. Do not delay an instant,for in two hours it will be dawn."
So I passed out into the star-lit Russian night, and had that lastglimpse of Sophie as she peered after me through the open door. Shelooked wistfully at me as if she expected something more than the coldthanks which I gave her, but even the humblest man has his pride, and Iwill not deny that mine was hurt by the deception which she had playedupon me. I could not have brought myself to kiss her hand, far less herlips. The door led into a narrow alley, and at the end of it stood amuffled figure, who held Violette by the bridle.
"You told me to be kind to the next French officer whom I found indistress," said he. "Good luck! Bon voyage!" he whispered, as I boundedinto the saddle.
"Remember, 'Poltava' is the watchword."
It was well that he had given it to me, for twice I had to pass Cossackpickets before I was clear of the lines.
I had just ridden past the last vedettes and hoped that I was a free managain, when there was a soft thudding in the snow behind me, and a heavyman upon a great black horse came swiftly after me. My first impulse wasto put spurs to Violette. My second, as I saw a long black beard againsta steel cuirass, was to halt and await him.
"I thought that it was you, you dog of a Frenchman," he cried, shakinghis drawn sword at me. "So you have broken your parole, you rascal!"
"I gave no parole."
"You lie, you hound!"
I looked around and no one was coming. The vedettes were motionless anddistant. We were all alone, with the moon above and the snow beneath.Fortune has ever been my friend.
"I gave you no parole."
"You gave it to the lady."
"Then I will answer for it to the lady."
"That would suit you better, no doubt. But, unfortunately, you will haveto answer for it to me."
"I am ready."
"Your sword, too! There is treason in this! Ah, I see it all! The womanhas helped you. She shall see Siberia for this night's work."
The words were his death-warrant. For Sophie's sake I could not let himgo back alive. Our blades crossed, and an instant later mine was throughhis black beard and deep in his throat. I was on the ground almost assoon as he, but the one thrust was enough. He died, snapping his teethat my ankles like a savage wolf.
Two days later I had rejoined the army at Smolensk, and was a part oncemore of that dreary procession which tramped onward through the snow,leaving a long weal of blood to show the path which it had taken.
Enough, my friends; I would not re-awaken the memory of those days ofmisery and death. They still come to haunt me in my dreams. When wehalted at last in Warsaw we had left behind us our guns, our transport,and three-fourths of our comrades. But we did not leave behind us thehonour of Etienne Gerard. They have said that I broke my parole. Letthem beware how they say it to my face, for the story is as I tell it,and old as I am my forefinger is not too weak to press a trigger when myhonour is in question.