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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1554-0.txt b/1554-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1f2e3f --- /dev/null +++ b/1554-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2155 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Adieu + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: December, 1998 [Etext #1554] +Posting Date: February 26, 2010 +Last Updated: November 21, 2016 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +ADIEU + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + DEDICATION + + To Prince Frederic Schwartzenburg + + + + + + +ADIEU + + + + +CHAPTER I. AN OLD MONASTERY + + +“Come, deputy of the Centre, forward! Quick step! march! if we want to +be in time to dine with the others. Jump, marquis! there, that’s right! +why, you can skip across a stubble-field like a deer!” + +These words were said by a huntsman peacefully seated at the edge of the +forest of Ile-Adam, who was finishing an Havana cigar while waiting for +his companion, who had lost his way in the tangled underbrush of the +wood. At his side four panting dogs were watching, as he did, the +personage he addressed. To understand how sarcastic were these +exhortations, repeated at intervals, we should state that the +approaching huntsman was a stout little man whose protuberant stomach +was the evidence of a truly ministerial “embonpoint.” He was struggling +painfully across the furrows of a vast wheat-field recently harvested, +the stubble of which considerably impeded him; while to add to his other +miseries the sun’s rays, striking obliquely on his face, collected an +abundance of drops of perspiration. Absorbed in the effort to maintain +his equilibrium, he leaned, now forward, now back, in close imitation +of the pitching of a carriage when violently jolted. The weather looked +threatening. Though several spaces of blue sky still parted the thick +black clouds toward the horizon, a flock of fleecy vapors were advancing +with great rapidity and drawing a light gray curtain from east to +west. As the wind was acting only on the upper region of the air, the +atmosphere below it pressed down the hot vapors of the earth. Surrounded +by masses of tall trees, the valley through which the hunter struggled +felt like a furnace. Parched and silent, the forest seemed thirsty. The +birds, even the insects, were voiceless; the tree-tops scarcely waved. +Those persons who may still remember the summer of 1819 can imagine the +woes of the poor deputy, who was struggling along, drenched in sweat, +to regain his mocking friend. The latter, while smoking his cigar, had +calculated from the position of the sun that it must be about five in +the afternoon. + +“Where the devil are we?” said the stout huntsman, mopping his +forehead and leaning against the trunk of a tree nearly opposite to +his companion, for he felt unequal to the effort of leaping the ditch +between them. + +“That’s for me to ask you,” said the other, laughing, as he lay among +the tall brown brake which crowned the bank. Then, throwing the end of +his cigar into the ditch, he cried out vehemently: “I swear by Saint +Hubert that never again will I trust myself in unknown territory with a +statesman, though he be, like you, my dear d’Albon, a college mate.” + +“But, Philippe, have you forgotten your French? Or have you left your +wits in Siberia?” replied the stout man, casting a sorrowfully comic +look at a sign-post about a hundred feet away. + +“True, true,” cried Philippe, seizing his gun and springing with a bound +into the field and thence to the post. “This way, d’Albon, this way,” + he called back to his friend, pointing to a broad paved path and reading +aloud the sign: “‘From Baillet to Ile-Adam.’ We shall certainly find +the path to Cassan, which must branch from this one between here and +Ile-Adam.” + +“You are right, colonel,” said Monsieur d’Albon, replacing upon his head +the cap with which he had been fanning himself. + +“Forward then, my respectable privy councillor,” replied Colonel +Philippe, whistling to the dogs, who seemed more willing to obey him +than the public functionary to whom they belonged. + +“Are you aware, marquis,” said the jeering soldier, “that we still have +six miles to go? That village over there must be Baillet.” + +“Good heavens!” cried the marquis, “go to Cassan if you must, but you’ll +go alone. I prefer to stay here, in spite of the coming storm, and +wait for the horse you can send me from the chateau. You’ve played me a +trick, Sucy. We were to have had a nice little hunt not far from Cassan, +and beaten the coverts I know. Instead of that, you have kept me running +like a hare since four o’clock this morning, and all I’ve had for +breakfast is a cup of milk. Now, if you ever have a petition before the +Court, I’ll make you lose it, however just your claim.” + +The poor discouraged huntsman sat down on a stone that supported the +signpost, relieved himself of his gun and his gamebag, and heaved a long +sigh. + +“France! such are thy deputies!” exclaimed Colonel de Sucy, laughing. +“Ah! my poor d’Albon, if you had been like me six years in the wilds of +Siberia--” + +He said no more, but he raised his eyes to heaven as if that anguish +were between himself and God. + +“Come, march on!” he added. “If you sit still you are lost.” + +“How can I, Philippe? It is an old magisterial habit to sit still. On my +honor! I’m tired out--If I had only killed a hare!” + +The two men presented a rather rare contrast: the public functionary +was forty-two years of age and seemed no more than thirty, whereas the +soldier was thirty, and seemed forty at the least. Both wore the red +rosette of the officers of the Legion of honor. A few spare locks of +black hair mixed with white, like the wing of a magpie, escaped from +the colonel’s cap, while handsome brown curls adorned the brow of the +statesman. One was tall, gallant, high-strung, and the lines of his +pallid face showed terrible passions or frightful griefs. The other +had a face that was brilliant with health, and jovially worth of an +epicurean. Both were deeply sun-burned, and their high gaiters of tanned +leather showed signs of the bogs and the thickets they had just come +through. + +“Come,” said Monsieur de Sucy, “let us get on. A short hour’s march, and +we shall reach Cassan in time for a good dinner.” + +“It is easy to see you have never loved,” replied the councillor, with a +look that was pitifully comic; “you are as relentless as article 304 of +the penal code.” + +Philippe de Sucy quivered; his broad brow contracted; his face became +as sombre as the skies above them. Some memory of awful bitterness +distorted for a moment his features, but he said nothing. Like all +strong men, he drove down his emotions to the depths of his heart; +thinking perhaps, as simple characters are apt to think, that there was +something immodest in unveiling griefs when human language cannot +render their depths and may only rouse the mockery of those who do not +comprehend them. Monsieur d’Albon had one of those delicate natures +which divine sorrows, and are instantly sympathetic to the emotion they +have involuntarily aroused. He respected his friend’s silence, rose, +forgot his fatigue, and followed him silently, grieved to have touched a +wound that was evidently not healed. + +“Some day, my friend,” said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking +him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, “I will relate to +you my life. To-day I cannot.” + +They continued their way in silence. When the colonel’s pain seemed +soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or +rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of the +forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching paths, +hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask hospitality. +Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight smoke rising +among the trees; he stopped, looked more attentively, and saw, in the +midst of a vast copse, the dark-green branches of several pine-trees. + +“A house! a house!” he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in crying +“Land!” + +Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who had fallen +into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically. + +“I’d rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair here,” he +said, “than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux.” + +These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from the +councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of which +glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree trunks. + +“Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory,” cried the +marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through which +they could see, in the midst of a large park, a building constructed in +the style of the monasteries of old. “How those rascals the monks knew +how to choose their sites!” + +This last exclamation was an expression of surprise and pleasure at the +poetical hermitage which met his eyes. The house stood on the slope of +the mountain, at the summit of which is the village of Nerville. The +great centennial oaks of the forest which encircled the dwelling made +the place an absolute solitude. The main building, formerly occupied by +the monks, faced south. The park seemed to have about forty acres. +Near the house lay a succession of green meadows, charmingly crossed by +several clear rivulets, with here and there a piece of water naturally +placed without the least apparent artifice. Trees of elegant shape and +varied foliage were distributed about. Grottos, cleverly managed, and +massive terraces with dilapidated steps and rusty railings, gave +a peculiar character to this lone retreat. Art had harmonized her +constructions with the picturesque effects of nature. Human passions +seemed to die at the feet of those great trees, which guarded this +asylum from the tumult of the world as they shaded it from the fires of +the sun. + +“How desolate!” thought Monsieur d’Albon, observing the sombre +expression which the ancient building gave to the landscape, gloomy as +though a curse were on it. It seemed a fatal spot deserted by man. Ivy +had stretched its tortuous muscles, covered by its rich green mantle, +everywhere. Brown or green, red or yellow mosses and lichen spread their +romantic tints on trees and seats and roofs and stones. The crumbling +window-casings were hollowed by rain, defaced by time; the balconies +were broken, the terraces demolished. Some of the outside shutters hung +from a single hinge. The rotten doors seemed quite unable to resist an +assailant. Covered with shining tufts of mistletoe, the branches of the +neglected fruit-trees gave no sign of fruit. Grass grew in the paths. +Such ruin and desolation cast a weird poesy on the scene, filling the +souls of the spectators with dreamy thoughts. A poet would have stood +there long, plunged in a melancholy reverie, admiring this disorder +so full of harmony, this destruction which was not without its grace. +Suddenly, the brown tiles shone, the mosses glittered, fantastic shadows +danced upon the meadows and beneath the trees; fading colors revived; +striking contrasts developed, the foliage of the trees and shrubs +defined itself more clearly in the light. Then--the light went out. The +landscape seemed to have spoken, and now was silent, returning to its +gloom, or rather to the soft sad tones of an autumnal twilight. + +“It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty,” said the marquis, beginning +to view the house with the eyes of a land owner. “I wonder to whom it +belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an exquisite +spot.” + +At that instant a woman sprang from beneath a chestnut-tree standing to +the right of the gate, and, without making any noise, passed before the +marquis as rapidly as the shadow of a cloud. This vision made him mute +with surprise. + +“Why, Albon, what’s the matter?” asked the colonel. + +“I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake,” replied the +marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to get +another sight of the phantom. + +“She must be beneath that fig-tree,” he said, pointing to the foliage of +a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate. + +“She! who?” + +“How can I tell?” replied Monsieur d’Albon. “A strange woman rose up +there, just before me,” he said in a low voice; “she seemed to come from +the world of shades rather than from the land of the living. She is so +slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her face was as +white as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. She looked +at me as she flitted by, and though I may say I’m no coward, that cold +immovable look froze the blood in my veins.” + +“Is she pretty?” asked Philippe. + +“I don’t know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that face.” + +“Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!” cried the colonel. +“Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter that +singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and the red +lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn’t the place look to you as if it +belonged to the devil?--perhaps he inherited it from the monks. Come, +let us pursue the black and white lady--forward, march!” cried Philippe, +with forced gaiety. + +At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was something like +that of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a few +shrubs sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking wave. In +vain they listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and kept the +secret of those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved at all. + +“It is very singular!” said Philippe, as they skirted the park wall. + +The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which led to the +village of Chauvry. After following this path some way toward the main +road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to the principal +facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side the dilapidation and +disorder of the premises had reached their height. Immense cracks +furrowed the walls of the house, which was built on three sides of +a square. Fragments of tiles and slates lying on the ground, and the +dilapidated condition of the roofs, were evidence of a total want of +care on the part of the owners. The fruit had fallen from the trees and +lay rotting on the ground; a cow was feeding on the lawn and treading +down the flowers in the borders, while a goat browsed on the shoots of +the vines and munched the unripe grapes. + +“Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized,” said the +colonel, pulling the chain of a bell; but the bell was without a +clapper. + +The huntsmen heard nothing but the curiously sharp noise of a rusty +spring. Though very dilapidated, a little door made in the wall beside +the iron gates resisted all their efforts to open it. + +“Well, well, this is getting to be exciting,” said de Sucy to his +companion. + +“If I were not a magistrate,” replied Monsieur d’Albon, “I should think +that woman was a witch.” + +As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed her warm +muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing human beings. +Then a woman, if that name could be applied to the indefinable being who +suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away the cow by its rope. +This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, beneath which trailed +long locks of hair in color and shape like the flax on a distaff. She +wore no fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black and gray stripes, too +short by several inches, exposed her legs. She might have belonged to +some tribe of Red-Skins described by Cooper, for her legs, neck, and +arms were the color of brick. No ray of intelligence enlivened her +vacant face. A few whitish hairs served her for eyebrows; the eyes +themselves, of a dull blue, were cold and wan; and her mouth was so +formed as to show the teeth, which were crooked, but as white as those +of a dog. + +“Here, my good woman!” called Monsieur de Sucy. + +She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly expression at the +two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful smile to +her face. + +“Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong here?” + +To these questions and several others which the two friends alternately +addressed to her, she answered only with guttural sounds that seemed +more like the growl of an animal than the voice of a human being. + +“She must be deaf and dumb,” said the marquis. + +“Bons-Hommes!” cried the peasant woman. + +“Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the Bons-Hommes,” + said the marquis. + +He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the peasant +woman colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of the +cow, which was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two hunters, +examining every part of their clothing; then she yelped, growled, and +clucked, but did not speak. + +“What is your name?” said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as if he +meant to mesmerize her. + +“Genevieve,” she said, laughing with a silly air. + +“The cow is the most intelligent being we have seen so far,” said the +marquis. “I shall fire my gun and see if that will being some one.” + +Just as d’Albon raised his gun, the colonel stopped him with a gesture, +and pointed to the form of a woman, probably the one who had so keenly +piqued his curiosity. At this moment she seemed lost in the deepest +meditation, and was coming with slow steps along a distant pathway, so +that the two friends had ample time to examine her. + +She was dressed in a ragged gown of black satin. Her long hair fell in +masses of curls over her forehead, around her shoulders, and below her +waist, serving her for a shawl. Accustomed no doubt to this disorder, +she seldom pushed her hair from her forehead; and when she did so, it +was with a sudden toss of her head which only for a moment cleared her +forehead and eyes from the thick veil. Her gesture, like that of an +animal, had a remarkable mechanical precision, the quickness of which +seemed wonderful in a woman. The huntsmen were amazed to see her +suddenly leap up on the branch of an apple-tree, and sit there with the +ease of a bird. She gathered an apple and ate it; then she dropped to +the ground with the graceful ease we admire in a squirrel. Her limbs +possessed an elasticity which took from every movement the slightest +appearance of effort or constraint. She played upon the turf, rolling +herself about like a child; then, suddenly, she flung her feet and hands +forward, and lay at full length on the grass, with the grace and natural +ease of a young cat asleep in the sun. Thunder sounded in the distance, +and she turned suddenly, rising on her hands and knees with the rapidity +of a dog which hears a coming footstep. + +The effects of this singular attitude was to separate into two heavy +masses the volume of her black hair, which now fell on either side of +her head, and allowed the two spectators to admire the white shoulders +glistening like daisies in a field, and the throat, the perfection of +which allowed them to judge of the other beauties of her figure. + +Suddenly she uttered a distressful cry and rose to her feet. Her +movements succeeded each other with such airiness and grace that she +seemed not a creature of this world but a daughter of the atmosphere, as +sung in the poems of Ossian. She ran toward a piece of water, shook one +of her legs lightly to cast off her shoe, and began to dabble her foot, +white as alabaster, in the current, admiring, perhaps, the undulations +she thus produced upon the surface of the water. Then she knelt down at +the edge of the stream and amused herself, like a child, in casting in +her long tresses and pulling them abruptly out, to watch the shower of +drops that glittered down, looking, as the sunlight struck athwart them, +like a chaplet of pearls. + +“That woman is mad!” cried the marquis. + +A hoarse cry, uttered by Genevieve, seemed uttered as a warning to the +unknown woman, who turned suddenly, throwing back her hair from either +side of her face. At this instant the colonel and Monsieur d’Albon could +distinctly see her features; she, herself, perceiving the two friends, +sprang to the iron railing with the lightness and rapidity of a deer. + +“Adieu!” she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, the melody of which did +not convey the slightest feeling or the slightest thought. + +Monsieur d’Albon admired the long lashes of her eyelids, the blackness +of her eyebrows, and the dazzling whiteness of a skin devoid of even the +faintest tinge of color. Tiny blue veins alone broke the uniformity of +its pure white tones. When the marquis turned to his friend as if to +share with him his amazement at the sight of this singular creature, he +found him stretched on the ground as if dead. D’Albon fired his gun +in the air to summon assistance, crying out “Help! help!” and then +endeavored to revive the colonel. At the sound of the shot, the unknown +woman, who had hitherto stood motionless, fled away with the rapidity +of an arrow, uttering cries of fear like a wounded animal, and running +hither and thither about the meadow with every sign of the greatest +terror. + +Monsieur d’Albon, hearing the rumbling of a carriage on the high-road +to Ile-Adam, waved his handkerchief and shouted to its occupants for +assistance. The carriage was immediately driven up to the old monastery, +and the marquis recognized his neighbors, Monsieur and Madame de +Granville, who at once gave up their carriage to the service of the +two gentlemen. Madame de Granville had with her, by chance, a bottle of +salts, which revived the colonel for a moment. When he opened his eyes +he turned them to the meadow, where the unknown woman was still running +and uttering her distressing cries. A smothered exclamation escaped +him, which seemed to express a sense of horror; then he closed his eyes +again, and made a gesture as if to implore his friend to remove him from +that sight. + +Monsieur and Madame de Granville placed their carriage entirely at the +disposal of the marquis, assuring him courteously that they would like +to continue their way on foot. + +“Who is that lady?” asked the marquis, signing toward the unknown woman. + +“I believe she comes from Moulins,” replied Monsieur de Granville. “She +is the Comtesse de Vandieres, and they say she is mad; but as she +has only been here two months I will not vouch for the truth of these +hearsays.” + +Monsieur d’Albon thanked his friends, and placing the colonel in the +carriage, started with him for Cassan. + +“It is she!” cried Philippe, recovering his senses. + +“Who is she?” asked d’Albon. + +“Stephanie. Ah, dead and living, living and mad! I fancied I was dying.” + +The prudent marquis, appreciating the gravity of the crisis through +which his friend was passing, was careful not to question or excite him; +he was only anxious to reach the chateau, for the change which had taken +place in the colonel’s features, in fact in his whole person, made him +fear for his friend’s reason. As soon, therefore, as the carriage had +reached the main street of Ile-Adam, he dispatched the footman to the +village doctor, so that the colonel was no sooner fairly in his bed at +the chateau than the physician was beside him. + +“If monsieur had not been many hours without food the shock would have +killed him,” said the doctor. + +After naming the first precautions, the doctor left the room, to +prepare, himself, a calming potion. The next day, Monsieur de Sucy was +better, but the doctor still watched him carefully. + +“I will admit to you, monsieur le marquis,” he said, “that I have feared +some affection of the brain. Monsieur de Sucy has received a violent +shock; his passions are strong; but, in him, the first blow decides all. +To-morrow he may be entirely out of danger.” + +The doctor was not mistaken; and the following day he allowed the +marquis to see his friend. + +“My dear d’Albon,” said Philippe, pressing his hand, “I am going to ask +a kindness of you. Go to the Bons-Hommes, and find out all you can of +the lady we saw there; and return to me as quickly as you can; I shall +count the minutes.” + +Monsieur d’Albon mounted his horse at once, and galloped to the old +abbey. When he arrived there, he saw before the iron gate a tall, spare +man with a very kindly face, who answered in the affirmative when asked +if he lived there. Monsieur d’Albon then informed him of the reasons for +his visit. + +“What! monsieur,” said the other, “was it you who fired that fatal shot? +You very nearly killed my poor patient.” + +“But, monsieur, I fired in the air.” + +“You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at her.” + +“Then we must not reproach each other, monsieur, for the sight of the +countess has almost killed my friend, Monsieur de Sucy.” + +“Heavens! can you mean Baron Philippe de Sucy?” cried the doctor, +clasping his hands. “Did he go to Russia; was he at the passage of the +Beresina?” + +“Yes,” replied d’Albon, “he was captured by the Cossacks and kept for +five years in Siberia; he recovered his liberty a few months ago.” + +“Come in, monsieur,” said the master of the house, leading the marquis +into a room on the lower floor where everything bore the marks of +capricious destruction. The silken curtains beside the windows were +torn, while those of muslin remained intact. + +“You see,” said the tall old man, as they entered, “the ravages +committed by that dear creature, to whom I devote myself. She is my +niece; in spite of the impotence of my art, I hope some day to +restore her reason by attempting a method which can only be employed, +unfortunately, by very rich people.” + +Then, like all persons living in solitude who are afflicted with an ever +present and ever renewed grief, he related to the marquis at length the +following narrative, which is here condensed, and relieved of the many +digressions made by both the narrator and the listener. + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA + + +Marechal Victor, when he started, about nine at night, from the +heights of Studzianka, which he had defended, as the rear-guard of the +retreating army, during the whole day of November 28th, 1812, left a +thousand men behind him, with orders to protect to the last possible +moment whichever of the two bridges across the Beresina might still +exist. This rear-guard had devoted itself to the task of saving a +frightful multitude of stragglers overcome by the cold, who obstinately +refused to leave the bivouacs of the army. The heroism of this generous +troop proved useless. The stragglers who flocked in masses to the banks +of the Beresina found there, unhappily, an immense number of carriages, +caissons, and articles of all kinds which the army had been forced to +abandon when effecting its passage of the river on the 27th and 28th of +November. Heirs to such unlooked-for riches, the unfortunate men, stupid +with cold, took up their abode in the deserted bivouacs, broke up the +material which they found there to build themselves cabins, made fuel of +everything that came to hand, cut up the frozen carcasses of the +horses for food, tore the cloth and the curtains from the carriages +for coverlets, and went to sleep, instead of continuing their way +and crossing quietly during the night that cruel Beresina, which an +incredible fatality had already made so destructive to the army. + +The apathy of these poor soldiers can only be conceived by those who +remember to have crossed vast deserts of snow without other perspective +than a snow horizon, without other drink than snow, without other bed +than snow, without other food than snow or a few frozen beet-roots, a +few handfuls of flour, or a little horseflesh. Dying of hunger, thirst, +fatigue, and want of sleep, these unfortunates reached a shore where +they saw before them wood, provisions, innumerable camp equipages, +and carriages,--in short a whole town at their service. The village of +Studzianka had been wholly taken to pieces and conveyed from the heights +on which it stood to the plain. However forlorn and dangerous that +refuge might be, its miseries and its perils only courted men who had +lately seen nothing before them but the awful deserts of Russia. It was, +in fact, a vast asylum which had an existence of twenty-four hours only. + +Utter lassitude, and the sense of unexpected comfort, made that mass of +men inaccessible to every thought but that of rest. Though the +artillery of the left wing of the Russians kept up a steady fire on this +mass,--visible like a stain now black, now flaming, in the midst of the +trackless snow,--this shot and shell seemed to the torpid creatures only +one inconvenience the more. It was like a thunderstorm, despised by all +because the lightning strikes so few; the balls struck only here and +there, the dying, the sick, the dead sometimes! Stragglers arrived in +groups continually; but once here those perambulating corpses separated; +each begged for himself a place near a fire; repulsed repeatedly, they +met again, to obtain by force the hospitality already refused to them. +Deaf to the voice of some of their officers, who warned them of probable +destruction on the morrow, they spent the amount of courage necessary to +cross the river in building that asylum of a night, in making one meal +that they themselves doomed to be their last. The death that awaited +them they considered no evil, provided they could have that one night’s +sleep. They thought nothing evil but hunger, thirst, and cold. When +there was no more wood or food or fire, horrible struggles took place +between fresh-comers and the rich who possessed a shelter. The weakest +succumbed. + +At last there came a moment when a number, pursued by the Russians, +found only snow on which to bivouac, and these lay down to rise no more. +Insensibly this mass of almost annihilated beings became so compact, so +deaf, so torpid, so happy perhaps, that Marechal Victor, who had +been their heroic defender by holding twenty thousand Russians under +Wittgenstein at bay, was forced to open a passage by main force through +this forest of men in order to cross the Beresina with five thousand +gallant fellows whom he was taking to the emperor. The unfortunate +malingerers allowed themselves to be crushed rather than stir; they +perished in silence, smiling at their extinguished fires, without a +thought of France. + +It was not until ten o’clock that night that Marechal Victor reached the +bank of the river. Before crossing the bridge which led to Zembin, he +confided the fate of his own rear-guard now left in Studzianka to Eble, +the savior of all those who survived the calamities of the Beresina. +It was towards midnight when this great general, followed by one brave +officer, left the cabin he occupied near the bridge, and studied the +spectacle of that improvised camp placed between the bank of the river +and Studzianka. The Russian cannon had ceased to thunder. Innumerable +fires, which, amid that trackless waste of snow, burned pale and +scarcely sent out any gleams, illumined here and there by sudden flashes +forms and faces that were barely human. Thirty thousand poor wretches, +belonging to all nations, from whom Napoleon had recruited his Russian +army, were trifling away their lives with brutish indifference. + +“Let us save them!” said General Eble to the officer who accompanied +him. “To-morrow morning the Russians will be masters of Studzianka. We +must burn the bridge the moment they appear. Therefore, my friend, take +your courage in your hand! Go to the heights. Tell General Fournier +he has barely time to evacuate his position, force a way through this +crowd, and cross the bridge. When you have seen him in motion follow +him. Find men you can trust, and the moment Fournier had crossed +the bridge, burn, without pity, huts, equipages, caissons, +carriages,--EVERYTHING! Drive that mass of men to the bridge. Compel all +that has two legs to get to the other side of the river. The burning of +everything--EVERYTHING--is now our last resource. If Berthier had let +me destroy those damned camp equipages, this river would swallow only +my poor pontoniers, those fifty heroes who will save the army, but who +themselves will be forgotten.” + +The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He felt that +Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do justice +to those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of Beresina, to +destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those heroes still +lives--or, to speak more correctly, suffers--in a village, totally +ignored. + +The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer gone a +hundred yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a number +of his weary pontoniers, and began the work,--the charitable work of +burning the bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing the sleepers, +thus dislodged, to cross the river. + +Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without difficulty, the +only wooden house still left standing in Studzianka. + +“This barrack seems pretty full, comrade,” he said to a man whom he saw +by the doorway. + +“If you can get in you’ll be a clever trooper,” replied the officer, +without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the bark +of the logs of which the house was built. + +“Is that you, Philippe?” said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend by +the tones of his voice. + +“Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?” replied Monsieur de Sucy, looking +at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three years of +age. “I thought you were the other side of that cursed river. What are +you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our dessert? You’ll be +welcome,” and he went on slicing off the bark, which he gave as a sort +of provender to his horse. + +“I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to make +for Zembin. You’ll have barely enough time to get through that crowd of +men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and force them +to march.” + +“You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two friends +I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be dead +already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don’t eat myself. Have +you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours since anything has gone +into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a madman--just to keep a +little warmth and courage in me.” + +“Poor Philippe, I have nothing--nothing! But where’s your general,--in +this house?” + +“No, don’t go there; the place is full of wounded. Go up the street; +you’ll find on your left a sort of pig-pen; the general is there. +Good-bye, old fellow. If we ever dance a trenis on a Paris floor--” + +He did not end his sentence; the north wind blew at that moment with +such ferocity that the aide-de-camp hurried on to escape being frozen, +and the lips of Major de Sucy stiffened. Silence reigned, broken only +by the moans which came from the house, and the dull sound made by the +major’s horse as it chewed in a fury of hunger the icy bark of the trees +with which the house was built. Monsieur de Sucy replaced his sabre in +its scabbard, took the bridle of the precious horse he had hitherto been +able to preserve, and led it, in spite of the animal’s resistance, from +the wretched fodder it appeared to think excellent. + +“We’ll start, Bichette, we’ll start! There’s none but you, my beauty, +who can save Stephanie. Ha! by and bye you and I may be able to +rest--and die,” he added. + +Philippe, wrapped in a fur pelisse, to which he owed his preservation +and his energy, began to run, striking his feet hard upon the frozen +snow to keep them warm. Scarcely had he gone a few hundred yards from +the village than he saw a blaze in the direction of the place where, +since morning, he had left his carriage in charge of his former orderly, +an old soldier. Horrible anxiety laid hold of him. Like all others who +were controlled during this fatal retreat by some powerful sentiment, he +found a strength to save his friends which he could not have put forth +to save himself. + +Presently he reached a slight declivity at the foot of which, in a +spot sheltered from the enemy’s balls, he had stationed the carriage, +containing a young woman, the companion of his childhood, the being most +dear to him on earth. At a few steps distant from the vehicle he now +found a company of some thirty stragglers collected around an immense +fire, which they were feeding with planks, caisson covers, wheels, and +broken carriages. These soldiers were, no doubt, the last comers of that +crowd who, from the base of the hill of Studzianka to the fatal river, +formed an ocean of heads intermingled with fires and huts,--a living +sea, swayed by motions that were almost imperceptible, and giving forth +a murmuring sound that rose at times to frightful outbursts. Driven by +famine and despair, these poor wretches must have rifled the carriage +before de Sucy reached it. The old general and his young wife, whom he +had left lying in piles of clothes and wrapped in mantles and pelisses, +were now on the snow, crouching before the fire. One door of the +carriage was already torn off. + +No sooner did the men about the fire hear the tread of the major’s horse +than a hoarse cry, the cry of famine, arose,-- + +“A horse! a horse!” + +Those voices formed but one voice. + +“Back! back! look out for yourself!” cried two or three soldiers, aiming +at the mare. Philippe threw himself before his animal, crying out,-- + +“You villains! I’ll throw you into your own fire. There are plenty of +dead horses up there. Go and fetch them.” + +“Isn’t he a joker, that officer! One, two--get out of the way,” cried a +colossal grenadier. “No, you won’t, hey! Well, as you please, then.” + +A woman’s cry rose higher than the report of the musket. Philippe +fortunately was not touched, but Bichette, mortally wounded, was +struggling in the throes of death. Three men darted forward and +dispatched her with their bayonets. + +“Cannibals!” cried Philippe, “let me at any rate take the horse-cloth +and my pistols.” + +“Pistols, yes,” replied the grenadier. “But as for that horse-cloth, no! +here’s a poor fellow afoot, with nothing in his stomach for two days, +and shivering in his rags. It is our general.” + +Philippe kept silence as he looked at the man, whose boots were worn +out, his trousers torn in a dozen places, while nothing but a ragged +fatigue-cap covered with ice was on his head. He hastened, however, to +take his pistols. Five men dragged the mare to the fire, and cut her +up with the dexterity of a Parisian butcher. The pieces were instantly +seized and flung upon the embers. + +The major went up to the young woman, who had uttered a cry on +recognizing him. He found her motionless, seated on a cushion beside the +fire. She looked at him silently, without smiling. Philippe then saw +the soldier to whom he had confided the carriage; the man was wounded. +Overcome by numbers, he had been forced to yield to the malingerers who +attacked him; and, like the dog who defended to the last possible moment +his master’s dinner, he had taken his share of the booty, and was now +sitting beside the fire, wrapped in a white sheet by way of cloak, and +turning carefully on the embers a slice of the mare. Philippe saw upon +his face the joy these preparations gave him. The Comte de Vandieres, +who, for the last few days, had fallen into a state of second childhood, +was seated on a cushion beside his wife, looking fixedly at the fire, +which was beginning to thaw his torpid limbs. He had shown no emotion +of any kind, either at Philippe’s danger, or at the fight which ended in +the pillage of the carriage and their expulsion from it. + +At first de Sucy took the hand of the young countess, as if to show her +his affection, and the grief he felt at seeing her reduced to such utter +misery; then he grew silent; seated beside her on a heap of snow which +was turning into a rivulet as it melted, he yielded himself up to the +happiness of being warm, forgetting their peril, forgetting all things. +His face assumed, in spite of himself, an expression of almost stupid +joy, and he waited with impatience until the fragment of the mare given +to his orderly was cooked. The smell of the roasting flesh increased his +hunger, and his hunger silenced his heart, his courage, and his love. +He looked, without anger, at the results of the pillage of his carriage. +All the men seated around the fire had shared his blankets, cushions, +pelisses, robes, also the clothing of the Comte and Comtesse de +Vandieres and his own. Philippe looked about him to see if there was +anything left in or near the vehicle that was worth saving. By the light +of the flames he saw gold and diamonds and plate scattered everywhere, +no one having thought it worth his while to take any. + +Each of the individuals collected by chance around this fire maintained +a silence that was almost horrible, and did nothing but what he judged +necessary for his own welfare. Their misery was even grotesque. Faces, +discolored by cold, were covered with a layer of mud, on which tears had +made a furrow from the eyes to the beard, showing the thickness of that +miry mask. The filth of their long beards made these men still more +repulsive. Some were wrapped in the countess’s shawls, others wore the +trappings of horses and muddy saddlecloths, or masses of rags from which +the hoar-frost hung; some had a boot on one leg and a shoe on the other; +in fact, there were none whose costume did not present some laughable +singularity. But in presence of such amusing sights the men themselves +were grave and gloomy. The silence was broken only by the snapping of +the wood, the crackling of the flames, the distant murmur of the camps, +and the blows of the sabre given to what remained of Bichette in search +of her tenderest morsels. A few miserable creatures, perhaps more weary +than the rest, were sleeping; when one of their number rolled into the +fire no one attempted to help him out. These stern logicians argued that +if he were not dead his burns would warn him to find a safer place. If +the poor wretch waked in the flames and perished, no one cared. Two or +three soldiers looked at each other to justify their own indifference by +that of others. Twice this scene had taken place before the eyes of the +countess, who said nothing. When the various pieces of Bichette, placed +here and there upon the embers, were sufficiently broiled, each man +satisfied his hunger with the gluttony that disgusts us when we see it +in animals. + +“This is the first time I ever saw thirty infantrymen on one horse,” + cried the grenadier who had shot the mare. + +It was the only jest made that night which proved the national +character. + +Soon the great number of these poor soldiers wrapped themselves in what +they could find and lay down on planks, or whatever would keep them from +contact with the snow, and slept, heedless of the morrow. When the major +was warm, and his hunger appeased, an invincible desire to sleep weighed +down his eyelids. During the short moment of his struggle against that +desire he looked at the young woman, who had turned her face to the +fire and was now asleep, leaving her closed eyes and a portion of her +forehead exposed to sight. She was wrapped in a furred pelisse and a +heavy dragoon’s cloak; her head rested on a pillow stained with blood; +an astrakhan hood, kept in place by a handkerchief knotted round her +neck, preserved her face from the cold as much as possible. Her feet +were wrapped in the cloak. Thus rolled into a bundle, as it were, she +looked like nothing at all. Was she the last of the “vivandieres”? +Was she a charming woman, the glory of a lover, the queen of Parisian +salons? Alas! even the eye of her most devoted friend could trace no +sign of anything feminine in that mass of rags and tatters. Love had +succumbed to cold in the heart of a woman! + +Through the thick veils of irresistible sleep, the major soon saw the +husband and wife as mere points or formless objects. The flames of the +fire, those outstretched figures, the relentless cold, waiting, not +three feet distant from that fugitive heat, became all a dream. One +importunate thought terrified Philippe: + +“If I sleep, we shall all die; I will not sleep,” he said to himself. + +And yet he slept. + +A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. The sense +of his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his heart. He +uttered a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were alone afoot. +A sea of fire lay before them in the darkness of the night, licking up +the cabins and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, and imprecations +reached their ears; they saw against the flames thousands of human +beings with agonized or furious faces. In the midst of that hell, a +column of soldiers was forcing its way to the bridge, between two hedges +of dead bodies. + +“It is the retreat of the rear-guard!” cried the major. “All hope is +gone!” + +“I have saved your carriage, Philippe,” said a friendly voice. + +Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in the flaring +of the flames. + +“Ah! all is lost!” replied the major, “they have eaten my horse; and how +can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?” + +“Take a brand from the fire and threaten them.” + +“Threaten the countess!” + +“Good-bye,” said the aide-de-camp, “I have scarcely time to get across +that fatal river--and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a night! +These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will allow +themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move on. It is +four o’clock, Philippe! In two hours the Russians will begin to move. +I assure you you will again see the Beresina choked with corpses. +Philippe! think of yourself! You have no horses, you cannot carry the +countess in your arms. Come--come with me!” he said urgently, pulling de +Sucy by the arm. + +“My friend! abandon Stephanie!” + +De Sucy seized the countess, made her stand upright, shook her with the +roughness of a despairing man, and compelled her to wake up. She looked +at him with fixed, dead eyes. + +“You must walk, Stephanie, or we shall all die here.” + +For all answer the countess tried to drop again upon the snow and sleep. +The aide-de-camp seized a brand from the fire and waved it in her face. + +“We will save her in spite of herself!” cried Philippe, lifting the +countess and placing her in the carriage. + +He returned to implore the help of his friend. Together they lifted the +old general, without knowing whether he were dead or alive, and put him +beside his wife. The major then rolled over the men who were sleeping +on his blankets, which he tossed into the carriage, together with some +roasted fragments of his mare. + +“What do you mean to do?” asked the aide-de-camp. + +“Drag them.” + +“You are crazy.” + +“True,” said Philippe, crossing his arms in despair. + +Suddenly, he was seized by a last despairing thought. + +“To you,” he said, grasping the sound arm of his orderly, “I confide +her for one hour. Remember that you must die sooner than let any one +approach her.” + +The major then snatched up the countess’s diamonds, held them in one +hand, drew his sabre with the other, and began to strike with the flat +of its blade such of the sleepers as he thought the most intrepid. He +succeeded in awaking the colossal grenadier, and two other men whose +rank it was impossible to tell. + +“We are done for!” he said. + +“I know it,” said the grenadier, “but I don’t care.” + +“Well, death for death, wouldn’t you rather sell your life for a pretty +woman, and take your chances of seeing France?” + +“I’d rather sleep,” said a man, rolling over on the snow, “and if you +trouble me again, I’ll stick my bayonet into your stomach.” + +“What is the business, my colonel?” said the grenadier. “That man is +drunk; he’s a Parisian; he likes his ease.” + +“That is yours, my brave grenadier,” cried the major, offering him a +string of diamonds, “if you will follow me and fight like a madman. +The Russians are ten minutes’ march from here; they have horses; we are +going up to their first battery for a pair.” + +“But the sentinels?” + +“One of us three--” he interrupted himself, and turned to the +aide-de-camp. “You will come, Hippolyte, won’t you?” + +Hippolyte nodded. + +“One of us,” continued the major, “will take care of the sentinel. +Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed Russians.” + +“Forward! major, you’re a brave one! But you’ll give me a lift on your +carriage?” said the grenadier. + +“Yes, if you don’t leave your skin up there--If I fall, Hippolyte, and +you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the countess.” + +“Agreed!” cried the grenadier. + +They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which +had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river. +A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow, and +the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above the +heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet that +their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his anvil. The +generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier was safe and +sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a bayonet in his +shoulder; but he clung to his horse’s mane, and clasped him so tightly +with his knees that the animal was held as in a vice. + +“God be praised!” cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and +the carriage in its place. + +“If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this,” said +the man. “We’ve played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can tell +you.” + +“We have done nothing yet--Harness the horses. Take these ropes.” + +“They are not long enough.” + +“Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen, +to eke out.” + +“Tiens! that’s one dead,” said the grenadier, stripping the first man he +came to. “Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!” + +“All?” + +“Yes, all; seems as if horse-meat must be indigestible if eaten with +snow.” + +The words made Philippe tremble. The cold was increasing. + +“My God! to lose the woman I have saved a dozen times!” + +The major shook the countess. + +“Stephanie! Stephanie!” + +The young woman opened her eyes. + +“Madame! we are saved.” + +“Saved!” she repeated, sinking down again. + +The horses were harnessed as best they could. The major, holding his +sabre in his well hand, with his pistols in his belt, gathered up the +reins with the other hand and mounted one horse while the grenadier +mounted the other. The orderly, whose feet were frozen, was thrown +inside the carriage, across the general and the countess. Excited by +pricks from a sabre, the horses drew the carriage rapidly, with a sort +of fury, to the plain, where innumerable obstacles awaited it. It was +impossible to force a way without danger of crushing the sleeping men, +women, and even children, who refused to move when the grenadier awoke +them. In vain did Monsieur de Sucy endeavor to find the swathe cut +by the rear-guard through the mass of human beings; it was already +obliterated, like the wake of a vessel through the sea. They could only +creep along, being often stopped by soldiers who threatened to kill +their horses. + +“Do you want to reach the bridge?” said the grenadier. + +“At the cost of my life--at the cost of the whole world!” + +“Then forward, march! you can’t make omelets without breaking eggs.” + +And the grenadier of the guard urged the horses over men and bivouacs +with bloody wheels and a double line of corpses on either side of them. +We must do him the justice to say that he never spared his breath in +shouting in stentorian tones,-- + +“Look out there, carrion!” + +“Poor wretches!” cried the major. + +“Pooh! that or the cold, that or the cannon,” said the grenadier, +prodding the horses, and urging them on. + +A catastrophe, which might well have happened to them much sooner, put a +stop to their advance. The carriage was overturned. + +“I expected it,” cried the imperturbable grenadier. “Ho! ho! your man is +dead.” + +“Poor Laurent!” said the major. + +“Laurent? Was he in the 5th chasseurs?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then he was my cousin. Oh, well, this dog’s life isn’t happy enough to +waste any joy in grieving for him.” + +The carriage could not be raised; the horses were taken out with serious +and, as it proved, irreparable loss of time. The shock of the overturn +was so violent that the young countess, roused from her lethargy, threw +off her coverings and rose. + +“Philippe, where are we?” she cried in a gentle voice, looking about +her. + +“Only five hundred feet from the bridge. We are now going to cross the +Beresina, Stephanie, and once across I will not torment you any more; +you shall sleep; we shall be in safety, and can reach Wilna easily.--God +grant that she may never know what her life has cost!” he thought. + +“Philippe! you are wounded!” + +“That is nothing.” + +Too late! the fatal hour had come. The Russian cannon sounded the +reveille. Masters of Studzianka, they could sweep the plain, and by +daylight the major could see two of their columns moving and forming +on the heights. A cry of alarm arose from the multitude, who started +to their feet in an instant. Every man now understood his danger +instinctively, and the whole mass rushed to gain the bridge with the +motion of a wave. + +The Russians came down with the rapidity of a conflagration. Men, women, +children, horses,--all rushed tumultuously to the bridge. Fortunately +the major, who was carrying the countess, was still some distance from +it. General Eble had just set fire to the supports on the other bank. In +spite of the warnings shouted to those who were rushing upon the bridge, +not a soul went back. Not only did the bridge go down crowded with human +beings, but the impetuosity of that flood of men toward the fatal bank +was so furious that a mass of humanity poured itself violently into the +river like an avalanche. Not a cry was heard; the only sound was like +the dropping of monstrous stones into the water. Then the Beresina was a +mass of floating corpses. + +The retrograde movement of those who now fell back into the plain +to escape the death before them was so violent, and their concussion +against those who were advancing from the rear so terrible, that numbers +were smothered or trampled to death. The Comte and Comtesse de Vandieres +owed their lives to their carriage, behind which Philippe forced them, +using it as a breastwork. As for the major and the grenadier, they found +their safety in their strength. They killed to escape being killed. + +This hurricane of human beings, the flux and reflux of living bodies, +had the effect of leaving for a few short moments the whole bank of the +Beresina deserted. The multitude were surging to the plain. If a few men +rushed to the river, it was less in the hope of reaching the other bank, +which to them was France, than to rush from the horrors of Siberia. +Despair proved an aegis to some bold hearts. One officer sprang +from ice-cake to ice-cake, and reached the opposite shore. A soldier +clambered miraculously over mounds of dead bodies and heaps of ice. The +multitude finally comprehended that the Russians would not put to death +a body of twenty thousand men, without arms, torpid, stupid, unable +to defend themselves; and each man awaited his fate with horrible +resignation. Then the major and the grenadier, the general and his wife, +remained almost alone on the river bank, a few steps from the spot where +the bridge had been. They stood there, with dry eyes, silent, surrounded +by heaps of dead. A few sound soldiers, a few officers to whom the +emergency had restored their natural energy, were near them. This group +consisted of some fifty men in all. The major noticed at a distance +of some two hundred yards the remains of another bridge intended for +carriages and destroyed the day before. + +“Let us make a raft!” he cried. + +He had hardly uttered the words before the whole group rushed to the +ruins, and began to pick up iron bolts, and screws, and pieces of wood +and ropes, whatever materials they could find that were suitable for +the construction of a raft. A score of soldiers and officers, who were +armed, formed a guard, commanded by the major, to protect the workers +against the desperate attacks which might be expected from the crowd, +if their scheme was discovered. The instinct of freedom, strong in all +prisoners, inspiring them to miraculous acts, can only be compared with +that which now drove to action these unfortunate Frenchmen. + +“The Russians! the Russians are coming!” cried the defenders to the +workers; and the work went on, the raft increased in length and breadth +and depth. Generals, soldiers, colonel, all put their shoulders to the +wheel; it was a true image of the building of Noah’s ark. The young +countess, seated beside her husband, watched the progress of the work +with regret that she could not help it; and yet she did assist in making +knots to secure the cordage. + +At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it on the river, a +dozen others holding the cords which moored it to the shore. But no +sooner had the builders seen their handiwork afloat, than they sprang +from the bank with odious selfishness. The major, fearing the fury of +this first rush, held back the countess and the general, but too late +he saw the whole raft covered, men pressing together like crowds at a +theatre. + +“Savages!” he cried, “it was I who gave you the idea of that raft. I +have saved you, and you deny me a place.” + +A confused murmur answered him. The men at the edge of the raft, armed +with long sticks, pressed with violence against the shore to send off +the frail construction with sufficient impetus to force its way through +corpses and ice-floes to the other shore. + +“Thunder of heaven! I’ll sweep you into the water if you don’t take the +major and his two companions,” cried the stalwart grenadier, who swung +his sabre, stopped the departure, and forced the men to stand closer in +spite of furious outcries. + +“I shall fall,”--“I am falling,”--“Push off! push off!--Forward!” + resounded on all sides. + +The major looked with haggard eyes at Stephanie, who lifted hers to +heaven with a feeling of sublime resignation. + +“To die with thee!” she said. + +There was something even comical in the position of the men in +possession of the raft. Though they were uttering awful groans and +imprecations, they dared not resist the grenadier, for in truth they +were so closely packed together, that a push to one man might send half +of them overboard. This danger was so pressing that a cavalry captain +endeavored to get rid of the grenadier; but the latter, seeing the +hostile movement of the officer, seized him round the waist and flung +him into the water, crying out,-- + +“Ha! ha! my duck, do you want to drink? Well, then, drink!--Here are +two places,” he cried. “Come, major, toss me the little woman and follow +yourself. Leave that old fossil, who’ll be dead by to-morrow.” + +“Make haste!” cried the voice of all, as one man. + +“Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do so.” + +The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed himself in his +general’s uniform. + +“Let us save the count,” said Philippe. + +Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his breast, she +clasped him tightly. + +“Adieu!” she said. + +They had understood each other. + +The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and presence of +mind to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, after +turning a last look to Philippe. + +“Major! will you take my place? I don’t care a fig for life,” cried the +grenadier. “I’ve neither wife nor child nor mother.” + +“I confide them to your care,” said the major, pointing to the count and +his wife. + +“Then be easy; I’ll care for them, as though they were my very eyes.” + +The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the opposite side +of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt by all. The +count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and fell into the +river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and cut off his head, +flinging it to a great distance. + +“See there! major!” cried the grenadier. + +“Adieu!” said a woman’s voice. + +Philippe de Sucy fell to the ground, overcome with horror and fatigue. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE CURE + + +“My poor niece became insane,” continued the physician, after a few +moment’s silence. “Ah! monsieur,” he said, seizing the marquis’s hand, +“life has been awful indeed for that poor little woman, so young, +so delicate! After being, by dreadful fatality, separated from the +grenadier, whose name was Fleuriot, she was dragged about for two years +at the heels of the army, the plaything of a crowd of wretches. She +was often, they tell me, barefooted, and scarcely clothed; for months +together, she had no care, no food but what she could pick up; sometimes +kept in hospitals, sometimes driven away like an animal, God alone knows +the horrors that poor unfortunate creature has survived. She was +locked up in a madhouse, in a little town in Germany, at the time +her relatives, thinking her dead, divided her property. In 1816, the +grenadier Fleuriot was at an inn in Strasburg, where she went after +making her escape from the madhouse. Several peasants told the grenadier +that she had lived for a whole month in the forest, where they had +tracked her in vain, trying to catch her, but she had always escaped +them. I was then staying a few miles from Strasburg. Hearing much talk +of a wild woman caught in the woods, I felt a desire to ascertain the +truth of the ridiculous stories which were current about her. What were +my feelings on beholding my own niece! Fleuriot told me all he knew of +her dreadful history. I took the poor man with my niece back to my home +in Auvergne, where, unfortunately, I lost him some months later. He had +some slight control over Madame de Vandieres; he alone could induce her +to wear clothing. ‘Adieu,’ that word, which is her only language, she +seldom uttered at that time. Fleuriot had endeavored to awaken in her a +few ideas, a few memories of the past; but he failed; all that he gained +was to make her say that melancholy word a little oftener. Still, the +grenadier knew how to amuse her and play with her; my hope was in him, +but--” + +He was silent for a moment. + +“Here,” he continued, “she has found another creature, with whom +she seems to have some strange understanding. It is a poor idiotic +peasant-girl, who, in spite of her ugliness and stupidity, loved a man, +a mason. The mason was willing to marry her, as she had some property. +Poor Genevieve was happy for a year; she dressed in her best to dance +with her lover on Sunday; she comprehended love; in her heart and soul +there was room for that one sentiment. But the mason, Dallot, reflected. +He found a girl with all her senses, and more land than Genevieve, +and he deserted the poor creature. Since then she has lost the little +intellect that love developed in her; she can do nothing but watch the +cows, or help at harvesting. My niece and this poor girl are friends, +apparently by some invisible chain of their common destiny, by +the sentiment in each which has caused their madness. See!” added +Stephanie’s uncle, leading the marquis to a window. + +The latter then saw the countess seated on the ground between +Genevieve’s legs. The peasant-girl, armed with a huge horn comb, was +giving her whole attention to the work of disentangling the long black +hair of the poor countess, who was uttering little stifled cries, +expressive of some instinctive sense of pleasure. Monsieur d’Albon +shuddered as he saw the utter abandonment of the body, the careless +animal ease which revealed in the hapless woman a total absence of soul. + +“Philippe, Philippe!” he muttered, “the past horrors are nothing!--Is +there no hope?” he asked. + +The old physician raised his eyes to heaven. + +“Adieu, monsieur,” said the marquis, pressing his hand. “My friend is +expecting me. He will soon come to you.” + +“Then it was really she!” cried de Sucy at d’Albon’s first words. “Ah! +I still doubted it,” he added, a few tears falling from his eyes, which +were habitually stern. + +“Yes, it is the Comtesse de Vandieres,” replied the marquis. + +The colonel rose abruptly from his bed and began to dress. + +“Philippe!” cried his friend, “are you mad?” + +“I am no longer ill,” replied the colonel, simply. “This news has +quieted my suffering. What pain can I feel when I think of Stephanie? I +am going to the Bons-Hommes, to see her, speak to her, cure her. She is +free. Well, happiness will smile upon us--or Providence is not in +this world. Think you that that poor woman could hear my voice and not +recover reason?” + +“She has already seen you and not recognized you,” said his friend, +gently, for he felt the danger of Philippe’s excited hopes, and tried to +cast a salutary doubt upon them. + +The colonel quivered; then he smiled, and made a motion of incredulity. +No one dared to oppose his wish, and within a very short time he reached +the old priory. + +“Where is she?” he cried, on arriving. + +“Hush!” said her uncle, “she is sleeping. See, here she is.” + +Philippe then saw the poor insane creature lying on a bench in the sun. +Her head was protected from the heat by a forest of hair which fell in +tangled locks over her face. Her arms hung gracefully to the ground; her +body lay easily posed like that of a doe; her feet were folded under her +without effort; her bosom rose and fell at regular intervals; her skin, +her complexion, had that porcelain whiteness, which we admire so much in +the clear transparent faces of children. Standing motionless beside +her, Genevieve held in her hand a branch which Stephanie had doubtless +climbed a tall poplar to obtain, and the poor idiot was gently waving +it above her sleeping companion, to chase away the flies and cool the +atmosphere. + +The peasant-woman gazed at Monsieur Fanjat and the colonel; then, like +an animal which recognizes its master, she turned her head slowly to +the countess, and continued to watch her, without giving any sign +of surprise or intelligence. The air was stifling; the stone bench +glittered in the sunlight; the meadow exhaled to heaven those impish +vapors which dance and dart above the herbage like silvery dust; but +Genevieve seemed not to feel this all-consuming heat. + +The colonel pressed the hand of the doctor violently in his own. Tears +rolled from his eyes along his manly cheeks, and fell to the earth at +the feet of his Stephanie. + +“Monsieur,” said the uncle, “for two years past, my heart is broken day +by day. Soon you will be like me. You may not always weep, but you will +always feel your sorrow.” + +The two men understood each other; and again, pressing each other’s +hands, they remained motionless, contemplating the exquisite calmness +which sleep had cast upon that graceful creature. From time to time +she gave a sigh, and that sigh, which had all the semblance of +sensibilities, made the unhappy colonel tremble with hope. + +“Alas!” said Monsieur Fanjat, “do not deceive yourself, monsieur; there +is no meaning in her sigh.” + +Those who have ever watched for hours with delight the sleep of one +who is tenderly beloved, whose eyes will smile to them at waking, can +understand the sweet yet terrible emotion that shook the colonel’s soul. +To him, this sleep was an illusion; the waking might be death, death in +its most awful form. Suddenly, a little goat jumped in three bounds to +the bench, and smelt at Stephanie, who waked at the sound. She sprang to +her feet, but so lightly that the movement did not frighten the freakish +animal; then she caught sight of Philippe, and darted away, followed by +her four-footed friend, to a hedge of elders; there she uttered the same +little cry like a frightened bird, which the two men had heard near the +other gate. Then she climbed an acacia, and nestling into its tufted +top, she watched the stranger with the inquisitive attention of the +forest birds. + +“Adieu, adieu, adieu,” she said, without the soul communicating one +single intelligent inflexion to the word. + +It was uttered impassively, as the bird sings his note. + +“She does not recognize me!” cried the colonel, in despair. “Stephanie! +it is Philippe, thy Philippe, PHILIPPE!” + +And the poor soldier went to the acacia; but when he was a few steps +from it, the countess looked at him, as if defying him, although a +slight expression of fear seemed to flicker in her eye; then, with a +single bound she sprang from the acacia to a laburnum, and thence to a +Norway fir, where she darted from branch to branch with extraordinary +agility. + +“Do not pursue her,” said Monsieur Fanjat to the colonel, “or you will +arouse an aversion which might become insurmountable. I will help you to +tame her and make her come to you. Let us sit on this bench. If you pay +no attention to her, she will come of her own accord to examine you.” + +“SHE! not to know me! to flee me!” repeated the colonel, seating himself +on a bench with his back to a tree that shaded it, and letting his head +fall upon his breast. + +The doctor said nothing. Presently, the countess came gently down the +fir-tree, letting herself swing easily on the branches, as the wind +swayed them. At each branch she stopped to examine the stranger; but +seeing him motionless, she at last sprang to the ground and came slowly +towards him across the grass. When she reached a tree about ten feet +distant, against which she leaned, Monsieur Fanjat said to the colonel +in a low voice,-- + +“Take out, adroitly, from my right hand pocket some lumps of sugar +you will feel there. Show them to her, and she will come to us. I will +renounce in your favor my sole means of giving her pleasure. With sugar, +which she passionately loves, you will accustom her to approach you, and +to know you again.” + +“When she was a woman,” said Philippe, sadly, “she had no taste for +sweet things.” + +When the colonel showed her the lump of sugar, holding it between the +thumb and forefinger of his right hand, she again uttered her little +wild cry, and sprang toward him; then she stopped, struggling against +the instinctive fear he caused her; she looked at the sugar and turned +away her head alternately, precisely like a dog whose master forbids him +to touch his food until he has said a letter of the alphabet which he +slowly repeats. At last the animal desire triumphed over fear. Stephanie +darted to Philippe, cautiously putting out her little brown hand to +seize the prize, touched the fingers of her poor lover as she snatched +the sugar, and fled away among the trees. This dreadful scene overcame +the colonel; he burst into tears and rushed into the house. + +“Has love less courage than friendship?” Monsieur Fanjat said to him. +“I have some hope, Monsieur le baron. My poor niece was in a far worse +state than that in which you now find her.” + +“How was that possible?” cried Philippe. + +“She went naked,” replied the doctor. + +The colonel made a gesture of horror and turned pale. The doctor saw in +that sudden pallor alarming symptoms; he felt the colonel’s pulse, found +him in a violent fever, and half persuaded, half compelled him to go to +bed. Then he gave him a dose of opium to ensure a calm sleep. + +Eight days elapsed, during which Colonel de Sucy struggled against +mortal agony; tears no longer came to his eyes. His soul, often +lacerated, could not harden itself to the sight of Stephanie’s insanity; +but he covenanted, so to speak, with his cruel situation, and found some +assuaging of his sorrow. He had the courage to slowly tame the countess +by bringing her sweetmeats; he took such pains in choosing them, and he +learned so well how to keep the little conquests he sought to make upon +her instincts--that last shred of her intellect--that he ended by making +her much TAMER than she had ever been. + +Every morning he went into the park, and if, after searching for her +long, he could not discover on what tree she was swaying, nor the covert +in which she crouched to play with a bird, nor the roof on which she +might have clambered, he would whistle the well-known air of “Partant +pour la Syrie,” to which some tender memory of their love attached. +Instantly, Stephanie would run to him with the lightness of a fawn. She +was now so accustomed to see him, that he frightened her no longer. Soon +she was willing to sit upon his knee, and clasp him closely with her +thin and agile arm. In that attitude--so dear to lovers!--Philippe would +feed her with sugarplums. Then, having eaten those that he gave her, she +would often search his pockets with gestures that had all the mechanical +velocity of a monkey’s motions. When she was very sure there was nothing +more, she looked at Philippe with clear eyes, without ideas, with +recognition. Then she would play with him, trying at times to take off +his boots to see his feet, tearing his gloves, putting on his hat; she +would even let him pass his hands through her hair, and take her in his +arms; she accepted, but without pleasure, his ardent kisses. She would +look at him silently, without emotion, when his tears flowed; but she +always understood his “Partant pour la Syrie,” when he whistled it, +though he never succeeded in teaching her to say her own name Stephanie. + +Philippe was sustained in his agonizing enterprise by hope, which never +abandoned him. When, on fine autumn mornings, he found the countess +sitting peacefully on a bench, beneath a poplar now yellowing, the poor +lover would sit at her feet, looking into her eyes as long as she +would let him, hoping ever that the light that was in them would become +intelligent. Sometimes the thought deluded him that he saw those hard +immovable rays softening, vibrating, living, and he cried out,-- + +“Stephanie! Stephanie! thou hearest me, thou seest me!” + +But she listened to that cry as to a noise, the soughing of the wind +in the tree-tops, or the lowing of the cow on the back of which she +climbed. Then the colonel would wring his hands in despair,--despair +that was new each day. + +One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of that rural +haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel was loading his +pistols. The old man felt then that the young man had ceased to hope; +he felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if he conquered the vertigo +that threatened him, it was because he would rather see his niece living +and mad than dead. He hastened up. + +“What are you doing?” he said. + +“That is for me,” replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol already +loaded, which was lying on the bench; “and this is for her,” he added, +as he forced the wad into the weapon he held. + +The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with the balls. + +“Then you do not know,” said the doctor, coldly, concealing his terror, +“that in her sleep last night she called you: Philippe!” + +“She called me!” cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which Stephanie +picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that was on +the bench, and rushed away. + +“Poor darling!” said the doctor, happy in the success of his lie. He +pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking to +himself: “He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he suffers. He +does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do we not? He +is mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. No, God alone +should call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we pity thee because +thou canst not share our sorrows, fools that we are!--But,” he said, +sitting down and taking her on his knee, “nothing troubles thee; thy +life is like that of a bird, of a fawn--” + +As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was hopping near +them, caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled it, looked +at it, dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of a tree without +a thought. + +The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down into the +gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,--he believed in the coming +happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to him, he +took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first time, and +he led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of which +was dropping to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own accord +Stephanie placed herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with joy. + +“Love,” he said, kissing her hands passionately, “I am Philippe.” + +She looked at him with curiosity. + +“Come,” he said, pressing her to him, “dost thou feel my heart? It has +beaten for thee alone. I love thee ever. Philippe is not dead; he is +not dead, thou art on him, in his arms. Thou art MY Stephanie; I am thy +Philippe.” + +“Adieu,” she said, “adieu.” + +The colonel quivered, for he fancied he saw his own excitement +communicated to his mistress. His heart-rending cry, drawn from him by +despair, that last effort of an eternal love, of a delirious passion, +was successful, the mind of his darling was awaking. + +“Ah! Stephanie! Stephanie! we shall yet be happy.” + +She gave a cry of satisfaction, and her eyes brightened with a flash of +vague intelligence. + +“She knows me!--Stephanie!” + +His heart swelled; his eyelids were wet with tears. Then, suddenly, the +countess showed him a bit of sugar she had found in his pocket while +he was speaking to her. He had mistaken for human thought the amount +of reason required for a monkey’s trick. Philippe dropped to the ground +unconscious. Monsieur Fanjat found the countess sitting on the colonel’s +body. She was biting her sugar, and testifying her pleasure by pretty +gestures and affectations with which, had she her reason, she might have +imitated her parrot or her cat. + +“Ah! my friend,” said Philippe, when he came to his senses, “I die every +day, every moment! I love too well! I could still bear all, if, in +her madness, she had kept her woman’s nature. But to see her always a +savage, devoid even of modesty, to see her--” + +“You want opera madness, do you? something picturesque and pleasing,” + said the doctor, bitterly. “Your love and your devotion yield before +a prejudice. Monsieur, I have deprived myself for your sake of the sad +happiness of watching over my niece; I have left to you the pleasure of +playing with her; I have kept for myself the heaviest cares. While you +have slept, I have watched, I have--Go, monsieur, go! abandon her! leave +this sad refuge. I know how to live with that dear darling creature; I +comprehend her madness, I watch her gestures, I know her secrets. Some +day you will thank me for thus sending you away.” + +The colonel left the old monastery, never to return but once. The doctor +was horrified when he saw the effect he had produced upon his guest, +whom he now began to love when he saw him thus. Surely, if either of the +two lovers were worthy of pity, it was Philippe; did he not bear alone +the burden of their dreadful sorrow? + +After the colonel’s departure the doctor kept himself informed about +him; he learned that the miserable man was living on an estate near +Saint-Germain. In truth, the baron, on the faith of a dream, had formed +a project which he believed would yet restore the mind of his darling. +Unknown to the doctor, he spent the rest of the autumn in preparing for +his enterprise. A little river flowed through his park and inundated +during the winter the marshes on either side of it, giving it some +resemblance to the Beresina. The village of Satout, on the heights +above, closed in, like Studzianka, the scene of horror. The colonel +collected workmen to deepen the banks, and by the help of his memory, he +copied in his park the shore where General Eble destroyed the bridge. +He planted piles, and made buttresses and burned them, leaving their +charred and blackened ruins, standing in the water from shore to shore. +Then he gathered fragments of all kinds, like those of which the raft +was built. He ordered dilapidated uniforms and clothing of every grade, +and hired hundreds of peasants to wear them; he erected huts and cabins +for the purpose of burning them. In short, he forgot nothing that might +recall that most awful of all scenes, and he succeeded. + +Toward the last of December, when the snow had covered with its thick, +white mantle all his imitative preparations, he recognized the Beresina. +This false Russia was so terribly truthful, that several of his army +comrades recognized the scene of their past misery at once. Monsieur +de Sucy took care to keep secret the motive for this tragic imitation, +which was talked of in several Parisian circles as a proof of insanity. + +Early in January, 1820, the colonel drove in a carriage, the very +counterpart of the one in which he had driven the Comte and Comtesse de +Vandieres from Moscow to Studzianka. The horses, too, were like those he +had gone, at the peril of his life, to fetch from the Russian outposts. +He himself wore the soiled fantastic clothing, the same weapons, as on +the 29th of November, 1812. He had let his beard grow, also his hair, +which was tangled and matted, and his face was neglected, so that +nothing might be wanting to represent the awful truth. + +“I can guess your purpose,” cried Monsieur Fanjat, when he saw the +colonel getting out of the carriage. “If you want to succeed, do not +let my niece see you in that equipage. To-night I will give her opium. +During her sleep, we will dress her as she was at Studzianka, and place +her in the carriage. I will follow you in another vehicle.” + +About two in the morning, the sleeping countess was placed in the +carriage and wrapped in heavy coverings. A few peasants with torches +lighted up this strange abduction. Suddenly, a piercing cry broke the +silence of the night. Philippe and the doctor turned, and saw Genevieve +coming half-naked from the ground-floor room in which she slept. + +“Adieu, adieu! all is over, adieu!” she cried, weeping hot tears. + +“Genevieve, what troubles you?” asked the doctor. + +Genevieve shook her head with a motion of despair, raised her arm to +heaven, looked at the carriage, uttering a long-drawn moan with every +sign of the utmost terror; then she returned to her room silently. + +“That is a good omen!” cried the colonel. “She feels she is to lose her +companion. Perhaps she SEES that Stephanie will recover her reason.” + +“God grant it!” said Monsieur Fanjat, who himself was affected by the +incident. + +Ever since he had made a close study of insanity, the good man had +met with many examples of the prophetic faculty and the gift of second +sight, proofs of which are frequently given by alienated minds, and +which may also be found, so travellers say, among certain tribes of +savages. + +As the colonel had calculated, Stephanie crossed the fictitious plain of +the Beresina at nine o’clock in the morning, when she was awakened by a +cannon shot not a hundred yards from the spot where the experiment was +to be tried. This was a signal. Hundreds of peasants made a frightful +clamor like that on the shore of the river that memorable night, when +twenty thousand stragglers were doomed to death or slavery by their own +folly. + +At the cry, at the shot, the countess sprang from the carriage, and ran, +with delirious emotion, over the snow to the banks of the river; she saw +the burned bivouacs and the charred remains of the bridge, and the fatal +raft, which the men were launching into the icy waters of the Beresina. +The major, Philippe, was there, striking back the crowd with his sabre. +Madame de Vandieres gave a cry, which went to all hearts, and threw +herself before the colonel, whose heart beat wildly. She seemed to +gather herself together, and, at first, looked vaguely at the singular +scene. For an instant, as rapid as the lightning’s flash, her eyes had +that lucidity, devoid of mind, which we admire in the eye of birds; then +passing her hand across her brow with the keen expression of one who +meditates, she contemplated the living memory of a past scene spread +before her, and, turning quickly to Philippe, she SAW HIM. An awful +silence reigned in the crowd. The colonel gasped, but dared not speak; +the doctor wept. Stephanie’s sweet face colored faintly; then, from tint +to tint, it returned to the brightness of youth, till it glowed with +a beautiful crimson. Life and happiness, lighted by intelligence, came +nearer and nearer like a conflagration. Convulsive trembling rose from +her feet to her heart. Then these phenomena seemed to blend in one as +Stephanie’s eyes cast forth a celestial ray, the flame of a living +soul. She lived, she thought! She shuddered, with fear perhaps, for God +himself unloosed that silent tongue, and cast anew His fires into that +long-extinguished soul. Human will came with its full electric torrent, +and vivified the body from which it had been driven. + +“Stephanie!” cried the colonel. + +“Oh! it is Philippe,” said the poor countess. + +She threw herself into the trembling arms that the colonel held out to +her, and the clasp of the lovers frightened the spectators. Stephanie +burst into tears. Suddenly her tears stopped, she stiffened as though +the lightning had touched her, and said in a feeble voice,-- + +“Adieu, Philippe; I love thee, adieu!” + +“Oh! she is dead,” cried the colonel, opening his arms. + +The old doctor received the inanimate body of his niece, kissed it as +though he were a young man, and carrying it aside, sat down with it +still in his arms on a pile of wood. He looked at the countess and +placed his feeble trembling hand upon her heart. That heart no longer +beat. + +“It is true,” he said, looking up at the colonel, who stood motionless, +and then at Stephanie, on whom death was placing that resplendent +beauty, that fugitive halo, which is, perhaps, a pledge of the glorious +future--“Yes, she is dead.” + +“Ah! that smile,” cried Philippe, “do you see that smile? Can it be +true?” + +“She is turning cold,” replied Monsieur Fanjat. + +Monsieur de Sucy made a few steps to tear himself away from the sight; +but he stopped, whistled the air that Stephanie had known, and when she +did not come to him, went on with staggering steps like a drunken man, +still whistling, but never turning back. + +General Philippe de Sucy was thought in the social world to be a very +agreeable man, and above all a very gay one. A few days ago, a lady +complimented him on his good humor, and the charming equability of his +nature. + +“Ah! madame,” he said, “I pay dear for my liveliness in my lonely +evenings.” + +“Are you ever alone?” she said. + +“No,” he replied smiling. + +If a judicious observer of human nature could have seen at that moment +the expression on the Comte de Sucy’s face, he would perhaps have +shuddered. + +“Why don’t you marry?” said the lady, who had several daughters at +school. “You are rich, titled, and of ancient lineage; you have talents, +and a great future before you; all things smile upon you.” + +“Yes,” he said, “but a smile kills me.” + +The next day the lady heard with great astonishment that Monsieur de +Sucy had blown his brains out during the night. The upper ranks of +society talked in various ways over this extraordinary event, and each +person looked for the cause of it. According to the proclivities of each +reasoner, play, love, ambition, hidden disorders, and vices, explained +the catastrophe, the last scene of a drama begun in 1812. Two men alone, +a marquis and former deputy, and an aged physician, knew that Philippe +de Sucy was one of those strong men to whom God has given the unhappy +power of issuing daily in triumph from awful combats which they fight +with an unseen monster. If, for a moment, God withdraws from such men +His all-powerful hand, they succumb. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personage appears in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Note: Adieu is also entitled Farewell. + + Granville, Vicomte de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Second Home + Farewell (Adieu) + Cesar Birotteau + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + A Daughter of Eve + Cousin Pons + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + +***** This file should be named 1554-0.txt or 1554-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/5/1554/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Adieu + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: February 26, 2010 [EBook #1554] +Last Updated: November 21, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + ADIEU + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + DEDICATION<br /><br /> To Prince Frederic Schwartzenburg<br /> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ADIEU </a> + </h3> + <h3> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN OLD MONASTERY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE CURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + ADIEU + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. AN OLD MONASTERY + </h2> + <p> + “Come, deputy of the Centre, forward! Quick step! march! if we want to be + in time to dine with the others. Jump, marquis! there, that’s right! why, + you can skip across a stubble-field like a deer!” + </p> + <p> + These words were said by a huntsman peacefully seated at the edge of the + forest of Ile-Adam, who was finishing an Havana cigar while waiting for + his companion, who had lost his way in the tangled underbrush of the wood. + At his side four panting dogs were watching, as he did, the personage he + addressed. To understand how sarcastic were these exhortations, repeated + at intervals, we should state that the approaching huntsman was a stout + little man whose protuberant stomach was the evidence of a truly + ministerial “embonpoint.” He was struggling painfully across the furrows + of a vast wheat-field recently harvested, the stubble of which + considerably impeded him; while to add to his other miseries the sun’s + rays, striking obliquely on his face, collected an abundance of drops of + perspiration. Absorbed in the effort to maintain his equilibrium, he + leaned, now forward, now back, in close imitation of the pitching of a + carriage when violently jolted. The weather looked threatening. Though + several spaces of blue sky still parted the thick black clouds toward the + horizon, a flock of fleecy vapors were advancing with great rapidity and + drawing a light gray curtain from east to west. As the wind was acting + only on the upper region of the air, the atmosphere below it pressed down + the hot vapors of the earth. Surrounded by masses of tall trees, the + valley through which the hunter struggled felt like a furnace. Parched and + silent, the forest seemed thirsty. The birds, even the insects, were + voiceless; the tree-tops scarcely waved. Those persons who may still + remember the summer of 1819 can imagine the woes of the poor deputy, who + was struggling along, drenched in sweat, to regain his mocking friend. The + latter, while smoking his cigar, had calculated from the position of the + sun that it must be about five in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Where the devil are we?” said the stout huntsman, mopping his forehead + and leaning against the trunk of a tree nearly opposite to his companion, + for he felt unequal to the effort of leaping the ditch between them. + </p> + <p> + “That’s for me to ask you,” said the other, laughing, as he lay among the + tall brown brake which crowned the bank. Then, throwing the end of his + cigar into the ditch, he cried out vehemently: “I swear by Saint Hubert + that never again will I trust myself in unknown territory with a + statesman, though he be, like you, my dear d’Albon, a college mate.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Philippe, have you forgotten your French? Or have you left your wits + in Siberia?” replied the stout man, casting a sorrowfully comic look at a + sign-post about a hundred feet away. + </p> + <p> + “True, true,” cried Philippe, seizing his gun and springing with a bound + into the field and thence to the post. “This way, d’Albon, this way,” he + called back to his friend, pointing to a broad paved path and reading + aloud the sign: “‘From Baillet to Ile-Adam.’ We shall certainly find the + path to Cassan, which must branch from this one between here and + Ile-Adam.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, colonel,” said Monsieur d’Albon, replacing upon his head + the cap with which he had been fanning himself. + </p> + <p> + “Forward then, my respectable privy councillor,” replied Colonel Philippe, + whistling to the dogs, who seemed more willing to obey him than the public + functionary to whom they belonged. + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware, marquis,” said the jeering soldier, “that we still have + six miles to go? That village over there must be Baillet.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” cried the marquis, “go to Cassan if you must, but you’ll + go alone. I prefer to stay here, in spite of the coming storm, and wait + for the horse you can send me from the chateau. You’ve played me a trick, + Sucy. We were to have had a nice little hunt not far from Cassan, and + beaten the coverts I know. Instead of that, you have kept me running like + a hare since four o’clock this morning, and all I’ve had for breakfast is + a cup of milk. Now, if you ever have a petition before the Court, I’ll + make you lose it, however just your claim.” + </p> + <p> + The poor discouraged huntsman sat down on a stone that supported the + signpost, relieved himself of his gun and his gamebag, and heaved a long + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “France! such are thy deputies!” exclaimed Colonel de Sucy, laughing. “Ah! + my poor d’Albon, if you had been like me six years in the wilds of Siberia—” + </p> + <p> + He said no more, but he raised his eyes to heaven as if that anguish were + between himself and God. + </p> + <p> + “Come, march on!” he added. “If you sit still you are lost.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I, Philippe? It is an old magisterial habit to sit still. On my + honor! I’m tired out—If I had only killed a hare!” + </p> + <p> + The two men presented a rather rare contrast: the public functionary was + forty-two years of age and seemed no more than thirty, whereas the soldier + was thirty, and seemed forty at the least. Both wore the red rosette of + the officers of the Legion of honor. A few spare locks of black hair mixed + with white, like the wing of a magpie, escaped from the colonel’s cap, + while handsome brown curls adorned the brow of the statesman. One was + tall, gallant, high-strung, and the lines of his pallid face showed + terrible passions or frightful griefs. The other had a face that was + brilliant with health, and jovially worth of an epicurean. Both were + deeply sun-burned, and their high gaiters of tanned leather showed signs + of the bogs and the thickets they had just come through. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Monsieur de Sucy, “let us get on. A short hour’s march, and + we shall reach Cassan in time for a good dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to see you have never loved,” replied the councillor, with a + look that was pitifully comic; “you are as relentless as article 304 of + the penal code.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe de Sucy quivered; his broad brow contracted; his face became as + sombre as the skies above them. Some memory of awful bitterness distorted + for a moment his features, but he said nothing. Like all strong men, he + drove down his emotions to the depths of his heart; thinking perhaps, as + simple characters are apt to think, that there was something immodest in + unveiling griefs when human language cannot render their depths and may + only rouse the mockery of those who do not comprehend them. Monsieur + d’Albon had one of those delicate natures which divine sorrows, and are + instantly sympathetic to the emotion they have involuntarily aroused. He + respected his friend’s silence, rose, forgot his fatigue, and followed him + silently, grieved to have touched a wound that was evidently not healed. + </p> + <p> + “Some day, my friend,” said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking him + for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, “I will relate to you my + life. To-day I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + They continued their way in silence. When the colonel’s pain seemed + soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or rather + the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of the forest; + he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching paths, hoping to + discover some dwelling where he could ask hospitality. Arriving at a + cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight smoke rising among the trees; + he stopped, looked more attentively, and saw, in the midst of a vast + copse, the dark-green branches of several pine-trees. + </p> + <p> + “A house! a house!” he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in crying + “Land!” + </p> + <p> + Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who had fallen + into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair here,” he said, + “than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux.” + </p> + <p> + These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from the + councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of which + glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree trunks. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory,” cried the + marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through which they + could see, in the midst of a large park, a building constructed in the + style of the monasteries of old. “How those rascals the monks knew how to + choose their sites!” + </p> + <p> + This last exclamation was an expression of surprise and pleasure at the + poetical hermitage which met his eyes. The house stood on the slope of the + mountain, at the summit of which is the village of Nerville. The great + centennial oaks of the forest which encircled the dwelling made the place + an absolute solitude. The main building, formerly occupied by the monks, + faced south. The park seemed to have about forty acres. Near the house lay + a succession of green meadows, charmingly crossed by several clear + rivulets, with here and there a piece of water naturally placed without + the least apparent artifice. Trees of elegant shape and varied foliage + were distributed about. Grottos, cleverly managed, and massive terraces + with dilapidated steps and rusty railings, gave a peculiar character to + this lone retreat. Art had harmonized her constructions with the + picturesque effects of nature. Human passions seemed to die at the feet of + those great trees, which guarded this asylum from the tumult of the world + as they shaded it from the fires of the sun. + </p> + <p> + “How desolate!” thought Monsieur d’Albon, observing the sombre expression + which the ancient building gave to the landscape, gloomy as though a curse + were on it. It seemed a fatal spot deserted by man. Ivy had stretched its + tortuous muscles, covered by its rich green mantle, everywhere. Brown or + green, red or yellow mosses and lichen spread their romantic tints on + trees and seats and roofs and stones. The crumbling window-casings were + hollowed by rain, defaced by time; the balconies were broken, the terraces + demolished. Some of the outside shutters hung from a single hinge. The + rotten doors seemed quite unable to resist an assailant. Covered with + shining tufts of mistletoe, the branches of the neglected fruit-trees gave + no sign of fruit. Grass grew in the paths. Such ruin and desolation cast a + weird poesy on the scene, filling the souls of the spectators with dreamy + thoughts. A poet would have stood there long, plunged in a melancholy + reverie, admiring this disorder so full of harmony, this destruction which + was not without its grace. Suddenly, the brown tiles shone, the mosses + glittered, fantastic shadows danced upon the meadows and beneath the + trees; fading colors revived; striking contrasts developed, the foliage of + the trees and shrubs defined itself more clearly in the light. Then—the + light went out. The landscape seemed to have spoken, and now was silent, + returning to its gloom, or rather to the soft sad tones of an autumnal + twilight. + </p> + <p> + “It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty,” said the marquis, beginning to + view the house with the eyes of a land owner. “I wonder to whom it + belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an exquisite + spot.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant a woman sprang from beneath a chestnut-tree standing to + the right of the gate, and, without making any noise, passed before the + marquis as rapidly as the shadow of a cloud. This vision made him mute + with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Albon, what’s the matter?” asked the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake,” replied the + marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to get another + sight of the phantom. + </p> + <p> + “She must be beneath that fig-tree,” he said, pointing to the foliage of a + tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate. + </p> + <p> + “She! who?” + </p> + <p> + “How can I tell?” replied Monsieur d’Albon. “A strange woman rose up + there, just before me,” he said in a low voice; “she seemed to come from + the world of shades rather than from the land of the living. She is so + slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her face was as white + as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. She looked at me as + she flitted by, and though I may say I’m no coward, that cold immovable + look froze the blood in my veins.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she pretty?” asked Philippe. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that face.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!” cried the colonel. + “Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter that + singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and the red + lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn’t the place look to you as if it + belonged to the devil?—perhaps he inherited it from the monks. Come, + let us pursue the black and white lady—forward, march!” cried + Philippe, with forced gaiety. + </p> + <p> + At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was something like that + of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a few shrubs + sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking wave. In vain they + listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and kept the secret of + those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved at all. + </p> + <p> + “It is very singular!” said Philippe, as they skirted the park wall. + </p> + <p> + The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which led to the + village of Chauvry. After following this path some way toward the main + road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to the principal + facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side the dilapidation and + disorder of the premises had reached their height. Immense cracks furrowed + the walls of the house, which was built on three sides of a square. + Fragments of tiles and slates lying on the ground, and the dilapidated + condition of the roofs, were evidence of a total want of care on the part + of the owners. The fruit had fallen from the trees and lay rotting on the + ground; a cow was feeding on the lawn and treading down the flowers in the + borders, while a goat browsed on the shoots of the vines and munched the + unripe grapes. + </p> + <p> + “Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized,” said the colonel, + pulling the chain of a bell; but the bell was without a clapper. + </p> + <p> + The huntsmen heard nothing but the curiously sharp noise of a rusty + spring. Though very dilapidated, a little door made in the wall beside the + iron gates resisted all their efforts to open it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, this is getting to be exciting,” said de Sucy to his + companion. + </p> + <p> + “If I were not a magistrate,” replied Monsieur d’Albon, “I should think + that woman was a witch.” + </p> + <p> + As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed her warm + muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing human beings. Then + a woman, if that name could be applied to the indefinable being who + suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away the cow by its rope. + This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, beneath which trailed long + locks of hair in color and shape like the flax on a distaff. She wore no + fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black and gray stripes, too short by + several inches, exposed her legs. She might have belonged to some tribe of + Red-Skins described by Cooper, for her legs, neck, and arms were the color + of brick. No ray of intelligence enlivened her vacant face. A few whitish + hairs served her for eyebrows; the eyes themselves, of a dull blue, were + cold and wan; and her mouth was so formed as to show the teeth, which were + crooked, but as white as those of a dog. + </p> + <p> + “Here, my good woman!” called Monsieur de Sucy. + </p> + <p> + She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly expression at the + two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful smile to her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong here?” + </p> + <p> + To these questions and several others which the two friends alternately + addressed to her, she answered only with guttural sounds that seemed more + like the growl of an animal than the voice of a human being. + </p> + <p> + “She must be deaf and dumb,” said the marquis. + </p> + <p> + “Bons-Hommes!” cried the peasant woman. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the Bons-Hommes,” said + the marquis. + </p> + <p> + He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the peasant woman + colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of the cow, which + was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two hunters, examining every + part of their clothing; then she yelped, growled, and clucked, but did not + speak. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as if he meant + to mesmerize her. + </p> + <p> + “Genevieve,” she said, laughing with a silly air. + </p> + <p> + “The cow is the most intelligent being we have seen so far,” said the + marquis. “I shall fire my gun and see if that will being some one.” + </p> + <p> + Just as d’Albon raised his gun, the colonel stopped him with a gesture, + and pointed to the form of a woman, probably the one who had so keenly + piqued his curiosity. At this moment she seemed lost in the deepest + meditation, and was coming with slow steps along a distant pathway, so + that the two friends had ample time to examine her. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed in a ragged gown of black satin. Her long hair fell in + masses of curls over her forehead, around her shoulders, and below her + waist, serving her for a shawl. Accustomed no doubt to this disorder, she + seldom pushed her hair from her forehead; and when she did so, it was with + a sudden toss of her head which only for a moment cleared her forehead and + eyes from the thick veil. Her gesture, like that of an animal, had a + remarkable mechanical precision, the quickness of which seemed wonderful + in a woman. The huntsmen were amazed to see her suddenly leap up on the + branch of an apple-tree, and sit there with the ease of a bird. She + gathered an apple and ate it; then she dropped to the ground with the + graceful ease we admire in a squirrel. Her limbs possessed an elasticity + which took from every movement the slightest appearance of effort or + constraint. She played upon the turf, rolling herself about like a child; + then, suddenly, she flung her feet and hands forward, and lay at full + length on the grass, with the grace and natural ease of a young cat asleep + in the sun. Thunder sounded in the distance, and she turned suddenly, + rising on her hands and knees with the rapidity of a dog which hears a + coming footstep. + </p> + <p> + The effects of this singular attitude was to separate into two heavy + masses the volume of her black hair, which now fell on either side of her + head, and allowed the two spectators to admire the white shoulders + glistening like daisies in a field, and the throat, the perfection of + which allowed them to judge of the other beauties of her figure. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she uttered a distressful cry and rose to her feet. Her movements + succeeded each other with such airiness and grace that she seemed not a + creature of this world but a daughter of the atmosphere, as sung in the + poems of Ossian. She ran toward a piece of water, shook one of her legs + lightly to cast off her shoe, and began to dabble her foot, white as + alabaster, in the current, admiring, perhaps, the undulations she thus + produced upon the surface of the water. Then she knelt down at the edge of + the stream and amused herself, like a child, in casting in her long + tresses and pulling them abruptly out, to watch the shower of drops that + glittered down, looking, as the sunlight struck athwart them, like a + chaplet of pearls. + </p> + <p> + “That woman is mad!” cried the marquis. + </p> + <p> + A hoarse cry, uttered by Genevieve, seemed uttered as a warning to the + unknown woman, who turned suddenly, throwing back her hair from either + side of her face. At this instant the colonel and Monsieur d’Albon could + distinctly see her features; she, herself, perceiving the two friends, + sprang to the iron railing with the lightness and rapidity of a deer. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, the melody of which did + not convey the slightest feeling or the slightest thought. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Albon admired the long lashes of her eyelids, the blackness of + her eyebrows, and the dazzling whiteness of a skin devoid of even the + faintest tinge of color. Tiny blue veins alone broke the uniformity of its + pure white tones. When the marquis turned to his friend as if to share + with him his amazement at the sight of this singular creature, he found + him stretched on the ground as if dead. D’Albon fired his gun in the air + to summon assistance, crying out “Help! help!” and then endeavored to + revive the colonel. At the sound of the shot, the unknown woman, who had + hitherto stood motionless, fled away with the rapidity of an arrow, + uttering cries of fear like a wounded animal, and running hither and + thither about the meadow with every sign of the greatest terror. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Albon, hearing the rumbling of a carriage on the high-road to + Ile-Adam, waved his handkerchief and shouted to its occupants for + assistance. The carriage was immediately driven up to the old monastery, + and the marquis recognized his neighbors, Monsieur and Madame de + Granville, who at once gave up their carriage to the service of the two + gentlemen. Madame de Granville had with her, by chance, a bottle of salts, + which revived the colonel for a moment. When he opened his eyes he turned + them to the meadow, where the unknown woman was still running and uttering + her distressing cries. A smothered exclamation escaped him, which seemed + to express a sense of horror; then he closed his eyes again, and made a + gesture as if to implore his friend to remove him from that sight. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur and Madame de Granville placed their carriage entirely at the + disposal of the marquis, assuring him courteously that they would like to + continue their way on foot. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that lady?” asked the marquis, signing toward the unknown woman. + </p> + <p> + “I believe she comes from Moulins,” replied Monsieur de Granville. “She is + the Comtesse de Vandieres, and they say she is mad; but as she has only + been here two months I will not vouch for the truth of these hearsays.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Albon thanked his friends, and placing the colonel in the + carriage, started with him for Cassan. + </p> + <p> + “It is she!” cried Philippe, recovering his senses. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” asked d’Albon. + </p> + <p> + “Stephanie. Ah, dead and living, living and mad! I fancied I was dying.” + </p> + <p> + The prudent marquis, appreciating the gravity of the crisis through which + his friend was passing, was careful not to question or excite him; he was + only anxious to reach the chateau, for the change which had taken place in + the colonel’s features, in fact in his whole person, made him fear for his + friend’s reason. As soon, therefore, as the carriage had reached the main + street of Ile-Adam, he dispatched the footman to the village doctor, so + that the colonel was no sooner fairly in his bed at the chateau than the + physician was beside him. + </p> + <p> + “If monsieur had not been many hours without food the shock would have + killed him,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + After naming the first precautions, the doctor left the room, to prepare, + himself, a calming potion. The next day, Monsieur de Sucy was better, but + the doctor still watched him carefully. + </p> + <p> + “I will admit to you, monsieur le marquis,” he said, “that I have feared + some affection of the brain. Monsieur de Sucy has received a violent + shock; his passions are strong; but, in him, the first blow decides all. + To-morrow he may be entirely out of danger.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor was not mistaken; and the following day he allowed the marquis + to see his friend. + </p> + <p> + “My dear d’Albon,” said Philippe, pressing his hand, “I am going to ask a + kindness of you. Go to the Bons-Hommes, and find out all you can of the + lady we saw there; and return to me as quickly as you can; I shall count + the minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Monsieur d’Albon mounted his horse at once, and galloped to the old abbey. + When he arrived there, he saw before the iron gate a tall, spare man with + a very kindly face, who answered in the affirmative when asked if he lived + there. Monsieur d’Albon then informed him of the reasons for his visit. + </p> + <p> + “What! monsieur,” said the other, “was it you who fired that fatal shot? + You very nearly killed my poor patient.” + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur, I fired in the air.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we must not reproach each other, monsieur, for the sight of the + countess has almost killed my friend, Monsieur de Sucy.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! can you mean Baron Philippe de Sucy?” cried the doctor, clasping + his hands. “Did he go to Russia; was he at the passage of the Beresina?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied d’Albon, “he was captured by the Cossacks and kept for five + years in Siberia; he recovered his liberty a few months ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, monsieur,” said the master of the house, leading the marquis + into a room on the lower floor where everything bore the marks of + capricious destruction. The silken curtains beside the windows were torn, + while those of muslin remained intact. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the tall old man, as they entered, “the ravages committed + by that dear creature, to whom I devote myself. She is my niece; in spite + of the impotence of my art, I hope some day to restore her reason by + attempting a method which can only be employed, unfortunately, by very + rich people.” + </p> + <p> + Then, like all persons living in solitude who are afflicted with an ever + present and ever renewed grief, he related to the marquis at length the + following narrative, which is here condensed, and relieved of the many + digressions made by both the narrator and the listener. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA + </h2> + <p> + Marechal Victor, when he started, about nine at night, from the heights of + Studzianka, which he had defended, as the rear-guard of the retreating + army, during the whole day of November 28th, 1812, left a thousand men + behind him, with orders to protect to the last possible moment whichever + of the two bridges across the Beresina might still exist. This rear-guard + had devoted itself to the task of saving a frightful multitude of + stragglers overcome by the cold, who obstinately refused to leave the + bivouacs of the army. The heroism of this generous troop proved useless. + The stragglers who flocked in masses to the banks of the Beresina found + there, unhappily, an immense number of carriages, caissons, and articles + of all kinds which the army had been forced to abandon when effecting its + passage of the river on the 27th and 28th of November. Heirs to such + unlooked-for riches, the unfortunate men, stupid with cold, took up their + abode in the deserted bivouacs, broke up the material which they found + there to build themselves cabins, made fuel of everything that came to + hand, cut up the frozen carcasses of the horses for food, tore the cloth + and the curtains from the carriages for coverlets, and went to sleep, + instead of continuing their way and crossing quietly during the night that + cruel Beresina, which an incredible fatality had already made so + destructive to the army. + </p> + <p> + The apathy of these poor soldiers can only be conceived by those who + remember to have crossed vast deserts of snow without other perspective + than a snow horizon, without other drink than snow, without other bed than + snow, without other food than snow or a few frozen beet-roots, a few + handfuls of flour, or a little horseflesh. Dying of hunger, thirst, + fatigue, and want of sleep, these unfortunates reached a shore where they + saw before them wood, provisions, innumerable camp equipages, and + carriages,—in short a whole town at their service. The village of + Studzianka had been wholly taken to pieces and conveyed from the heights + on which it stood to the plain. However forlorn and dangerous that refuge + might be, its miseries and its perils only courted men who had lately seen + nothing before them but the awful deserts of Russia. It was, in fact, a + vast asylum which had an existence of twenty-four hours only. + </p> + <p> + Utter lassitude, and the sense of unexpected comfort, made that mass of + men inaccessible to every thought but that of rest. Though the artillery + of the left wing of the Russians kept up a steady fire on this mass,—visible + like a stain now black, now flaming, in the midst of the trackless snow,—this + shot and shell seemed to the torpid creatures only one inconvenience the + more. It was like a thunderstorm, despised by all because the lightning + strikes so few; the balls struck only here and there, the dying, the sick, + the dead sometimes! Stragglers arrived in groups continually; but once + here those perambulating corpses separated; each begged for himself a + place near a fire; repulsed repeatedly, they met again, to obtain by force + the hospitality already refused to them. Deaf to the voice of some of + their officers, who warned them of probable destruction on the morrow, + they spent the amount of courage necessary to cross the river in building + that asylum of a night, in making one meal that they themselves doomed to + be their last. The death that awaited them they considered no evil, + provided they could have that one night’s sleep. They thought nothing evil + but hunger, thirst, and cold. When there was no more wood or food or fire, + horrible struggles took place between fresh-comers and the rich who + possessed a shelter. The weakest succumbed. + </p> + <p> + At last there came a moment when a number, pursued by the Russians, found + only snow on which to bivouac, and these lay down to rise no more. + Insensibly this mass of almost annihilated beings became so compact, so + deaf, so torpid, so happy perhaps, that Marechal Victor, who had been + their heroic defender by holding twenty thousand Russians under + Wittgenstein at bay, was forced to open a passage by main force through + this forest of men in order to cross the Beresina with five thousand + gallant fellows whom he was taking to the emperor. The unfortunate + malingerers allowed themselves to be crushed rather than stir; they + perished in silence, smiling at their extinguished fires, without a + thought of France. + </p> + <p> + It was not until ten o’clock that night that Marechal Victor reached the + bank of the river. Before crossing the bridge which led to Zembin, he + confided the fate of his own rear-guard now left in Studzianka to Eble, + the savior of all those who survived the calamities of the Beresina. It + was towards midnight when this great general, followed by one brave + officer, left the cabin he occupied near the bridge, and studied the + spectacle of that improvised camp placed between the bank of the river and + Studzianka. The Russian cannon had ceased to thunder. Innumerable fires, + which, amid that trackless waste of snow, burned pale and scarcely sent + out any gleams, illumined here and there by sudden flashes forms and faces + that were barely human. Thirty thousand poor wretches, belonging to all + nations, from whom Napoleon had recruited his Russian army, were trifling + away their lives with brutish indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Let us save them!” said General Eble to the officer who accompanied him. + “To-morrow morning the Russians will be masters of Studzianka. We must + burn the bridge the moment they appear. Therefore, my friend, take your + courage in your hand! Go to the heights. Tell General Fournier he has + barely time to evacuate his position, force a way through this crowd, and + cross the bridge. When you have seen him in motion follow him. Find men + you can trust, and the moment Fournier had crossed the bridge, burn, + without pity, huts, equipages, caissons, carriages,—EVERYTHING! + Drive that mass of men to the bridge. Compel all that has two legs to get + to the other side of the river. The burning of everything—EVERYTHING—is + now our last resource. If Berthier had let me destroy those damned camp + equipages, this river would swallow only my poor pontoniers, those fifty + heroes who will save the army, but who themselves will be forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He felt that + Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do justice to + those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of Beresina, to + destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those heroes still + lives—or, to speak more correctly, suffers—in a village, + totally ignored. + </p> + <p> + The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer gone a hundred + yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a number of his weary + pontoniers, and began the work,—the charitable work of burning the + bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing the sleepers, thus + dislodged, to cross the river. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without difficulty, the only + wooden house still left standing in Studzianka. + </p> + <p> + “This barrack seems pretty full, comrade,” he said to a man whom he saw by + the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “If you can get in you’ll be a clever trooper,” replied the officer, + without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the bark + of the logs of which the house was built. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Philippe?” said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend by + the tones of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?” replied Monsieur de Sucy, looking at + the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three years of age. + “I thought you were the other side of that cursed river. What are you here + for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our dessert? You’ll be welcome,” + and he went on slicing off the bark, which he gave as a sort of provender + to his horse. + </p> + <p> + “I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to make + for Zembin. You’ll have barely enough time to get through that crowd of + men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and force them + to march.” + </p> + <p> + “You warm me up—almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two + friends I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be + dead already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don’t eat myself. + Have you any food,—a mere crust? It is thirty hours since anything + has gone into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a madman—just + to keep a little warmth and courage in me.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Philippe, I have nothing—nothing! But where’s your general,—in + this house?” + </p> + <p> + “No, don’t go there; the place is full of wounded. Go up the street; + you’ll find on your left a sort of pig-pen; the general is there. + Good-bye, old fellow. If we ever dance a trenis on a Paris floor—” + </p> + <p> + He did not end his sentence; the north wind blew at that moment with such + ferocity that the aide-de-camp hurried on to escape being frozen, and the + lips of Major de Sucy stiffened. Silence reigned, broken only by the moans + which came from the house, and the dull sound made by the major’s horse as + it chewed in a fury of hunger the icy bark of the trees with which the + house was built. Monsieur de Sucy replaced his sabre in its scabbard, took + the bridle of the precious horse he had hitherto been able to preserve, + and led it, in spite of the animal’s resistance, from the wretched fodder + it appeared to think excellent. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll start, Bichette, we’ll start! There’s none but you, my beauty, who + can save Stephanie. Ha! by and bye you and I may be able to rest—and + die,” he added. + </p> + <p> + Philippe, wrapped in a fur pelisse, to which he owed his preservation and + his energy, began to run, striking his feet hard upon the frozen snow to + keep them warm. Scarcely had he gone a few hundred yards from the village + than he saw a blaze in the direction of the place where, since morning, he + had left his carriage in charge of his former orderly, an old soldier. + Horrible anxiety laid hold of him. Like all others who were controlled + during this fatal retreat by some powerful sentiment, he found a strength + to save his friends which he could not have put forth to save himself. + </p> + <p> + Presently he reached a slight declivity at the foot of which, in a spot + sheltered from the enemy’s balls, he had stationed the carriage, + containing a young woman, the companion of his childhood, the being most + dear to him on earth. At a few steps distant from the vehicle he now found + a company of some thirty stragglers collected around an immense fire, + which they were feeding with planks, caisson covers, wheels, and broken + carriages. These soldiers were, no doubt, the last comers of that crowd + who, from the base of the hill of Studzianka to the fatal river, formed an + ocean of heads intermingled with fires and huts,—a living sea, + swayed by motions that were almost imperceptible, and giving forth a + murmuring sound that rose at times to frightful outbursts. Driven by + famine and despair, these poor wretches must have rifled the carriage + before de Sucy reached it. The old general and his young wife, whom he had + left lying in piles of clothes and wrapped in mantles and pelisses, were + now on the snow, crouching before the fire. One door of the carriage was + already torn off. + </p> + <p> + No sooner did the men about the fire hear the tread of the major’s horse + than a hoarse cry, the cry of famine, arose,— + </p> + <p> + “A horse! a horse!” + </p> + <p> + Those voices formed but one voice. + </p> + <p> + “Back! back! look out for yourself!” cried two or three soldiers, aiming + at the mare. Philippe threw himself before his animal, crying out,— + </p> + <p> + “You villains! I’ll throw you into your own fire. There are plenty of dead + horses up there. Go and fetch them.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t he a joker, that officer! One, two—get out of the way,” cried + a colossal grenadier. “No, you won’t, hey! Well, as you please, then.” + </p> + <p> + A woman’s cry rose higher than the report of the musket. Philippe + fortunately was not touched, but Bichette, mortally wounded, was + struggling in the throes of death. Three men darted forward and dispatched + her with their bayonets. + </p> + <p> + “Cannibals!” cried Philippe, “let me at any rate take the horse-cloth and + my pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “Pistols, yes,” replied the grenadier. “But as for that horse-cloth, no! + here’s a poor fellow afoot, with nothing in his stomach for two days, and + shivering in his rags. It is our general.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe kept silence as he looked at the man, whose boots were worn out, + his trousers torn in a dozen places, while nothing but a ragged + fatigue-cap covered with ice was on his head. He hastened, however, to + take his pistols. Five men dragged the mare to the fire, and cut her up + with the dexterity of a Parisian butcher. The pieces were instantly seized + and flung upon the embers. + </p> + <p> + The major went up to the young woman, who had uttered a cry on recognizing + him. He found her motionless, seated on a cushion beside the fire. She + looked at him silently, without smiling. Philippe then saw the soldier to + whom he had confided the carriage; the man was wounded. Overcome by + numbers, he had been forced to yield to the malingerers who attacked him; + and, like the dog who defended to the last possible moment his master’s + dinner, he had taken his share of the booty, and was now sitting beside + the fire, wrapped in a white sheet by way of cloak, and turning carefully + on the embers a slice of the mare. Philippe saw upon his face the joy + these preparations gave him. The Comte de Vandieres, who, for the last few + days, had fallen into a state of second childhood, was seated on a cushion + beside his wife, looking fixedly at the fire, which was beginning to thaw + his torpid limbs. He had shown no emotion of any kind, either at + Philippe’s danger, or at the fight which ended in the pillage of the + carriage and their expulsion from it. + </p> + <p> + At first de Sucy took the hand of the young countess, as if to show her + his affection, and the grief he felt at seeing her reduced to such utter + misery; then he grew silent; seated beside her on a heap of snow which was + turning into a rivulet as it melted, he yielded himself up to the + happiness of being warm, forgetting their peril, forgetting all things. + His face assumed, in spite of himself, an expression of almost stupid joy, + and he waited with impatience until the fragment of the mare given to his + orderly was cooked. The smell of the roasting flesh increased his hunger, + and his hunger silenced his heart, his courage, and his love. He looked, + without anger, at the results of the pillage of his carriage. All the men + seated around the fire had shared his blankets, cushions, pelisses, robes, + also the clothing of the Comte and Comtesse de Vandieres and his own. + Philippe looked about him to see if there was anything left in or near the + vehicle that was worth saving. By the light of the flames he saw gold and + diamonds and plate scattered everywhere, no one having thought it worth + his while to take any. + </p> + <p> + Each of the individuals collected by chance around this fire maintained a + silence that was almost horrible, and did nothing but what he judged + necessary for his own welfare. Their misery was even grotesque. Faces, + discolored by cold, were covered with a layer of mud, on which tears had + made a furrow from the eyes to the beard, showing the thickness of that + miry mask. The filth of their long beards made these men still more + repulsive. Some were wrapped in the countess’s shawls, others wore the + trappings of horses and muddy saddlecloths, or masses of rags from which + the hoar-frost hung; some had a boot on one leg and a shoe on the other; + in fact, there were none whose costume did not present some laughable + singularity. But in presence of such amusing sights the men themselves + were grave and gloomy. The silence was broken only by the snapping of the + wood, the crackling of the flames, the distant murmur of the camps, and + the blows of the sabre given to what remained of Bichette in search of her + tenderest morsels. A few miserable creatures, perhaps more weary than the + rest, were sleeping; when one of their number rolled into the fire no one + attempted to help him out. These stern logicians argued that if he were + not dead his burns would warn him to find a safer place. If the poor + wretch waked in the flames and perished, no one cared. Two or three + soldiers looked at each other to justify their own indifference by that of + others. Twice this scene had taken place before the eyes of the countess, + who said nothing. When the various pieces of Bichette, placed here and + there upon the embers, were sufficiently broiled, each man satisfied his + hunger with the gluttony that disgusts us when we see it in animals. + </p> + <p> + “This is the first time I ever saw thirty infantrymen on one horse,” cried + the grenadier who had shot the mare. + </p> + <p> + It was the only jest made that night which proved the national character. + </p> + <p> + Soon the great number of these poor soldiers wrapped themselves in what + they could find and lay down on planks, or whatever would keep them from + contact with the snow, and slept, heedless of the morrow. When the major + was warm, and his hunger appeased, an invincible desire to sleep weighed + down his eyelids. During the short moment of his struggle against that + desire he looked at the young woman, who had turned her face to the fire + and was now asleep, leaving her closed eyes and a portion of her forehead + exposed to sight. She was wrapped in a furred pelisse and a heavy + dragoon’s cloak; her head rested on a pillow stained with blood; an + astrakhan hood, kept in place by a handkerchief knotted round her neck, + preserved her face from the cold as much as possible. Her feet were + wrapped in the cloak. Thus rolled into a bundle, as it were, she looked + like nothing at all. Was she the last of the “vivandieres”? Was she a + charming woman, the glory of a lover, the queen of Parisian salons? Alas! + even the eye of her most devoted friend could trace no sign of anything + feminine in that mass of rags and tatters. Love had succumbed to cold in + the heart of a woman! + </p> + <p> + Through the thick veils of irresistible sleep, the major soon saw the + husband and wife as mere points or formless objects. The flames of the + fire, those outstretched figures, the relentless cold, waiting, not three + feet distant from that fugitive heat, became all a dream. One importunate + thought terrified Philippe: + </p> + <p> + “If I sleep, we shall all die; I will not sleep,” he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + And yet he slept. + </p> + <p> + A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. The sense of + his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his heart. He uttered + a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were alone afoot. A sea of + fire lay before them in the darkness of the night, licking up the cabins + and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, and imprecations reached their + ears; they saw against the flames thousands of human beings with agonized + or furious faces. In the midst of that hell, a column of soldiers was + forcing its way to the bridge, between two hedges of dead bodies. + </p> + <p> + “It is the retreat of the rear-guard!” cried the major. “All hope is + gone!” + </p> + <p> + “I have saved your carriage, Philippe,” said a friendly voice. + </p> + <p> + Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in the flaring of + the flames. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! all is lost!” replied the major, “they have eaten my horse; and how + can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?” + </p> + <p> + “Take a brand from the fire and threaten them.” + </p> + <p> + “Threaten the countess!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” said the aide-de-camp, “I have scarcely time to get across + that fatal river—and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a + night! These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will allow + themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move on. It is + four o’clock, Philippe! In two hours the Russians will begin to move. I + assure you you will again see the Beresina choked with corpses. Philippe! + think of yourself! You have no horses, you cannot carry the countess in + your arms. Come—come with me!” he said urgently, pulling de Sucy by + the arm. + </p> + <p> + “My friend! abandon Stephanie!” + </p> + <p> + De Sucy seized the countess, made her stand upright, shook her with the + roughness of a despairing man, and compelled her to wake up. She looked at + him with fixed, dead eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You must walk, Stephanie, or we shall all die here.” + </p> + <p> + For all answer the countess tried to drop again upon the snow and sleep. + The aide-de-camp seized a brand from the fire and waved it in her face. + </p> + <p> + “We will save her in spite of herself!” cried Philippe, lifting the + countess and placing her in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + He returned to implore the help of his friend. Together they lifted the + old general, without knowing whether he were dead or alive, and put him + beside his wife. The major then rolled over the men who were sleeping on + his blankets, which he tossed into the carriage, together with some + roasted fragments of his mare. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to do?” asked the aide-de-camp. + </p> + <p> + “Drag them.” + </p> + <p> + “You are crazy.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said Philippe, crossing his arms in despair. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, he was seized by a last despairing thought. + </p> + <p> + “To you,” he said, grasping the sound arm of his orderly, “I confide her + for one hour. Remember that you must die sooner than let any one approach + her.” + </p> + <p> + The major then snatched up the countess’s diamonds, held them in one hand, + drew his sabre with the other, and began to strike with the flat of its + blade such of the sleepers as he thought the most intrepid. He succeeded + in awaking the colossal grenadier, and two other men whose rank it was + impossible to tell. + </p> + <p> + “We are done for!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” said the grenadier, “but I don’t care.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, death for death, wouldn’t you rather sell your life for a pretty + woman, and take your chances of seeing France?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d rather sleep,” said a man, rolling over on the snow, “and if you + trouble me again, I’ll stick my bayonet into your stomach.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the business, my colonel?” said the grenadier. “That man is + drunk; he’s a Parisian; he likes his ease.” + </p> + <p> + “That is yours, my brave grenadier,” cried the major, offering him a + string of diamonds, “if you will follow me and fight like a madman. The + Russians are ten minutes’ march from here; they have horses; we are going + up to their first battery for a pair.” + </p> + <p> + “But the sentinels?” + </p> + <p> + “One of us three—” he interrupted himself, and turned to the + aide-de-camp. “You will come, Hippolyte, won’t you?” + </p> + <p> + Hippolyte nodded. + </p> + <p> + “One of us,” continued the major, “will take care of the sentinel. + Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed Russians.” + </p> + <p> + “Forward! major, you’re a brave one! But you’ll give me a lift on your + carriage?” said the grenadier. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you don’t leave your skin up there—If I fall, Hippolyte, + and you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the countess.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed!” cried the grenadier. + </p> + <p> + They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which had + so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river. A few + moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow, and the + wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above the heads of + the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet that their steps + resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his anvil. The generous + aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier was safe and sound. + Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a bayonet in his shoulder; + but he clung to his horse’s mane, and clasped him so tightly with his + knees that the animal was held as in a vice. + </p> + <p> + “God be praised!” cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and the + carriage in its place. + </p> + <p> + “If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this,” said + the man. “We’ve played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “We have done nothing yet—Harness the horses. Take these ropes.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not long enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen, to + eke out.” + </p> + <p> + “Tiens! that’s one dead,” said the grenadier, stripping the first man he + came to. “Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!” + </p> + <p> + “All?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, all; seems as if horse-meat must be indigestible if eaten with + snow.” + </p> + <p> + The words made Philippe tremble. The cold was increasing. + </p> + <p> + “My God! to lose the woman I have saved a dozen times!” + </p> + <p> + The major shook the countess. + </p> + <p> + “Stephanie! Stephanie!” + </p> + <p> + The young woman opened her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Madame! we are saved.” + </p> + <p> + “Saved!” she repeated, sinking down again. + </p> + <p> + The horses were harnessed as best they could. The major, holding his sabre + in his well hand, with his pistols in his belt, gathered up the reins with + the other hand and mounted one horse while the grenadier mounted the + other. The orderly, whose feet were frozen, was thrown inside the + carriage, across the general and the countess. Excited by pricks from a + sabre, the horses drew the carriage rapidly, with a sort of fury, to the + plain, where innumerable obstacles awaited it. It was impossible to force + a way without danger of crushing the sleeping men, women, and even + children, who refused to move when the grenadier awoke them. In vain did + Monsieur de Sucy endeavor to find the swathe cut by the rear-guard through + the mass of human beings; it was already obliterated, like the wake of a + vessel through the sea. They could only creep along, being often stopped + by soldiers who threatened to kill their horses. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to reach the bridge?” said the grenadier. + </p> + <p> + “At the cost of my life—at the cost of the whole world!” + </p> + <p> + “Then forward, march! you can’t make omelets without breaking eggs.” + </p> + <p> + And the grenadier of the guard urged the horses over men and bivouacs with + bloody wheels and a double line of corpses on either side of them. We must + do him the justice to say that he never spared his breath in shouting in + stentorian tones,— + </p> + <p> + “Look out there, carrion!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor wretches!” cried the major. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! that or the cold, that or the cannon,” said the grenadier, prodding + the horses, and urging them on. + </p> + <p> + A catastrophe, which might well have happened to them much sooner, put a + stop to their advance. The carriage was overturned. + </p> + <p> + “I expected it,” cried the imperturbable grenadier. “Ho! ho! your man is + dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Laurent!” said the major. + </p> + <p> + “Laurent? Was he in the 5th chasseurs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he was my cousin. Oh, well, this dog’s life isn’t happy enough to + waste any joy in grieving for him.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage could not be raised; the horses were taken out with serious + and, as it proved, irreparable loss of time. The shock of the overturn was + so violent that the young countess, roused from her lethargy, threw off + her coverings and rose. + </p> + <p> + “Philippe, where are we?” she cried in a gentle voice, looking about her. + </p> + <p> + “Only five hundred feet from the bridge. We are now going to cross the + Beresina, Stephanie, and once across I will not torment you any more; you + shall sleep; we shall be in safety, and can reach Wilna easily.—God + grant that she may never know what her life has cost!” he thought. + </p> + <p> + “Philippe! you are wounded!” + </p> + <p> + “That is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Too late! the fatal hour had come. The Russian cannon sounded the + reveille. Masters of Studzianka, they could sweep the plain, and by + daylight the major could see two of their columns moving and forming on + the heights. A cry of alarm arose from the multitude, who started to their + feet in an instant. Every man now understood his danger instinctively, and + the whole mass rushed to gain the bridge with the motion of a wave. + </p> + <p> + The Russians came down with the rapidity of a conflagration. Men, women, + children, horses,—all rushed tumultuously to the bridge. Fortunately + the major, who was carrying the countess, was still some distance from it. + General Eble had just set fire to the supports on the other bank. In spite + of the warnings shouted to those who were rushing upon the bridge, not a + soul went back. Not only did the bridge go down crowded with human beings, + but the impetuosity of that flood of men toward the fatal bank was so + furious that a mass of humanity poured itself violently into the river + like an avalanche. Not a cry was heard; the only sound was like the + dropping of monstrous stones into the water. Then the Beresina was a mass + of floating corpses. + </p> + <p> + The retrograde movement of those who now fell back into the plain to + escape the death before them was so violent, and their concussion against + those who were advancing from the rear so terrible, that numbers were + smothered or trampled to death. The Comte and Comtesse de Vandieres owed + their lives to their carriage, behind which Philippe forced them, using it + as a breastwork. As for the major and the grenadier, they found their + safety in their strength. They killed to escape being killed. + </p> + <p> + This hurricane of human beings, the flux and reflux of living bodies, had + the effect of leaving for a few short moments the whole bank of the + Beresina deserted. The multitude were surging to the plain. If a few men + rushed to the river, it was less in the hope of reaching the other bank, + which to them was France, than to rush from the horrors of Siberia. + Despair proved an aegis to some bold hearts. One officer sprang from + ice-cake to ice-cake, and reached the opposite shore. A soldier clambered + miraculously over mounds of dead bodies and heaps of ice. The multitude + finally comprehended that the Russians would not put to death a body of + twenty thousand men, without arms, torpid, stupid, unable to defend + themselves; and each man awaited his fate with horrible resignation. Then + the major and the grenadier, the general and his wife, remained almost + alone on the river bank, a few steps from the spot where the bridge had + been. They stood there, with dry eyes, silent, surrounded by heaps of + dead. A few sound soldiers, a few officers to whom the emergency had + restored their natural energy, were near them. This group consisted of + some fifty men in all. The major noticed at a distance of some two hundred + yards the remains of another bridge intended for carriages and destroyed + the day before. + </p> + <p> + “Let us make a raft!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + He had hardly uttered the words before the whole group rushed to the + ruins, and began to pick up iron bolts, and screws, and pieces of wood and + ropes, whatever materials they could find that were suitable for the + construction of a raft. A score of soldiers and officers, who were armed, + formed a guard, commanded by the major, to protect the workers against the + desperate attacks which might be expected from the crowd, if their scheme + was discovered. The instinct of freedom, strong in all prisoners, + inspiring them to miraculous acts, can only be compared with that which + now drove to action these unfortunate Frenchmen. + </p> + <p> + “The Russians! the Russians are coming!” cried the defenders to the + workers; and the work went on, the raft increased in length and breadth + and depth. Generals, soldiers, colonel, all put their shoulders to the + wheel; it was a true image of the building of Noah’s ark. The young + countess, seated beside her husband, watched the progress of the work with + regret that she could not help it; and yet she did assist in making knots + to secure the cordage. + </p> + <p> + At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it on the river, a dozen + others holding the cords which moored it to the shore. But no sooner had + the builders seen their handiwork afloat, than they sprang from the bank + with odious selfishness. The major, fearing the fury of this first rush, + held back the countess and the general, but too late he saw the whole raft + covered, men pressing together like crowds at a theatre. + </p> + <p> + “Savages!” he cried, “it was I who gave you the idea of that raft. I have + saved you, and you deny me a place.” + </p> + <p> + A confused murmur answered him. The men at the edge of the raft, armed + with long sticks, pressed with violence against the shore to send off the + frail construction with sufficient impetus to force its way through + corpses and ice-floes to the other shore. + </p> + <p> + “Thunder of heaven! I’ll sweep you into the water if you don’t take the + major and his two companions,” cried the stalwart grenadier, who swung his + sabre, stopped the departure, and forced the men to stand closer in spite + of furious outcries. + </p> + <p> + “I shall fall,”—“I am falling,”—“Push off! push off!—Forward!” + resounded on all sides. + </p> + <p> + The major looked with haggard eyes at Stephanie, who lifted hers to heaven + with a feeling of sublime resignation. + </p> + <p> + “To die with thee!” she said. + </p> + <p> + There was something even comical in the position of the men in possession + of the raft. Though they were uttering awful groans and imprecations, they + dared not resist the grenadier, for in truth they were so closely packed + together, that a push to one man might send half of them overboard. This + danger was so pressing that a cavalry captain endeavored to get rid of the + grenadier; but the latter, seeing the hostile movement of the officer, + seized him round the waist and flung him into the water, crying out,— + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ha! my duck, do you want to drink? Well, then, drink!—Here are + two places,” he cried. “Come, major, toss me the little woman and follow + yourself. Leave that old fossil, who’ll be dead by to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste!” cried the voice of all, as one man. + </p> + <p> + “Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do so.” + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed himself in his + general’s uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Let us save the count,” said Philippe. + </p> + <p> + Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his breast, she + clasped him tightly. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” she said. + </p> + <p> + They had understood each other. + </p> + <p> + The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and presence of mind + to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, after turning a + last look to Philippe. + </p> + <p> + “Major! will you take my place? I don’t care a fig for life,” cried the + grenadier. “I’ve neither wife nor child nor mother.” + </p> + <p> + “I confide them to your care,” said the major, pointing to the count and + his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Then be easy; I’ll care for them, as though they were my very eyes.” + </p> + <p> + The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the opposite side + of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt by all. The + count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and fell into the + river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and cut off his head, + flinging it to a great distance. + </p> + <p> + “See there! major!” cried the grenadier. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu!” said a woman’s voice. + </p> + <p> + Philippe de Sucy fell to the ground, overcome with horror and fatigue. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE CURE + </h2> + <p> + “My poor niece became insane,” continued the physician, after a few + moment’s silence. “Ah! monsieur,” he said, seizing the marquis’s hand, + “life has been awful indeed for that poor little woman, so young, so + delicate! After being, by dreadful fatality, separated from the grenadier, + whose name was Fleuriot, she was dragged about for two years at the heels + of the army, the plaything of a crowd of wretches. She was often, they + tell me, barefooted, and scarcely clothed; for months together, she had no + care, no food but what she could pick up; sometimes kept in hospitals, + sometimes driven away like an animal, God alone knows the horrors that + poor unfortunate creature has survived. She was locked up in a madhouse, + in a little town in Germany, at the time her relatives, thinking her dead, + divided her property. In 1816, the grenadier Fleuriot was at an inn in + Strasburg, where she went after making her escape from the madhouse. + Several peasants told the grenadier that she had lived for a whole month + in the forest, where they had tracked her in vain, trying to catch her, + but she had always escaped them. I was then staying a few miles from + Strasburg. Hearing much talk of a wild woman caught in the woods, I felt a + desire to ascertain the truth of the ridiculous stories which were current + about her. What were my feelings on beholding my own niece! Fleuriot told + me all he knew of her dreadful history. I took the poor man with my niece + back to my home in Auvergne, where, unfortunately, I lost him some months + later. He had some slight control over Madame de Vandieres; he alone could + induce her to wear clothing. ‘Adieu,’ that word, which is her only + language, she seldom uttered at that time. Fleuriot had endeavored to + awaken in her a few ideas, a few memories of the past; but he failed; all + that he gained was to make her say that melancholy word a little oftener. + Still, the grenadier knew how to amuse her and play with her; my hope was + in him, but—” + </p> + <p> + He was silent for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” he continued, “she has found another creature, with whom she seems + to have some strange understanding. It is a poor idiotic peasant-girl, + who, in spite of her ugliness and stupidity, loved a man, a mason. The + mason was willing to marry her, as she had some property. Poor Genevieve + was happy for a year; she dressed in her best to dance with her lover on + Sunday; she comprehended love; in her heart and soul there was room for + that one sentiment. But the mason, Dallot, reflected. He found a girl with + all her senses, and more land than Genevieve, and he deserted the poor + creature. Since then she has lost the little intellect that love developed + in her; she can do nothing but watch the cows, or help at harvesting. My + niece and this poor girl are friends, apparently by some invisible chain + of their common destiny, by the sentiment in each which has caused their + madness. See!” added Stephanie’s uncle, leading the marquis to a window. + </p> + <p> + The latter then saw the countess seated on the ground between Genevieve’s + legs. The peasant-girl, armed with a huge horn comb, was giving her whole + attention to the work of disentangling the long black hair of the poor + countess, who was uttering little stifled cries, expressive of some + instinctive sense of pleasure. Monsieur d’Albon shuddered as he saw the + utter abandonment of the body, the careless animal ease which revealed in + the hapless woman a total absence of soul. + </p> + <p> + “Philippe, Philippe!” he muttered, “the past horrors are nothing!—Is + there no hope?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The old physician raised his eyes to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, monsieur,” said the marquis, pressing his hand. “My friend is + expecting me. He will soon come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it was really she!” cried de Sucy at d’Albon’s first words. “Ah! I + still doubted it,” he added, a few tears falling from his eyes, which were + habitually stern. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is the Comtesse de Vandieres,” replied the marquis. + </p> + <p> + The colonel rose abruptly from his bed and began to dress. + </p> + <p> + “Philippe!” cried his friend, “are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + “I am no longer ill,” replied the colonel, simply. “This news has quieted + my suffering. What pain can I feel when I think of Stephanie? I am going + to the Bons-Hommes, to see her, speak to her, cure her. She is free. Well, + happiness will smile upon us—or Providence is not in this world. + Think you that that poor woman could hear my voice and not recover + reason?” + </p> + <p> + “She has already seen you and not recognized you,” said his friend, + gently, for he felt the danger of Philippe’s excited hopes, and tried to + cast a salutary doubt upon them. + </p> + <p> + The colonel quivered; then he smiled, and made a motion of incredulity. No + one dared to oppose his wish, and within a very short time he reached the + old priory. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he cried, on arriving. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said her uncle, “she is sleeping. See, here she is.” + </p> + <p> + Philippe then saw the poor insane creature lying on a bench in the sun. + Her head was protected from the heat by a forest of hair which fell in + tangled locks over her face. Her arms hung gracefully to the ground; her + body lay easily posed like that of a doe; her feet were folded under her + without effort; her bosom rose and fell at regular intervals; her skin, + her complexion, had that porcelain whiteness, which we admire so much in + the clear transparent faces of children. Standing motionless beside her, + Genevieve held in her hand a branch which Stephanie had doubtless climbed + a tall poplar to obtain, and the poor idiot was gently waving it above her + sleeping companion, to chase away the flies and cool the atmosphere. + </p> + <p> + The peasant-woman gazed at Monsieur Fanjat and the colonel; then, like an + animal which recognizes its master, she turned her head slowly to the + countess, and continued to watch her, without giving any sign of surprise + or intelligence. The air was stifling; the stone bench glittered in the + sunlight; the meadow exhaled to heaven those impish vapors which dance and + dart above the herbage like silvery dust; but Genevieve seemed not to feel + this all-consuming heat. + </p> + <p> + The colonel pressed the hand of the doctor violently in his own. Tears + rolled from his eyes along his manly cheeks, and fell to the earth at the + feet of his Stephanie. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the uncle, “for two years past, my heart is broken day by + day. Soon you will be like me. You may not always weep, but you will + always feel your sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + The two men understood each other; and again, pressing each other’s hands, + they remained motionless, contemplating the exquisite calmness which sleep + had cast upon that graceful creature. From time to time she gave a sigh, + and that sigh, which had all the semblance of sensibilities, made the + unhappy colonel tremble with hope. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” said Monsieur Fanjat, “do not deceive yourself, monsieur; there is + no meaning in her sigh.” + </p> + <p> + Those who have ever watched for hours with delight the sleep of one who is + tenderly beloved, whose eyes will smile to them at waking, can understand + the sweet yet terrible emotion that shook the colonel’s soul. To him, this + sleep was an illusion; the waking might be death, death in its most awful + form. Suddenly, a little goat jumped in three bounds to the bench, and + smelt at Stephanie, who waked at the sound. She sprang to her feet, but so + lightly that the movement did not frighten the freakish animal; then she + caught sight of Philippe, and darted away, followed by her four-footed + friend, to a hedge of elders; there she uttered the same little cry like a + frightened bird, which the two men had heard near the other gate. Then she + climbed an acacia, and nestling into its tufted top, she watched the + stranger with the inquisitive attention of the forest birds. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, adieu, adieu,” she said, without the soul communicating one single + intelligent inflexion to the word. + </p> + <p> + It was uttered impassively, as the bird sings his note. + </p> + <p> + “She does not recognize me!” cried the colonel, in despair. “Stephanie! it + is Philippe, thy Philippe, PHILIPPE!” + </p> + <p> + And the poor soldier went to the acacia; but when he was a few steps from + it, the countess looked at him, as if defying him, although a slight + expression of fear seemed to flicker in her eye; then, with a single bound + she sprang from the acacia to a laburnum, and thence to a Norway fir, + where she darted from branch to branch with extraordinary agility. + </p> + <p> + “Do not pursue her,” said Monsieur Fanjat to the colonel, “or you will + arouse an aversion which might become insurmountable. I will help you to + tame her and make her come to you. Let us sit on this bench. If you pay no + attention to her, she will come of her own accord to examine you.” + </p> + <p> + “SHE! not to know me! to flee me!” repeated the colonel, seating himself + on a bench with his back to a tree that shaded it, and letting his head + fall upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + The doctor said nothing. Presently, the countess came gently down the + fir-tree, letting herself swing easily on the branches, as the wind swayed + them. At each branch she stopped to examine the stranger; but seeing him + motionless, she at last sprang to the ground and came slowly towards him + across the grass. When she reached a tree about ten feet distant, against + which she leaned, Monsieur Fanjat said to the colonel in a low voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Take out, adroitly, from my right hand pocket some lumps of sugar you + will feel there. Show them to her, and she will come to us. I will + renounce in your favor my sole means of giving her pleasure. With sugar, + which she passionately loves, you will accustom her to approach you, and + to know you again.” + </p> + <p> + “When she was a woman,” said Philippe, sadly, “she had no taste for sweet + things.” + </p> + <p> + When the colonel showed her the lump of sugar, holding it between the + thumb and forefinger of his right hand, she again uttered her little wild + cry, and sprang toward him; then she stopped, struggling against the + instinctive fear he caused her; she looked at the sugar and turned away + her head alternately, precisely like a dog whose master forbids him to + touch his food until he has said a letter of the alphabet which he slowly + repeats. At last the animal desire triumphed over fear. Stephanie darted + to Philippe, cautiously putting out her little brown hand to seize the + prize, touched the fingers of her poor lover as she snatched the sugar, + and fled away among the trees. This dreadful scene overcame the colonel; + he burst into tears and rushed into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Has love less courage than friendship?” Monsieur Fanjat said to him. “I + have some hope, Monsieur le baron. My poor niece was in a far worse state + than that in which you now find her.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that possible?” cried Philippe. + </p> + <p> + “She went naked,” replied the doctor. + </p> + <p> + The colonel made a gesture of horror and turned pale. The doctor saw in + that sudden pallor alarming symptoms; he felt the colonel’s pulse, found + him in a violent fever, and half persuaded, half compelled him to go to + bed. Then he gave him a dose of opium to ensure a calm sleep. + </p> + <p> + Eight days elapsed, during which Colonel de Sucy struggled against mortal + agony; tears no longer came to his eyes. His soul, often lacerated, could + not harden itself to the sight of Stephanie’s insanity; but he covenanted, + so to speak, with his cruel situation, and found some assuaging of his + sorrow. He had the courage to slowly tame the countess by bringing her + sweetmeats; he took such pains in choosing them, and he learned so well + how to keep the little conquests he sought to make upon her instincts—that + last shred of her intellect—that he ended by making her much TAMER + than she had ever been. + </p> + <p> + Every morning he went into the park, and if, after searching for her long, + he could not discover on what tree she was swaying, nor the covert in + which she crouched to play with a bird, nor the roof on which she might + have clambered, he would whistle the well-known air of “Partant pour la + Syrie,” to which some tender memory of their love attached. Instantly, + Stephanie would run to him with the lightness of a fawn. She was now so + accustomed to see him, that he frightened her no longer. Soon she was + willing to sit upon his knee, and clasp him closely with her thin and + agile arm. In that attitude—so dear to lovers!—Philippe would + feed her with sugarplums. Then, having eaten those that he gave her, she + would often search his pockets with gestures that had all the mechanical + velocity of a monkey’s motions. When she was very sure there was nothing + more, she looked at Philippe with clear eyes, without ideas, with + recognition. Then she would play with him, trying at times to take off his + boots to see his feet, tearing his gloves, putting on his hat; she would + even let him pass his hands through her hair, and take her in his arms; + she accepted, but without pleasure, his ardent kisses. She would look at + him silently, without emotion, when his tears flowed; but she always + understood his “Partant pour la Syrie,” when he whistled it, though he + never succeeded in teaching her to say her own name Stephanie. + </p> + <p> + Philippe was sustained in his agonizing enterprise by hope, which never + abandoned him. When, on fine autumn mornings, he found the countess + sitting peacefully on a bench, beneath a poplar now yellowing, the poor + lover would sit at her feet, looking into her eyes as long as she would + let him, hoping ever that the light that was in them would become + intelligent. Sometimes the thought deluded him that he saw those hard + immovable rays softening, vibrating, living, and he cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “Stephanie! Stephanie! thou hearest me, thou seest me!” + </p> + <p> + But she listened to that cry as to a noise, the soughing of the wind in + the tree-tops, or the lowing of the cow on the back of which she climbed. + Then the colonel would wring his hands in despair,—despair that was + new each day. + </p> + <p> + One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of that rural + haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel was loading his + pistols. The old man felt then that the young man had ceased to hope; he + felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if he conquered the vertigo that + threatened him, it was because he would rather see his niece living and + mad than dead. He hastened up. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “That is for me,” replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol already + loaded, which was lying on the bench; “and this is for her,” he added, as + he forced the wad into the weapon he held. + </p> + <p> + The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with the balls. + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not know,” said the doctor, coldly, concealing his terror, + “that in her sleep last night she called you: Philippe!” + </p> + <p> + “She called me!” cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which Stephanie + picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that was on the + bench, and rushed away. + </p> + <p> + “Poor darling!” said the doctor, happy in the success of his lie. He + pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking to + himself: “He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he suffers. He + does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do we not? He is + mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. No, God alone should + call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we pity thee because thou canst + not share our sorrows, fools that we are!—But,” he said, sitting + down and taking her on his knee, “nothing troubles thee; thy life is like + that of a bird, of a fawn—” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was hopping near them, + caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled it, looked at it, + dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of a tree without a + thought. + </p> + <p> + The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down into the + gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,—he believed in the coming + happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to him, he + took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first time, and he + led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of which was dropping + to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own accord Stephanie placed + herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with joy. + </p> + <p> + “Love,” he said, kissing her hands passionately, “I am Philippe.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, pressing her to him, “dost thou feel my heart? It has + beaten for thee alone. I love thee ever. Philippe is not dead; he is not + dead, thou art on him, in his arms. Thou art MY Stephanie; I am thy + Philippe.” + </p> + <p> + “Adieu,” she said, “adieu.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel quivered, for he fancied he saw his own excitement + communicated to his mistress. His heart-rending cry, drawn from him by + despair, that last effort of an eternal love, of a delirious passion, was + successful, the mind of his darling was awaking. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Stephanie! Stephanie! we shall yet be happy.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a cry of satisfaction, and her eyes brightened with a flash of + vague intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “She knows me!—Stephanie!” + </p> + <p> + His heart swelled; his eyelids were wet with tears. Then, suddenly, the + countess showed him a bit of sugar she had found in his pocket while he + was speaking to her. He had mistaken for human thought the amount of + reason required for a monkey’s trick. Philippe dropped to the ground + unconscious. Monsieur Fanjat found the countess sitting on the colonel’s + body. She was biting her sugar, and testifying her pleasure by pretty + gestures and affectations with which, had she her reason, she might have + imitated her parrot or her cat. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! my friend,” said Philippe, when he came to his senses, “I die every + day, every moment! I love too well! I could still bear all, if, in her + madness, she had kept her woman’s nature. But to see her always a savage, + devoid even of modesty, to see her—” + </p> + <p> + “You want opera madness, do you? something picturesque and pleasing,” said + the doctor, bitterly. “Your love and your devotion yield before a + prejudice. Monsieur, I have deprived myself for your sake of the sad + happiness of watching over my niece; I have left to you the pleasure of + playing with her; I have kept for myself the heaviest cares. While you + have slept, I have watched, I have—Go, monsieur, go! abandon her! + leave this sad refuge. I know how to live with that dear darling creature; + I comprehend her madness, I watch her gestures, I know her secrets. Some + day you will thank me for thus sending you away.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel left the old monastery, never to return but once. The doctor + was horrified when he saw the effect he had produced upon his guest, whom + he now began to love when he saw him thus. Surely, if either of the two + lovers were worthy of pity, it was Philippe; did he not bear alone the + burden of their dreadful sorrow? + </p> + <p> + After the colonel’s departure the doctor kept himself informed about him; + he learned that the miserable man was living on an estate near + Saint-Germain. In truth, the baron, on the faith of a dream, had formed a + project which he believed would yet restore the mind of his darling. + Unknown to the doctor, he spent the rest of the autumn in preparing for + his enterprise. A little river flowed through his park and inundated + during the winter the marshes on either side of it, giving it some + resemblance to the Beresina. The village of Satout, on the heights above, + closed in, like Studzianka, the scene of horror. The colonel collected + workmen to deepen the banks, and by the help of his memory, he copied in + his park the shore where General Eble destroyed the bridge. He planted + piles, and made buttresses and burned them, leaving their charred and + blackened ruins, standing in the water from shore to shore. Then he + gathered fragments of all kinds, like those of which the raft was built. + He ordered dilapidated uniforms and clothing of every grade, and hired + hundreds of peasants to wear them; he erected huts and cabins for the + purpose of burning them. In short, he forgot nothing that might recall + that most awful of all scenes, and he succeeded. + </p> + <p> + Toward the last of December, when the snow had covered with its thick, + white mantle all his imitative preparations, he recognized the Beresina. + This false Russia was so terribly truthful, that several of his army + comrades recognized the scene of their past misery at once. Monsieur de + Sucy took care to keep secret the motive for this tragic imitation, which + was talked of in several Parisian circles as a proof of insanity. + </p> + <p> + Early in January, 1820, the colonel drove in a carriage, the very + counterpart of the one in which he had driven the Comte and Comtesse de + Vandieres from Moscow to Studzianka. The horses, too, were like those he + had gone, at the peril of his life, to fetch from the Russian outposts. He + himself wore the soiled fantastic clothing, the same weapons, as on the + 29th of November, 1812. He had let his beard grow, also his hair, which + was tangled and matted, and his face was neglected, so that nothing might + be wanting to represent the awful truth. + </p> + <p> + “I can guess your purpose,” cried Monsieur Fanjat, when he saw the colonel + getting out of the carriage. “If you want to succeed, do not let my niece + see you in that equipage. To-night I will give her opium. During her + sleep, we will dress her as she was at Studzianka, and place her in the + carriage. I will follow you in another vehicle.” + </p> + <p> + About two in the morning, the sleeping countess was placed in the carriage + and wrapped in heavy coverings. A few peasants with torches lighted up + this strange abduction. Suddenly, a piercing cry broke the silence of the + night. Philippe and the doctor turned, and saw Genevieve coming half-naked + from the ground-floor room in which she slept. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, adieu! all is over, adieu!” she cried, weeping hot tears. + </p> + <p> + “Genevieve, what troubles you?” asked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve shook her head with a motion of despair, raised her arm to + heaven, looked at the carriage, uttering a long-drawn moan with every sign + of the utmost terror; then she returned to her room silently. + </p> + <p> + “That is a good omen!” cried the colonel. “She feels she is to lose her + companion. Perhaps she SEES that Stephanie will recover her reason.” + </p> + <p> + “God grant it!” said Monsieur Fanjat, who himself was affected by the + incident. + </p> + <p> + Ever since he had made a close study of insanity, the good man had met + with many examples of the prophetic faculty and the gift of second sight, + proofs of which are frequently given by alienated minds, and which may + also be found, so travellers say, among certain tribes of savages. + </p> + <p> + As the colonel had calculated, Stephanie crossed the fictitious plain of + the Beresina at nine o’clock in the morning, when she was awakened by a + cannon shot not a hundred yards from the spot where the experiment was to + be tried. This was a signal. Hundreds of peasants made a frightful clamor + like that on the shore of the river that memorable night, when twenty + thousand stragglers were doomed to death or slavery by their own folly. + </p> + <p> + At the cry, at the shot, the countess sprang from the carriage, and ran, + with delirious emotion, over the snow to the banks of the river; she saw + the burned bivouacs and the charred remains of the bridge, and the fatal + raft, which the men were launching into the icy waters of the Beresina. + The major, Philippe, was there, striking back the crowd with his sabre. + Madame de Vandieres gave a cry, which went to all hearts, and threw + herself before the colonel, whose heart beat wildly. She seemed to gather + herself together, and, at first, looked vaguely at the singular scene. For + an instant, as rapid as the lightning’s flash, her eyes had that lucidity, + devoid of mind, which we admire in the eye of birds; then passing her hand + across her brow with the keen expression of one who meditates, she + contemplated the living memory of a past scene spread before her, and, + turning quickly to Philippe, she SAW HIM. An awful silence reigned in the + crowd. The colonel gasped, but dared not speak; the doctor wept. + Stephanie’s sweet face colored faintly; then, from tint to tint, it + returned to the brightness of youth, till it glowed with a beautiful + crimson. Life and happiness, lighted by intelligence, came nearer and + nearer like a conflagration. Convulsive trembling rose from her feet to + her heart. Then these phenomena seemed to blend in one as Stephanie’s eyes + cast forth a celestial ray, the flame of a living soul. She lived, she + thought! She shuddered, with fear perhaps, for God himself unloosed that + silent tongue, and cast anew His fires into that long-extinguished soul. + Human will came with its full electric torrent, and vivified the body from + which it had been driven. + </p> + <p> + “Stephanie!” cried the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it is Philippe,” said the poor countess. + </p> + <p> + She threw herself into the trembling arms that the colonel held out to + her, and the clasp of the lovers frightened the spectators. Stephanie + burst into tears. Suddenly her tears stopped, she stiffened as though the + lightning had touched her, and said in a feeble voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Adieu, Philippe; I love thee, adieu!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she is dead,” cried the colonel, opening his arms. + </p> + <p> + The old doctor received the inanimate body of his niece, kissed it as + though he were a young man, and carrying it aside, sat down with it still + in his arms on a pile of wood. He looked at the countess and placed his + feeble trembling hand upon her heart. That heart no longer beat. + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” he said, looking up at the colonel, who stood motionless, + and then at Stephanie, on whom death was placing that resplendent beauty, + that fugitive halo, which is, perhaps, a pledge of the glorious future—“Yes, + she is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that smile,” cried Philippe, “do you see that smile? Can it be true?” + </p> + <p> + “She is turning cold,” replied Monsieur Fanjat. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Sucy made a few steps to tear himself away from the sight; but + he stopped, whistled the air that Stephanie had known, and when she did + not come to him, went on with staggering steps like a drunken man, still + whistling, but never turning back. + </p> + <p> + General Philippe de Sucy was thought in the social world to be a very + agreeable man, and above all a very gay one. A few days ago, a lady + complimented him on his good humor, and the charming equability of his + nature. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! madame,” he said, “I pay dear for my liveliness in my lonely + evenings.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you ever alone?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied smiling. + </p> + <p> + If a judicious observer of human nature could have seen at that moment the + expression on the Comte de Sucy’s face, he would perhaps have shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you marry?” said the lady, who had several daughters at school. + “You are rich, titled, and of ancient lineage; you have talents, and a + great future before you; all things smile upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “but a smile kills me.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the lady heard with great astonishment that Monsieur de Sucy + had blown his brains out during the night. The upper ranks of society + talked in various ways over this extraordinary event, and each person + looked for the cause of it. According to the proclivities of each + reasoner, play, love, ambition, hidden disorders, and vices, explained the + catastrophe, the last scene of a drama begun in 1812. Two men alone, a + marquis and former deputy, and an aged physician, knew that Philippe de + Sucy was one of those strong men to whom God has given the unhappy power + of issuing daily in triumph from awful combats which they fight with an + unseen monster. If, for a moment, God withdraws from such men His + all-powerful hand, they succumb. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personage appears in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> + <p> + Note: Adieu is also entitled Farewell. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Granville, Vicomte de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Second Home + Farewell (Adieu) + Cesar Birotteau + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + A Daughter of Eve + Cousin Pons +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + +***** This file should be named 1554-h.htm or 1554-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/5/1554/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Adieu + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Translator: Katharine Prescott Wormeley + +Release Date: December, 1998 [Etext #1554] +Posting Date: February 26, 2010 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + +ADIEU + + +By Honore De Balzac + + + +Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + DEDICATION + + To Prince Frederic Schwartzenburg + + + + + + +ADIEU + + + + +CHAPTER I. AN OLD MONASTERY + + +"Come, deputy of the Centre, forward! Quick step! march! if we want to +be in time to dine with the others. Jump, marquis! there, that's right! +why, you can skip across a stubble-field like a deer!" + +These words were said by a huntsman peacefully seated at the edge of the +forest of Ile-Adam, who was finishing an Havana cigar while waiting for +his companion, who had lost his way in the tangled underbrush of the +wood. At his side four panting dogs were watching, as he did, the +personage he addressed. To understand how sarcastic were these +exhortations, repeated at intervals, we should state that the +approaching huntsman was a stout little man whose protuberant stomach +was the evidence of a truly ministerial "embonpoint." He was struggling +painfully across the furrows of a vast wheat-field recently harvested, +the stubble of which considerably impeded him; while to add to his other +miseries the sun's rays, striking obliquely on his face, collected an +abundance of drops of perspiration. Absorbed in the effort to maintain +his equilibrium, he leaned, now forward, now back, in close imitation +of the pitching of a carriage when violently jolted. The weather looked +threatening. Though several spaces of blue sky still parted the thick +black clouds toward the horizon, a flock of fleecy vapors were advancing +with great rapidity and drawing a light gray curtain from east to +west. As the wind was acting only on the upper region of the air, the +atmosphere below it pressed down the hot vapors of the earth. Surrounded +by masses of tall trees, the valley through which the hunter struggled +felt like a furnace. Parched and silent, the forest seemed thirsty. The +birds, even the insects, were voiceless; the tree-tops scarcely waved. +Those persons who may still remember the summer of 1819 can imagine the +woes of the poor deputy, who was struggling along, drenched in sweat, +to regain his mocking friend. The latter, while smoking his cigar, had +calculated from the position of the sun that it must be about five in +the afternoon. + +"Where the devil are we?" said the stout huntsman, mopping his +forehead and leaning against the trunk of a tree nearly opposite to +his companion, for he felt unequal to the effort of leaping the ditch +between them. + +"That's for me to ask you," said the other, laughing, as he lay among +the tall brown brake which crowned the bank. Then, throwing the end of +his cigar into the ditch, he cried out vehemently: "I swear by Saint +Hubert that never again will I trust myself in unknown territory with a +statesman, though he be, like you, my dear d'Albon, a college mate." + +"But, Philippe, have you forgotten your French? Or have you left your +wits in Siberia?" replied the stout man, casting a sorrowfully comic +look at a sign-post about a hundred feet away. + +"True, true," cried Philippe, seizing his gun and springing with a bound +into the field and thence to the post. "This way, d'Albon, this way," +he called back to his friend, pointing to a broad paved path and reading +aloud the sign: "'From Baillet to Ile-Adam.' We shall certainly find +the path to Cassan, which must branch from this one between here and +Ile-Adam." + +"You are right, colonel," said Monsieur d'Albon, replacing upon his head +the cap with which he had been fanning himself. + +"Forward then, my respectable privy councillor," replied Colonel +Philippe, whistling to the dogs, who seemed more willing to obey him +than the public functionary to whom they belonged. + +"Are you aware, marquis," said the jeering soldier, "that we still have +six miles to go? That village over there must be Baillet." + +"Good heavens!" cried the marquis, "go to Cassan if you must, but you'll +go alone. I prefer to stay here, in spite of the coming storm, and +wait for the horse you can send me from the chateau. You've played me a +trick, Sucy. We were to have had a nice little hunt not far from Cassan, +and beaten the coverts I know. Instead of that, you have kept me running +like a hare since four o'clock this morning, and all I've had for +breakfast is a cup of milk. Now, if you ever have a petition before the +Court, I'll make you lose it, however just your claim." + +The poor discouraged huntsman sat down on a stone that supported the +signpost, relieved himself of his gun and his gamebag, and heaved a long +sigh. + +"France! such are thy deputies!" exclaimed Colonel de Sucy, laughing. +"Ah! my poor d'Albon, if you had been like me six years in the wilds of +Siberia--" + +He said no more, but he raised his eyes to heaven as if that anguish +were between himself and God. + +"Come, march on!" he added. "If you sit still you are lost." + +"How can I, Philippe? It is an old magisterial habit to sit still. On my +honor! I'm tired out--If I had only killed a hare!" + +The two men presented a rather rare contrast: the public functionary +was forty-two years of age and seemed no more than thirty, whereas the +soldier was thirty, and seemed forty at the least. Both wore the red +rosette of the officers of the Legion of honor. A few spare locks of +black hair mixed with white, like the wing of a magpie, escaped from +the colonel's cap, while handsome brown curls adorned the brow of the +statesman. One was tall, gallant, high-strung, and the lines of his +pallid face showed terrible passions or frightful griefs. The other +had a face that was brilliant with health, and jovially worth of an +epicurean. Both were deeply sun-burned, and their high gaiters of tanned +leather showed signs of the bogs and the thickets they had just come +through. + +"Come," said Monsieur de Sucy, "let us get on. A short hour's march, and +we shall reach Cassan in time for a good dinner." + +"It is easy to see you have never loved," replied the councillor, with a +look that was pitifully comic; "you are as relentless as article 304 of +the penal code." + +Philippe de Sucy quivered; his broad brow contracted; his face became +as sombre as the skies above them. Some memory of awful bitterness +distorted for a moment his features, but he said nothing. Like all +strong men, he drove down his emotions to the depths of his heart; +thinking perhaps, as simple characters are apt to think, that there was +something immodest in unveiling griefs when human language cannot +render their depths and may only rouse the mockery of those who do not +comprehend them. Monsieur d'Albon had one of those delicate natures +which divine sorrows, and are instantly sympathetic to the emotion they +have involuntarily aroused. He respected his friend's silence, rose, +forgot his fatigue, and followed him silently, grieved to have touched a +wound that was evidently not healed. + +"Some day, my friend," said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking +him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, "I will relate to +you my life. To-day I cannot." + +They continued their way in silence. When the colonel's pain seemed +soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or +rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of the +forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching paths, +hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask hospitality. +Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight smoke rising +among the trees; he stopped, looked more attentively, and saw, in the +midst of a vast copse, the dark-green branches of several pine-trees. + +"A house! a house!" he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in crying +"Land!" + +Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who had fallen +into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically. + +"I'd rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair here," he +said, "than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux." + +These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from the +councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of which +glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree trunks. + +"Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory," cried the +marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through which +they could see, in the midst of a large park, a building constructed in +the style of the monasteries of old. "How those rascals the monks knew +how to choose their sites!" + +This last exclamation was an expression of surprise and pleasure at the +poetical hermitage which met his eyes. The house stood on the slope of +the mountain, at the summit of which is the village of Nerville. The +great centennial oaks of the forest which encircled the dwelling made +the place an absolute solitude. The main building, formerly occupied by +the monks, faced south. The park seemed to have about forty acres. +Near the house lay a succession of green meadows, charmingly crossed by +several clear rivulets, with here and there a piece of water naturally +placed without the least apparent artifice. Trees of elegant shape and +varied foliage were distributed about. Grottos, cleverly managed, and +massive terraces with dilapidated steps and rusty railings, gave +a peculiar character to this lone retreat. Art had harmonized her +constructions with the picturesque effects of nature. Human passions +seemed to die at the feet of those great trees, which guarded this +asylum from the tumult of the world as they shaded it from the fires of +the sun. + +"How desolate!" thought Monsieur d'Albon, observing the sombre +expression which the ancient building gave to the landscape, gloomy as +though a curse were on it. It seemed a fatal spot deserted by man. Ivy +had stretched its tortuous muscles, covered by its rich green mantle, +everywhere. Brown or green, red or yellow mosses and lichen spread their +romantic tints on trees and seats and roofs and stones. The crumbling +window-casings were hollowed by rain, defaced by time; the balconies +were broken, the terraces demolished. Some of the outside shutters hung +from a single hinge. The rotten doors seemed quite unable to resist an +assailant. Covered with shining tufts of mistletoe, the branches of the +neglected fruit-trees gave no sign of fruit. Grass grew in the paths. +Such ruin and desolation cast a weird poesy on the scene, filling the +souls of the spectators with dreamy thoughts. A poet would have stood +there long, plunged in a melancholy reverie, admiring this disorder +so full of harmony, this destruction which was not without its grace. +Suddenly, the brown tiles shone, the mosses glittered, fantastic shadows +danced upon the meadows and beneath the trees; fading colors revived; +striking contrasts developed, the foliage of the trees and shrubs +defined itself more clearly in the light. Then--the light went out. The +landscape seemed to have spoken, and now was silent, returning to its +gloom, or rather to the soft sad tones of an autumnal twilight. + +"It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty," said the marquis, beginning +to view the house with the eyes of a land owner. "I wonder to whom it +belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an exquisite +spot." + +At that instant a woman sprang from beneath a chestnut-tree standing to +the right of the gate, and, without making any noise, passed before the +marquis as rapidly as the shadow of a cloud. This vision made him mute +with surprise. + +"Why, Albon, what's the matter?" asked the colonel. + +"I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake," replied the +marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to get +another sight of the phantom. + +"She must be beneath that fig-tree," he said, pointing to the foliage of +a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate. + +"She! who?" + +"How can I tell?" replied Monsieur d'Albon. "A strange woman rose up +there, just before me," he said in a low voice; "she seemed to come from +the world of shades rather than from the land of the living. She is so +slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her face was as +white as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. She looked +at me as she flitted by, and though I may say I'm no coward, that cold +immovable look froze the blood in my veins." + +"Is she pretty?" asked Philippe. + +"I don't know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that face." + +"Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!" cried the colonel. +"Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter that +singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and the red +lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn't the place look to you as if it +belonged to the devil?--perhaps he inherited it from the monks. Come, +let us pursue the black and white lady--forward, march!" cried Philippe, +with forced gaiety. + +At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was something like +that of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a few +shrubs sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking wave. In +vain they listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and kept the +secret of those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved at all. + +"It is very singular!" said Philippe, as they skirted the park wall. + +The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which led to the +village of Chauvry. After following this path some way toward the main +road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to the principal +facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side the dilapidation and +disorder of the premises had reached their height. Immense cracks +furrowed the walls of the house, which was built on three sides of +a square. Fragments of tiles and slates lying on the ground, and the +dilapidated condition of the roofs, were evidence of a total want of +care on the part of the owners. The fruit had fallen from the trees and +lay rotting on the ground; a cow was feeding on the lawn and treading +down the flowers in the borders, while a goat browsed on the shoots of +the vines and munched the unripe grapes. + +"Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized," said the +colonel, pulling the chain of a bell; but the bell was without a +clapper. + +The huntsmen heard nothing but the curiously sharp noise of a rusty +spring. Though very dilapidated, a little door made in the wall beside +the iron gates resisted all their efforts to open it. + +"Well, well, this is getting to be exciting," said de Sucy to his +companion. + +"If I were not a magistrate," replied Monsieur d'Albon, "I should think +that woman was a witch." + +As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed her warm +muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing human beings. +Then a woman, if that name could be applied to the indefinable being who +suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away the cow by its rope. +This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, beneath which trailed +long locks of hair in color and shape like the flax on a distaff. She +wore no fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black and gray stripes, too +short by several inches, exposed her legs. She might have belonged to +some tribe of Red-Skins described by Cooper, for her legs, neck, and +arms were the color of brick. No ray of intelligence enlivened her +vacant face. A few whitish hairs served her for eyebrows; the eyes +themselves, of a dull blue, were cold and wan; and her mouth was so +formed as to show the teeth, which were crooked, but as white as those +of a dog. + +"Here, my good woman!" called Monsieur de Sucy. + +She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly expression at the +two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful smile to +her face. + +"Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong here?" + +To these questions and several others which the two friends alternately +addressed to her, she answered only with guttural sounds that seemed +more like the growl of an animal than the voice of a human being. + +"She must be deaf and dumb," said the marquis. + +"Bons-Hommes!" cried the peasant woman. + +"Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the Bons-Hommes," +said the marquis. + +He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the peasant +woman colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of the +cow, which was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two hunters, +examining every part of their clothing; then she yelped, growled, and +clucked, but did not speak. + +"What is your name?" said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as if he +meant to mesmerize her. + +"Genevieve," she said, laughing with a silly air. + +"The cow is the most intelligent being we have seen so far," said the +marquis. "I shall fire my gun and see if that will being some one." + +Just as d'Albon raised his gun, the colonel stopped him with a gesture, +and pointed to the form of a woman, probably the one who had so keenly +piqued his curiosity. At this moment she seemed lost in the deepest +meditation, and was coming with slow steps along a distant pathway, so +that the two friends had ample time to examine her. + +She was dressed in a ragged gown of black satin. Her long hair fell in +masses of curls over her forehead, around her shoulders, and below her +waist, serving her for a shawl. Accustomed no doubt to this disorder, +she seldom pushed her hair from her forehead; and when she did so, it +was with a sudden toss of her head which only for a moment cleared her +forehead and eyes from the thick veil. Her gesture, like that of an +animal, had a remarkable mechanical precision, the quickness of which +seemed wonderful in a woman. The huntsmen were amazed to see her +suddenly leap up on the branch of an apple-tree, and sit there with the +ease of a bird. She gathered an apple and ate it; then she dropped to +the ground with the graceful ease we admire in a squirrel. Her limbs +possessed an elasticity which took from every movement the slightest +appearance of effort or constraint. She played upon the turf, rolling +herself about like a child; then, suddenly, she flung her feet and hands +forward, and lay at full length on the grass, with the grace and natural +ease of a young cat asleep in the sun. Thunder sounded in the distance, +and she turned suddenly, rising on her hands and knees with the rapidity +of a dog which hears a coming footstep. + +The effects of this singular attitude was to separate into two heavy +masses the volume of her black hair, which now fell on either side of +her head, and allowed the two spectators to admire the white shoulders +glistening like daisies in a field, and the throat, the perfection of +which allowed them to judge of the other beauties of her figure. + +Suddenly she uttered a distressful cry and rose to her feet. Her +movements succeeded each other with such airiness and grace that she +seemed not a creature of this world but a daughter of the atmosphere, as +sung in the poems of Ossian. She ran toward a piece of water, shook one +of her legs lightly to cast off her shoe, and began to dabble her foot, +white as alabaster, in the current, admiring, perhaps, the undulations +she thus produced upon the surface of the water. Then she knelt down at +the edge of the stream and amused herself, like a child, in casting in +her long tresses and pulling them abruptly out, to watch the shower of +drops that glittered down, looking, as the sunlight struck athwart them, +like a chaplet of pearls. + +"That woman is mad!" cried the marquis. + +A hoarse cry, uttered by Genevieve, seemed uttered as a warning to the +unknown woman, who turned suddenly, throwing back her hair from either +side of her face. At this instant the colonel and Monsieur d'Albon could +distinctly see her features; she, herself, perceiving the two friends, +sprang to the iron railing with the lightness and rapidity of a deer. + +"Adieu!" she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, the melody of which did +not convey the slightest feeling or the slightest thought. + +Monsieur d'Albon admired the long lashes of her eyelids, the blackness +of her eyebrows, and the dazzling whiteness of a skin devoid of even the +faintest tinge of color. Tiny blue veins alone broke the uniformity of +its pure white tones. When the marquis turned to his friend as if to +share with him his amazement at the sight of this singular creature, he +found him stretched on the ground as if dead. D'Albon fired his gun +in the air to summon assistance, crying out "Help! help!" and then +endeavored to revive the colonel. At the sound of the shot, the unknown +woman, who had hitherto stood motionless, fled away with the rapidity +of an arrow, uttering cries of fear like a wounded animal, and running +hither and thither about the meadow with every sign of the greatest +terror. + +Monsieur d'Albon, hearing the rumbling of a carriage on the high-road +to Ile-Adam, waved his handkerchief and shouted to its occupants for +assistance. The carriage was immediately driven up to the old monastery, +and the marquis recognized his neighbors, Monsieur and Madame de +Granville, who at once gave up their carriage to the service of the +two gentlemen. Madame de Granville had with her, by chance, a bottle of +salts, which revived the colonel for a moment. When he opened his eyes +he turned them to the meadow, where the unknown woman was still running +and uttering her distressing cries. A smothered exclamation escaped +him, which seemed to express a sense of horror; then he closed his eyes +again, and made a gesture as if to implore his friend to remove him from +that sight. + +Monsieur and Madame de Granville placed their carriage entirely at the +disposal of the marquis, assuring him courteously that they would like +to continue their way on foot. + +"Who is that lady?" asked the marquis, signing toward the unknown woman. + +"I believe she comes from Moulins," replied Monsieur de Granville. "She +is the Comtesse de Vandieres, and they say she is mad; but as she +has only been here two months I will not vouch for the truth of these +hearsays." + +Monsieur d'Albon thanked his friends, and placing the colonel in the +carriage, started with him for Cassan. + +"It is she!" cried Philippe, recovering his senses. + +"Who is she?" asked d'Albon. + +"Stephanie. Ah, dead and living, living and mad! I fancied I was dying." + +The prudent marquis, appreciating the gravity of the crisis through +which his friend was passing, was careful not to question or excite him; +he was only anxious to reach the chateau, for the change which had taken +place in the colonel's features, in fact in his whole person, made him +fear for his friend's reason. As soon, therefore, as the carriage had +reached the main street of Ile-Adam, he dispatched the footman to the +village doctor, so that the colonel was no sooner fairly in his bed at +the chateau than the physician was beside him. + +"If monsieur had not been many hours without food the shock would have +killed him," said the doctor. + +After naming the first precautions, the doctor left the room, to +prepare, himself, a calming potion. The next day, Monsieur de Sucy was +better, but the doctor still watched him carefully. + +"I will admit to you, monsieur le marquis," he said, "that I have feared +some affection of the brain. Monsieur de Sucy has received a violent +shock; his passions are strong; but, in him, the first blow decides all. +To-morrow he may be entirely out of danger." + +The doctor was not mistaken; and the following day he allowed the +marquis to see his friend. + +"My dear d'Albon," said Philippe, pressing his hand, "I am going to ask +a kindness of you. Go to the Bons-Hommes, and find out all you can of +the lady we saw there; and return to me as quickly as you can; I shall +count the minutes." + +Monsieur d'Albon mounted his horse at once, and galloped to the old +abbey. When he arrived there, he saw before the iron gate a tall, spare +man with a very kindly face, who answered in the affirmative when asked +if he lived there. Monsieur d'Albon then informed him of the reasons for +his visit. + +"What! monsieur," said the other, "was it you who fired that fatal shot? +You very nearly killed my poor patient." + +"But, monsieur, I fired in the air." + +"You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at her." + +"Then we must not reproach each other, monsieur, for the sight of the +countess has almost killed my friend, Monsieur de Sucy." + +"Heavens! can you mean Baron Philippe de Sucy?" cried the doctor, +clasping his hands. "Did he go to Russia; was he at the passage of the +Beresina?" + +"Yes," replied d'Albon, "he was captured by the Cossacks and kept for +five years in Siberia; he recovered his liberty a few months ago." + +"Come in, monsieur," said the master of the house, leading the marquis +into a room on the lower floor where everything bore the marks of +capricious destruction. The silken curtains beside the windows were +torn, while those of muslin remained intact. + +"You see," said the tall old man, as they entered, "the ravages +committed by that dear creature, to whom I devote myself. She is my +niece; in spite of the impotence of my art, I hope some day to +restore her reason by attempting a method which can only be employed, +unfortunately, by very rich people." + +Then, like all persons living in solitude who are afflicted with an ever +present and ever renewed grief, he related to the marquis at length the +following narrative, which is here condensed, and relieved of the many +digressions made by both the narrator and the listener. + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA + + +Marechal Victor, when he started, about nine at night, from the +heights of Studzianka, which he had defended, as the rear-guard of the +retreating army, during the whole day of November 28th, 1812, left a +thousand men behind him, with orders to protect to the last possible +moment whichever of the two bridges across the Beresina might still +exist. This rear-guard had devoted itself to the task of saving a +frightful multitude of stragglers overcome by the cold, who obstinately +refused to leave the bivouacs of the army. The heroism of this generous +troop proved useless. The stragglers who flocked in masses to the banks +of the Beresina found there, unhappily, an immense number of carriages, +caissons, and articles of all kinds which the army had been forced to +abandon when effecting its passage of the river on the 27th and 28th of +November. Heirs to such unlooked-for riches, the unfortunate men, stupid +with cold, took up their abode in the deserted bivouacs, broke up the +material which they found there to build themselves cabins, made fuel of +everything that came to hand, cut up the frozen carcasses of the +horses for food, tore the cloth and the curtains from the carriages +for coverlets, and went to sleep, instead of continuing their way +and crossing quietly during the night that cruel Beresina, which an +incredible fatality had already made so destructive to the army. + +The apathy of these poor soldiers can only be conceived by those who +remember to have crossed vast deserts of snow without other perspective +than a snow horizon, without other drink than snow, without other bed +than snow, without other food than snow or a few frozen beet-roots, a +few handfuls of flour, or a little horseflesh. Dying of hunger, thirst, +fatigue, and want of sleep, these unfortunates reached a shore where +they saw before them wood, provisions, innumerable camp equipages, +and carriages,--in short a whole town at their service. The village of +Studzianka had been wholly taken to pieces and conveyed from the heights +on which it stood to the plain. However forlorn and dangerous that +refuge might be, its miseries and its perils only courted men who had +lately seen nothing before them but the awful deserts of Russia. It was, +in fact, a vast asylum which had an existence of twenty-four hours only. + +Utter lassitude, and the sense of unexpected comfort, made that mass of +men inaccessible to every thought but that of rest. Though the +artillery of the left wing of the Russians kept up a steady fire on this +mass,--visible like a stain now black, now flaming, in the midst of the +trackless snow,--this shot and shell seemed to the torpid creatures only +one inconvenience the more. It was like a thunderstorm, despised by all +because the lightning strikes so few; the balls struck only here and +there, the dying, the sick, the dead sometimes! Stragglers arrived in +groups continually; but once here those perambulating corpses separated; +each begged for himself a place near a fire; repulsed repeatedly, they +met again, to obtain by force the hospitality already refused to them. +Deaf to the voice of some of their officers, who warned them of probable +destruction on the morrow, they spent the amount of courage necessary to +cross the river in building that asylum of a night, in making one meal +that they themselves doomed to be their last. The death that awaited +them they considered no evil, provided they could have that one night's +sleep. They thought nothing evil but hunger, thirst, and cold. When +there was no more wood or food or fire, horrible struggles took place +between fresh-comers and the rich who possessed a shelter. The weakest +succumbed. + +At last there came a moment when a number, pursued by the Russians, +found only snow on which to bivouac, and these lay down to rise no more. +Insensibly this mass of almost annihilated beings became so compact, so +deaf, so torpid, so happy perhaps, that Marechal Victor, who had +been their heroic defender by holding twenty thousand Russians under +Wittgenstein at bay, was forced to open a passage by main force through +this forest of men in order to cross the Beresina with five thousand +gallant fellows whom he was taking to the emperor. The unfortunate +malingerers allowed themselves to be crushed rather than stir; they +perished in silence, smiling at their extinguished fires, without a +thought of France. + +It was not until ten o'clock that night that Marechal Victor reached the +bank of the river. Before crossing the bridge which led to Zembin, he +confided the fate of his own rear-guard now left in Studzianka to Eble, +the savior of all those who survived the calamities of the Beresina. +It was towards midnight when this great general, followed by one brave +officer, left the cabin he occupied near the bridge, and studied the +spectacle of that improvised camp placed between the bank of the river +and Studzianka. The Russian cannon had ceased to thunder. Innumerable +fires, which, amid that trackless waste of snow, burned pale and +scarcely sent out any gleams, illumined here and there by sudden flashes +forms and faces that were barely human. Thirty thousand poor wretches, +belonging to all nations, from whom Napoleon had recruited his Russian +army, were trifling away their lives with brutish indifference. + +"Let us save them!" said General Eble to the officer who accompanied +him. "To-morrow morning the Russians will be masters of Studzianka. We +must burn the bridge the moment they appear. Therefore, my friend, take +your courage in your hand! Go to the heights. Tell General Fournier +he has barely time to evacuate his position, force a way through this +crowd, and cross the bridge. When you have seen him in motion follow +him. Find men you can trust, and the moment Fournier had crossed +the bridge, burn, without pity, huts, equipages, caissons, +carriages,--EVERYTHING! Drive that mass of men to the bridge. Compel all +that has two legs to get to the other side of the river. The burning of +everything--EVERYTHING--is now our last resource. If Berthier had let +me destroy those damned camp equipages, this river would swallow only +my poor pontoniers, those fifty heroes who will save the army, but who +themselves will be forgotten." + +The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He felt that +Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do justice +to those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of Beresina, to +destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those heroes still +lives--or, to speak more correctly, suffers--in a village, totally +ignored. + +The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer gone a +hundred yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a number +of his weary pontoniers, and began the work,--the charitable work of +burning the bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing the sleepers, +thus dislodged, to cross the river. + +Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without difficulty, the +only wooden house still left standing in Studzianka. + +"This barrack seems pretty full, comrade," he said to a man whom he saw +by the doorway. + +"If you can get in you'll be a clever trooper," replied the officer, +without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the bark +of the logs of which the house was built. + +"Is that you, Philippe?" said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend by +the tones of his voice. + +"Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?" replied Monsieur de Sucy, looking +at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three years of +age. "I thought you were the other side of that cursed river. What are +you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our dessert? You'll be +welcome," and he went on slicing off the bark, which he gave as a sort +of provender to his horse. + +"I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to make +for Zembin. You'll have barely enough time to get through that crowd of +men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and force them +to march." + +"You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two friends +I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be dead +already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don't eat myself. Have +you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours since anything has gone +into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a madman--just to keep a +little warmth and courage in me." + +"Poor Philippe, I have nothing--nothing! But where's your general,--in +this house?" + +"No, don't go there; the place is full of wounded. Go up the street; +you'll find on your left a sort of pig-pen; the general is there. +Good-bye, old fellow. If we ever dance a trenis on a Paris floor--" + +He did not end his sentence; the north wind blew at that moment with +such ferocity that the aide-de-camp hurried on to escape being frozen, +and the lips of Major de Sucy stiffened. Silence reigned, broken only +by the moans which came from the house, and the dull sound made by the +major's horse as it chewed in a fury of hunger the icy bark of the trees +with which the house was built. Monsieur de Sucy replaced his sabre in +its scabbard, took the bridle of the precious horse he had hitherto been +able to preserve, and led it, in spite of the animal's resistance, from +the wretched fodder it appeared to think excellent. + +"We'll start, Bichette, we'll start! There's none but you, my beauty, +who can save Stephanie. Ha! by and bye you and I may be able to +rest--and die," he added. + +Philippe, wrapped in a fur pelisse, to which he owed his preservation +and his energy, began to run, striking his feet hard upon the frozen +snow to keep them warm. Scarcely had he gone a few hundred yards from +the village than he saw a blaze in the direction of the place where, +since morning, he had left his carriage in charge of his former orderly, +an old soldier. Horrible anxiety laid hold of him. Like all others who +were controlled during this fatal retreat by some powerful sentiment, he +found a strength to save his friends which he could not have put forth +to save himself. + +Presently he reached a slight declivity at the foot of which, in a +spot sheltered from the enemy's balls, he had stationed the carriage, +containing a young woman, the companion of his childhood, the being most +dear to him on earth. At a few steps distant from the vehicle he now +found a company of some thirty stragglers collected around an immense +fire, which they were feeding with planks, caisson covers, wheels, and +broken carriages. These soldiers were, no doubt, the last comers of that +crowd who, from the base of the hill of Studzianka to the fatal river, +formed an ocean of heads intermingled with fires and huts,--a living +sea, swayed by motions that were almost imperceptible, and giving forth +a murmuring sound that rose at times to frightful outbursts. Driven by +famine and despair, these poor wretches must have rifled the carriage +before de Sucy reached it. The old general and his young wife, whom he +had left lying in piles of clothes and wrapped in mantles and pelisses, +were now on the snow, crouching before the fire. One door of the +carriage was already torn off. + +No sooner did the men about the fire hear the tread of the major's horse +than a hoarse cry, the cry of famine, arose,-- + +"A horse! a horse!" + +Those voices formed but one voice. + +"Back! back! look out for yourself!" cried two or three soldiers, aiming +at the mare. Philippe threw himself before his animal, crying out,-- + +"You villains! I'll throw you into your own fire. There are plenty of +dead horses up there. Go and fetch them." + +"Isn't he a joker, that officer! One, two--get out of the way," cried a +colossal grenadier. "No, you won't, hey! Well, as you please, then." + +A woman's cry rose higher than the report of the musket. Philippe +fortunately was not touched, but Bichette, mortally wounded, was +struggling in the throes of death. Three men darted forward and +dispatched her with their bayonets. + +"Cannibals!" cried Philippe, "let me at any rate take the horse-cloth +and my pistols." + +"Pistols, yes," replied the grenadier. "But as for that horse-cloth, no! +here's a poor fellow afoot, with nothing in his stomach for two days, +and shivering in his rags. It is our general." + +Philippe kept silence as he looked at the man, whose boots were worn +out, his trousers torn in a dozen places, while nothing but a ragged +fatigue-cap covered with ice was on his head. He hastened, however, to +take his pistols. Five men dragged the mare to the fire, and cut her +up with the dexterity of a Parisian butcher. The pieces were instantly +seized and flung upon the embers. + +The major went up to the young woman, who had uttered a cry on +recognizing him. He found her motionless, seated on a cushion beside the +fire. She looked at him silently, without smiling. Philippe then saw +the soldier to whom he had confided the carriage; the man was wounded. +Overcome by numbers, he had been forced to yield to the malingerers who +attacked him; and, like the dog who defended to the last possible moment +his master's dinner, he had taken his share of the booty, and was now +sitting beside the fire, wrapped in a white sheet by way of cloak, and +turning carefully on the embers a slice of the mare. Philippe saw upon +his face the joy these preparations gave him. The Comte de Vandieres, +who, for the last few days, had fallen into a state of second childhood, +was seated on a cushion beside his wife, looking fixedly at the fire, +which was beginning to thaw his torpid limbs. He had shown no emotion +of any kind, either at Philippe's danger, or at the fight which ended in +the pillage of the carriage and their expulsion from it. + +At first de Sucy took the hand of the young countess, as if to show her +his affection, and the grief he felt at seeing her reduced to such utter +misery; then he grew silent; seated beside her on a heap of snow which +was turning into a rivulet as it melted, he yielded himself up to the +happiness of being warm, forgetting their peril, forgetting all things. +His face assumed, in spite of himself, an expression of almost stupid +joy, and he waited with impatience until the fragment of the mare given +to his orderly was cooked. The smell of the roasting flesh increased his +hunger, and his hunger silenced his heart, his courage, and his love. +He looked, without anger, at the results of the pillage of his carriage. +All the men seated around the fire had shared his blankets, cushions, +pelisses, robes, also the clothing of the Comte and Comtesse de +Vandieres and his own. Philippe looked about him to see if there was +anything left in or near the vehicle that was worth saving. By the light +of the flames he saw gold and diamonds and plate scattered everywhere, +no one having thought it worth his while to take any. + +Each of the individuals collected by chance around this fire maintained +a silence that was almost horrible, and did nothing but what he judged +necessary for his own welfare. Their misery was even grotesque. Faces, +discolored by cold, were covered with a layer of mud, on which tears had +made a furrow from the eyes to the beard, showing the thickness of that +miry mask. The filth of their long beards made these men still more +repulsive. Some were wrapped in the countess's shawls, others wore the +trappings of horses and muddy saddlecloths, or masses of rags from which +the hoar-frost hung; some had a boot on one leg and a shoe on the other; +in fact, there were none whose costume did not present some laughable +singularity. But in presence of such amusing sights the men themselves +were grave and gloomy. The silence was broken only by the snapping of +the wood, the crackling of the flames, the distant murmur of the camps, +and the blows of the sabre given to what remained of Bichette in search +of her tenderest morsels. A few miserable creatures, perhaps more weary +than the rest, were sleeping; when one of their number rolled into the +fire no one attempted to help him out. These stern logicians argued that +if he were not dead his burns would warn him to find a safer place. If +the poor wretch waked in the flames and perished, no one cared. Two or +three soldiers looked at each other to justify their own indifference by +that of others. Twice this scene had taken place before the eyes of the +countess, who said nothing. When the various pieces of Bichette, placed +here and there upon the embers, were sufficiently broiled, each man +satisfied his hunger with the gluttony that disgusts us when we see it +in animals. + +"This is the first time I ever saw thirty infantrymen on one horse," +cried the grenadier who had shot the mare. + +It was the only jest made that night which proved the national +character. + +Soon the great number of these poor soldiers wrapped themselves in what +they could find and lay down on planks, or whatever would keep them from +contact with the snow, and slept, heedless of the morrow. When the major +was warm, and his hunger appeased, an invincible desire to sleep weighed +down his eyelids. During the short moment of his struggle against that +desire he looked at the young woman, who had turned her face to the +fire and was now asleep, leaving her closed eyes and a portion of her +forehead exposed to sight. She was wrapped in a furred pelisse and a +heavy dragoon's cloak; her head rested on a pillow stained with blood; +an astrakhan hood, kept in place by a handkerchief knotted round her +neck, preserved her face from the cold as much as possible. Her feet +were wrapped in the cloak. Thus rolled into a bundle, as it were, she +looked like nothing at all. Was she the last of the "vivandieres"? +Was she a charming woman, the glory of a lover, the queen of Parisian +salons? Alas! even the eye of her most devoted friend could trace no +sign of anything feminine in that mass of rags and tatters. Love had +succumbed to cold in the heart of a woman! + +Through the thick veils of irresistible sleep, the major soon saw the +husband and wife as mere points or formless objects. The flames of the +fire, those outstretched figures, the relentless cold, waiting, not +three feet distant from that fugitive heat, became all a dream. One +importunate thought terrified Philippe: + +"If I sleep, we shall all die; I will not sleep," he said to himself. + +And yet he slept. + +A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. The sense +of his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his heart. He +uttered a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were alone afoot. +A sea of fire lay before them in the darkness of the night, licking up +the cabins and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, and imprecations +reached their ears; they saw against the flames thousands of human +beings with agonized or furious faces. In the midst of that hell, a +column of soldiers was forcing its way to the bridge, between two hedges +of dead bodies. + +"It is the retreat of the rear-guard!" cried the major. "All hope is +gone!" + +"I have saved your carriage, Philippe," said a friendly voice. + +Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in the flaring +of the flames. + +"Ah! all is lost!" replied the major, "they have eaten my horse; and how +can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?" + +"Take a brand from the fire and threaten them." + +"Threaten the countess!" + +"Good-bye," said the aide-de-camp, "I have scarcely time to get across +that fatal river--and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a night! +These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will allow +themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move on. It is +four o'clock, Philippe! In two hours the Russians will begin to move. +I assure you you will again see the Beresina choked with corpses. +Philippe! think of yourself! You have no horses, you cannot carry the +countess in your arms. Come--come with me!" he said urgently, pulling de +Sucy by the arm. + +"My friend! abandon Stephanie!" + +De Sucy seized the countess, made her stand upright, shook her with the +roughness of a despairing man, and compelled her to wake up. She looked +at him with fixed, dead eyes. + +"You must walk, Stephanie, or we shall all die here." + +For all answer the countess tried to drop again upon the snow and sleep. +The aide-de-camp seized a brand from the fire and waved it in her face. + +"We will save her in spite of herself!" cried Philippe, lifting the +countess and placing her in the carriage. + +He returned to implore the help of his friend. Together they lifted the +old general, without knowing whether he were dead or alive, and put him +beside his wife. The major then rolled over the men who were sleeping +on his blankets, which he tossed into the carriage, together with some +roasted fragments of his mare. + +"What do you mean to do?" asked the aide-de-camp. + +"Drag them." + +"You are crazy." + +"True," said Philippe, crossing his arms in despair. + +Suddenly, he was seized by a last despairing thought. + +"To you," he said, grasping the sound arm of his orderly, "I confide +her for one hour. Remember that you must die sooner than let any one +approach her." + +The major then snatched up the countess's diamonds, held them in one +hand, drew his sabre with the other, and began to strike with the flat +of its blade such of the sleepers as he thought the most intrepid. He +succeeded in awaking the colossal grenadier, and two other men whose +rank it was impossible to tell. + +"We are done for!" he said. + +"I know it," said the grenadier, "but I don't care." + +"Well, death for death, wouldn't you rather sell your life for a pretty +woman, and take your chances of seeing France?" + +"I'd rather sleep," said a man, rolling over on the snow, "and if you +trouble me again, I'll stick my bayonet into your stomach." + +"What is the business, my colonel?" said the grenadier. "That man is +drunk; he's a Parisian; he likes his ease." + +"That is yours, my brave grenadier," cried the major, offering him a +string of diamonds, "if you will follow me and fight like a madman. +The Russians are ten minutes' march from here; they have horses; we are +going up to their first battery for a pair." + +"But the sentinels?" + +"One of us three--" he interrupted himself, and turned to the +aide-de-camp. "You will come, Hippolyte, won't you?" + +Hippolyte nodded. + +"One of us," continued the major, "will take care of the sentinel. +Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed Russians." + +"Forward! major, you're a brave one! But you'll give me a lift on your +carriage?" said the grenadier. + +"Yes, if you don't leave your skin up there--If I fall, Hippolyte, and +you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the countess." + +"Agreed!" cried the grenadier. + +They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which +had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river. +A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow, and +the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above the +heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet that +their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his anvil. The +generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier was safe and +sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a bayonet in his +shoulder; but he clung to his horse's mane, and clasped him so tightly +with his knees that the animal was held as in a vice. + +"God be praised!" cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and +the carriage in its place. + +"If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this," said +the man. "We've played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can tell +you." + +"We have done nothing yet--Harness the horses. Take these ropes." + +"They are not long enough." + +"Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen, +to eke out." + +"Tiens! that's one dead," said the grenadier, stripping the first man he +came to. "Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!" + +"All?" + +"Yes, all; seems as if horse-meat must be indigestible if eaten with +snow." + +The words made Philippe tremble. The cold was increasing. + +"My God! to lose the woman I have saved a dozen times!" + +The major shook the countess. + +"Stephanie! Stephanie!" + +The young woman opened her eyes. + +"Madame! we are saved." + +"Saved!" she repeated, sinking down again. + +The horses were harnessed as best they could. The major, holding his +sabre in his well hand, with his pistols in his belt, gathered up the +reins with the other hand and mounted one horse while the grenadier +mounted the other. The orderly, whose feet were frozen, was thrown +inside the carriage, across the general and the countess. Excited by +pricks from a sabre, the horses drew the carriage rapidly, with a sort +of fury, to the plain, where innumerable obstacles awaited it. It was +impossible to force a way without danger of crushing the sleeping men, +women, and even children, who refused to move when the grenadier awoke +them. In vain did Monsieur de Sucy endeavor to find the swathe cut +by the rear-guard through the mass of human beings; it was already +obliterated, like the wake of a vessel through the sea. They could only +creep along, being often stopped by soldiers who threatened to kill +their horses. + +"Do you want to reach the bridge?" said the grenadier. + +"At the cost of my life--at the cost of the whole world!" + +"Then forward, march! you can't make omelets without breaking eggs." + +And the grenadier of the guard urged the horses over men and bivouacs +with bloody wheels and a double line of corpses on either side of them. +We must do him the justice to say that he never spared his breath in +shouting in stentorian tones,-- + +"Look out there, carrion!" + +"Poor wretches!" cried the major. + +"Pooh! that or the cold, that or the cannon," said the grenadier, +prodding the horses, and urging them on. + +A catastrophe, which might well have happened to them much sooner, put a +stop to their advance. The carriage was overturned. + +"I expected it," cried the imperturbable grenadier. "Ho! ho! your man is +dead." + +"Poor Laurent!" said the major. + +"Laurent? Was he in the 5th chasseurs?" + +"Yes." + +"Then he was my cousin. Oh, well, this dog's life isn't happy enough to +waste any joy in grieving for him." + +The carriage could not be raised; the horses were taken out with serious +and, as it proved, irreparable loss of time. The shock of the overturn +was so violent that the young countess, roused from her lethargy, threw +off her coverings and rose. + +"Philippe, where are we?" she cried in a gentle voice, looking about +her. + +"Only five hundred feet from the bridge. We are now going to cross the +Beresina, Stephanie, and once across I will not torment you any more; +you shall sleep; we shall be in safety, and can reach Wilna easily.--God +grant that she may never know what her life has cost!" he thought. + +"Philippe! you are wounded!" + +"That is nothing." + +Too late! the fatal hour had come. The Russian cannon sounded the +reveille. Masters of Studzianka, they could sweep the plain, and by +daylight the major could see two of their columns moving and forming +on the heights. A cry of alarm arose from the multitude, who started +to their feet in an instant. Every man now understood his danger +instinctively, and the whole mass rushed to gain the bridge with the +motion of a wave. + +The Russians came down with the rapidity of a conflagration. Men, women, +children, horses,--all rushed tumultuously to the bridge. Fortunately +the major, who was carrying the countess, was still some distance from +it. General Eble had just set fire to the supports on the other bank. In +spite of the warnings shouted to those who were rushing upon the bridge, +not a soul went back. Not only did the bridge go down crowded with human +beings, but the impetuosity of that flood of men toward the fatal bank +was so furious that a mass of humanity poured itself violently into the +river like an avalanche. Not a cry was heard; the only sound was like +the dropping of monstrous stones into the water. Then the Beresina was a +mass of floating corpses. + +The retrograde movement of those who now fell back into the plain +to escape the death before them was so violent, and their concussion +against those who were advancing from the rear so terrible, that numbers +were smothered or trampled to death. The Comte and Comtesse de Vandieres +owed their lives to their carriage, behind which Philippe forced them, +using it as a breastwork. As for the major and the grenadier, they found +their safety in their strength. They killed to escape being killed. + +This hurricane of human beings, the flux and reflux of living bodies, +had the effect of leaving for a few short moments the whole bank of the +Beresina deserted. The multitude were surging to the plain. If a few men +rushed to the river, it was less in the hope of reaching the other bank, +which to them was France, than to rush from the horrors of Siberia. +Despair proved an aegis to some bold hearts. One officer sprang +from ice-cake to ice-cake, and reached the opposite shore. A soldier +clambered miraculously over mounds of dead bodies and heaps of ice. The +multitude finally comprehended that the Russians would not put to death +a body of twenty thousand men, without arms, torpid, stupid, unable +to defend themselves; and each man awaited his fate with horrible +resignation. Then the major and the grenadier, the general and his wife, +remained almost alone on the river bank, a few steps from the spot where +the bridge had been. They stood there, with dry eyes, silent, surrounded +by heaps of dead. A few sound soldiers, a few officers to whom the +emergency had restored their natural energy, were near them. This group +consisted of some fifty men in all. The major noticed at a distance +of some two hundred yards the remains of another bridge intended for +carriages and destroyed the day before. + +"Let us make a raft!" he cried. + +He had hardly uttered the words before the whole group rushed to the +ruins, and began to pick up iron bolts, and screws, and pieces of wood +and ropes, whatever materials they could find that were suitable for +the construction of a raft. A score of soldiers and officers, who were +armed, formed a guard, commanded by the major, to protect the workers +against the desperate attacks which might be expected from the crowd, +if their scheme was discovered. The instinct of freedom, strong in all +prisoners, inspiring them to miraculous acts, can only be compared with +that which now drove to action these unfortunate Frenchmen. + +"The Russians! the Russians are coming!" cried the defenders to the +workers; and the work went on, the raft increased in length and breadth +and depth. Generals, soldiers, colonel, all put their shoulders to the +wheel; it was a true image of the building of Noah's ark. The young +countess, seated beside her husband, watched the progress of the work +with regret that she could not help it; and yet she did assist in making +knots to secure the cordage. + +At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it on the river, a +dozen others holding the cords which moored it to the shore. But no +sooner had the builders seen their handiwork afloat, than they sprang +from the bank with odious selfishness. The major, fearing the fury of +this first rush, held back the countess and the general, but too late +he saw the whole raft covered, men pressing together like crowds at a +theatre. + +"Savages!" he cried, "it was I who gave you the idea of that raft. I +have saved you, and you deny me a place." + +A confused murmur answered him. The men at the edge of the raft, armed +with long sticks, pressed with violence against the shore to send off +the frail construction with sufficient impetus to force its way through +corpses and ice-floes to the other shore. + +"Thunder of heaven! I'll sweep you into the water if you don't take the +major and his two companions," cried the stalwart grenadier, who swung +his sabre, stopped the departure, and forced the men to stand closer in +spite of furious outcries. + +"I shall fall,"--"I am falling,"--"Push off! push off!--Forward!" +resounded on all sides. + +The major looked with haggard eyes at Stephanie, who lifted hers to +heaven with a feeling of sublime resignation. + +"To die with thee!" she said. + +There was something even comical in the position of the men in +possession of the raft. Though they were uttering awful groans and +imprecations, they dared not resist the grenadier, for in truth they +were so closely packed together, that a push to one man might send half +of them overboard. This danger was so pressing that a cavalry captain +endeavored to get rid of the grenadier; but the latter, seeing the +hostile movement of the officer, seized him round the waist and flung +him into the water, crying out,-- + +"Ha! ha! my duck, do you want to drink? Well, then, drink!--Here are +two places," he cried. "Come, major, toss me the little woman and follow +yourself. Leave that old fossil, who'll be dead by to-morrow." + +"Make haste!" cried the voice of all, as one man. + +"Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do so." + +The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed himself in his +general's uniform. + +"Let us save the count," said Philippe. + +Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his breast, she +clasped him tightly. + +"Adieu!" she said. + +They had understood each other. + +The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and presence of +mind to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, after +turning a last look to Philippe. + +"Major! will you take my place? I don't care a fig for life," cried the +grenadier. "I've neither wife nor child nor mother." + +"I confide them to your care," said the major, pointing to the count and +his wife. + +"Then be easy; I'll care for them, as though they were my very eyes." + +The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the opposite side +of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt by all. The +count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and fell into the +river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and cut off his head, +flinging it to a great distance. + +"See there! major!" cried the grenadier. + +"Adieu!" said a woman's voice. + +Philippe de Sucy fell to the ground, overcome with horror and fatigue. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE CURE + + +"My poor niece became insane," continued the physician, after a few +moment's silence. "Ah! monsieur," he said, seizing the marquis's hand, +"life has been awful indeed for that poor little woman, so young, +so delicate! After being, by dreadful fatality, separated from the +grenadier, whose name was Fleuriot, she was dragged about for two years +at the heels of the army, the plaything of a crowd of wretches. She +was often, they tell me, barefooted, and scarcely clothed; for months +together, she had no care, no food but what she could pick up; sometimes +kept in hospitals, sometimes driven away like an animal, God alone knows +the horrors that poor unfortunate creature has survived. She was +locked up in a madhouse, in a little town in Germany, at the time +her relatives, thinking her dead, divided her property. In 1816, the +grenadier Fleuriot was at an inn in Strasburg, where she went after +making her escape from the madhouse. Several peasants told the grenadier +that she had lived for a whole month in the forest, where they had +tracked her in vain, trying to catch her, but she had always escaped +them. I was then staying a few miles from Strasburg. Hearing much talk +of a wild woman caught in the woods, I felt a desire to ascertain the +truth of the ridiculous stories which were current about her. What were +my feelings on beholding my own niece! Fleuriot told me all he knew of +her dreadful history. I took the poor man with my niece back to my home +in Auvergne, where, unfortunately, I lost him some months later. He had +some slight control over Madame de Vandieres; he alone could induce her +to wear clothing. 'Adieu,' that word, which is her only language, she +seldom uttered at that time. Fleuriot had endeavored to awaken in her a +few ideas, a few memories of the past; but he failed; all that he gained +was to make her say that melancholy word a little oftener. Still, the +grenadier knew how to amuse her and play with her; my hope was in him, +but--" + +He was silent for a moment. + +"Here," he continued, "she has found another creature, with whom +she seems to have some strange understanding. It is a poor idiotic +peasant-girl, who, in spite of her ugliness and stupidity, loved a man, +a mason. The mason was willing to marry her, as she had some property. +Poor Genevieve was happy for a year; she dressed in her best to dance +with her lover on Sunday; she comprehended love; in her heart and soul +there was room for that one sentiment. But the mason, Dallot, reflected. +He found a girl with all her senses, and more land than Genevieve, +and he deserted the poor creature. Since then she has lost the little +intellect that love developed in her; she can do nothing but watch the +cows, or help at harvesting. My niece and this poor girl are friends, +apparently by some invisible chain of their common destiny, by +the sentiment in each which has caused their madness. See!" added +Stephanie's uncle, leading the marquis to a window. + +The latter then saw the countess seated on the ground between +Genevieve's legs. The peasant-girl, armed with a huge horn comb, was +giving her whole attention to the work of disentangling the long black +hair of the poor countess, who was uttering little stifled cries, +expressive of some instinctive sense of pleasure. Monsieur d'Albon +shuddered as he saw the utter abandonment of the body, the careless +animal ease which revealed in the hapless woman a total absence of soul. + +"Philippe, Philippe!" he muttered, "the past horrors are nothing!--Is +there no hope?" he asked. + +The old physician raised his eyes to heaven. + +"Adieu, monsieur," said the marquis, pressing his hand. "My friend is +expecting me. He will soon come to you." + +"Then it was really she!" cried de Sucy at d'Albon's first words. "Ah! +I still doubted it," he added, a few tears falling from his eyes, which +were habitually stern. + +"Yes, it is the Comtesse de Vandieres," replied the marquis. + +The colonel rose abruptly from his bed and began to dress. + +"Philippe!" cried his friend, "are you mad?" + +"I am no longer ill," replied the colonel, simply. "This news has +quieted my suffering. What pain can I feel when I think of Stephanie? I +am going to the Bons-Hommes, to see her, speak to her, cure her. She is +free. Well, happiness will smile upon us--or Providence is not in +this world. Think you that that poor woman could hear my voice and not +recover reason?" + +"She has already seen you and not recognized you," said his friend, +gently, for he felt the danger of Philippe's excited hopes, and tried to +cast a salutary doubt upon them. + +The colonel quivered; then he smiled, and made a motion of incredulity. +No one dared to oppose his wish, and within a very short time he reached +the old priory. + +"Where is she?" he cried, on arriving. + +"Hush!" said her uncle, "she is sleeping. See, here she is." + +Philippe then saw the poor insane creature lying on a bench in the sun. +Her head was protected from the heat by a forest of hair which fell in +tangled locks over her face. Her arms hung gracefully to the ground; her +body lay easily posed like that of a doe; her feet were folded under her +without effort; her bosom rose and fell at regular intervals; her skin, +her complexion, had that porcelain whiteness, which we admire so much in +the clear transparent faces of children. Standing motionless beside +her, Genevieve held in her hand a branch which Stephanie had doubtless +climbed a tall poplar to obtain, and the poor idiot was gently waving +it above her sleeping companion, to chase away the flies and cool the +atmosphere. + +The peasant-woman gazed at Monsieur Fanjat and the colonel; then, like +an animal which recognizes its master, she turned her head slowly to +the countess, and continued to watch her, without giving any sign +of surprise or intelligence. The air was stifling; the stone bench +glittered in the sunlight; the meadow exhaled to heaven those impish +vapors which dance and dart above the herbage like silvery dust; but +Genevieve seemed not to feel this all-consuming heat. + +The colonel pressed the hand of the doctor violently in his own. Tears +rolled from his eyes along his manly cheeks, and fell to the earth at +the feet of his Stephanie. + +"Monsieur," said the uncle, "for two years past, my heart is broken day +by day. Soon you will be like me. You may not always weep, but you will +always feel your sorrow." + +The two men understood each other; and again, pressing each other's +hands, they remained motionless, contemplating the exquisite calmness +which sleep had cast upon that graceful creature. From time to time +she gave a sigh, and that sigh, which had all the semblance of +sensibilities, made the unhappy colonel tremble with hope. + +"Alas!" said Monsieur Fanjat, "do not deceive yourself, monsieur; there +is no meaning in her sigh." + +Those who have ever watched for hours with delight the sleep of one +who is tenderly beloved, whose eyes will smile to them at waking, can +understand the sweet yet terrible emotion that shook the colonel's soul. +To him, this sleep was an illusion; the waking might be death, death in +its most awful form. Suddenly, a little goat jumped in three bounds to +the bench, and smelt at Stephanie, who waked at the sound. She sprang to +her feet, but so lightly that the movement did not frighten the freakish +animal; then she caught sight of Philippe, and darted away, followed by +her four-footed friend, to a hedge of elders; there she uttered the same +little cry like a frightened bird, which the two men had heard near the +other gate. Then she climbed an acacia, and nestling into its tufted +top, she watched the stranger with the inquisitive attention of the +forest birds. + +"Adieu, adieu, adieu," she said, without the soul communicating one +single intelligent inflexion to the word. + +It was uttered impassively, as the bird sings his note. + +"She does not recognize me!" cried the colonel, in despair. "Stephanie! +it is Philippe, thy Philippe, PHILIPPE!" + +And the poor soldier went to the acacia; but when he was a few steps +from it, the countess looked at him, as if defying him, although a +slight expression of fear seemed to flicker in her eye; then, with a +single bound she sprang from the acacia to a laburnum, and thence to a +Norway fir, where she darted from branch to branch with extraordinary +agility. + +"Do not pursue her," said Monsieur Fanjat to the colonel, "or you will +arouse an aversion which might become insurmountable. I will help you to +tame her and make her come to you. Let us sit on this bench. If you pay +no attention to her, she will come of her own accord to examine you." + +"SHE! not to know me! to flee me!" repeated the colonel, seating himself +on a bench with his back to a tree that shaded it, and letting his head +fall upon his breast. + +The doctor said nothing. Presently, the countess came gently down the +fir-tree, letting herself swing easily on the branches, as the wind +swayed them. At each branch she stopped to examine the stranger; but +seeing him motionless, she at last sprang to the ground and came slowly +towards him across the grass. When she reached a tree about ten feet +distant, against which she leaned, Monsieur Fanjat said to the colonel +in a low voice,-- + +"Take out, adroitly, from my right hand pocket some lumps of sugar +you will feel there. Show them to her, and she will come to us. I will +renounce in your favor my sole means of giving her pleasure. With sugar, +which she passionately loves, you will accustom her to approach you, and +to know you again." + +"When she was a woman," said Philippe, sadly, "she had no taste for +sweet things." + +When the colonel showed her the lump of sugar, holding it between the +thumb and forefinger of his right hand, she again uttered her little +wild cry, and sprang toward him; then she stopped, struggling against +the instinctive fear he caused her; she looked at the sugar and turned +away her head alternately, precisely like a dog whose master forbids him +to touch his food until he has said a letter of the alphabet which he +slowly repeats. At last the animal desire triumphed over fear. Stephanie +darted to Philippe, cautiously putting out her little brown hand to +seize the prize, touched the fingers of her poor lover as she snatched +the sugar, and fled away among the trees. This dreadful scene overcame +the colonel; he burst into tears and rushed into the house. + +"Has love less courage than friendship?" Monsieur Fanjat said to him. +"I have some hope, Monsieur le baron. My poor niece was in a far worse +state than that in which you now find her." + +"How was that possible?" cried Philippe. + +"She went naked," replied the doctor. + +The colonel made a gesture of horror and turned pale. The doctor saw in +that sudden pallor alarming symptoms; he felt the colonel's pulse, found +him in a violent fever, and half persuaded, half compelled him to go to +bed. Then he gave him a dose of opium to ensure a calm sleep. + +Eight days elapsed, during which Colonel de Sucy struggled against +mortal agony; tears no longer came to his eyes. His soul, often +lacerated, could not harden itself to the sight of Stephanie's insanity; +but he covenanted, so to speak, with his cruel situation, and found some +assuaging of his sorrow. He had the courage to slowly tame the countess +by bringing her sweetmeats; he took such pains in choosing them, and he +learned so well how to keep the little conquests he sought to make upon +her instincts--that last shred of her intellect--that he ended by making +her much TAMER than she had ever been. + +Every morning he went into the park, and if, after searching for her +long, he could not discover on what tree she was swaying, nor the covert +in which she crouched to play with a bird, nor the roof on which she +might have clambered, he would whistle the well-known air of "Partant +pour la Syrie," to which some tender memory of their love attached. +Instantly, Stephanie would run to him with the lightness of a fawn. She +was now so accustomed to see him, that he frightened her no longer. Soon +she was willing to sit upon his knee, and clasp him closely with her +thin and agile arm. In that attitude--so dear to lovers!--Philippe would +feed her with sugarplums. Then, having eaten those that he gave her, she +would often search his pockets with gestures that had all the mechanical +velocity of a monkey's motions. When she was very sure there was nothing +more, she looked at Philippe with clear eyes, without ideas, with +recognition. Then she would play with him, trying at times to take off +his boots to see his feet, tearing his gloves, putting on his hat; she +would even let him pass his hands through her hair, and take her in his +arms; she accepted, but without pleasure, his ardent kisses. She would +look at him silently, without emotion, when his tears flowed; but she +always understood his "Partant pour la Syrie," when he whistled it, +though he never succeeded in teaching her to say her own name Stephanie. + +Philippe was sustained in his agonizing enterprise by hope, which never +abandoned him. When, on fine autumn mornings, he found the countess +sitting peacefully on a bench, beneath a poplar now yellowing, the poor +lover would sit at her feet, looking into her eyes as long as she +would let him, hoping ever that the light that was in them would become +intelligent. Sometimes the thought deluded him that he saw those hard +immovable rays softening, vibrating, living, and he cried out,-- + +"Stephanie! Stephanie! thou hearest me, thou seest me!" + +But she listened to that cry as to a noise, the soughing of the wind +in the tree-tops, or the lowing of the cow on the back of which she +climbed. Then the colonel would wring his hands in despair,--despair +that was new each day. + +One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of that rural +haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel was loading his +pistols. The old man felt then that the young man had ceased to hope; +he felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if he conquered the vertigo +that threatened him, it was because he would rather see his niece living +and mad than dead. He hastened up. + +"What are you doing?" he said. + +"That is for me," replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol already +loaded, which was lying on the bench; "and this is for her," he added, +as he forced the wad into the weapon he held. + +The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with the balls. + +"Then you do not know," said the doctor, coldly, concealing his terror, +"that in her sleep last night she called you: Philippe!" + +"She called me!" cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which Stephanie +picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that was on +the bench, and rushed away. + +"Poor darling!" said the doctor, happy in the success of his lie. He +pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking to +himself: "He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he suffers. He +does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do we not? He +is mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. No, God alone +should call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we pity thee because +thou canst not share our sorrows, fools that we are!--But," he said, +sitting down and taking her on his knee, "nothing troubles thee; thy +life is like that of a bird, of a fawn--" + +As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was hopping near +them, caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled it, looked +at it, dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of a tree without +a thought. + +The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down into the +gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,--he believed in the coming +happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to him, he +took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first time, and +he led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of which +was dropping to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own accord +Stephanie placed herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with joy. + +"Love," he said, kissing her hands passionately, "I am Philippe." + +She looked at him with curiosity. + +"Come," he said, pressing her to him, "dost thou feel my heart? It has +beaten for thee alone. I love thee ever. Philippe is not dead; he is +not dead, thou art on him, in his arms. Thou art MY Stephanie; I am thy +Philippe." + +"Adieu," she said, "adieu." + +The colonel quivered, for he fancied he saw his own excitement +communicated to his mistress. His heart-rending cry, drawn from him by +despair, that last effort of an eternal love, of a delirious passion, +was successful, the mind of his darling was awaking. + +"Ah! Stephanie! Stephanie! we shall yet be happy." + +She gave a cry of satisfaction, and her eyes brightened with a flash of +vague intelligence. + +"She knows me!--Stephanie!" + +His heart swelled; his eyelids were wet with tears. Then, suddenly, the +countess showed him a bit of sugar she had found in his pocket while +he was speaking to her. He had mistaken for human thought the amount +of reason required for a monkey's trick. Philippe dropped to the ground +unconscious. Monsieur Fanjat found the countess sitting on the colonel's +body. She was biting her sugar, and testifying her pleasure by pretty +gestures and affectations with which, had she her reason, she might have +imitated her parrot or her cat. + +"Ah! my friend," said Philippe, when he came to his senses, "I die every +day, every moment! I love too well! I could still bear all, if, in +her madness, she had kept her woman's nature. But to see her always a +savage, devoid even of modesty, to see her--" + +"You want opera madness, do you? something picturesque and pleasing," +said the doctor, bitterly. "Your love and your devotion yield before +a prejudice. Monsieur, I have deprived myself for your sake of the sad +happiness of watching over my niece; I have left to you the pleasure of +playing with her; I have kept for myself the heaviest cares. While you +have slept, I have watched, I have--Go, monsieur, go! abandon her! leave +this sad refuge. I know how to live with that dear darling creature; I +comprehend her madness, I watch her gestures, I know her secrets. Some +day you will thank me for thus sending you away." + +The colonel left the old monastery, never to return but once. The doctor +was horrified when he saw the effect he had produced upon his guest, +whom he now began to love when he saw him thus. Surely, if either of the +two lovers were worthy of pity, it was Philippe; did he not bear alone +the burden of their dreadful sorrow? + +After the colonel's departure the doctor kept himself informed about +him; he learned that the miserable man was living on an estate near +Saint-Germain. In truth, the baron, on the faith of a dream, had formed +a project which he believed would yet restore the mind of his darling. +Unknown to the doctor, he spent the rest of the autumn in preparing for +his enterprise. A little river flowed through his park and inundated +during the winter the marshes on either side of it, giving it some +resemblance to the Beresina. The village of Satout, on the heights +above, closed in, like Studzianka, the scene of horror. The colonel +collected workmen to deepen the banks, and by the help of his memory, he +copied in his park the shore where General Eble destroyed the bridge. +He planted piles, and made buttresses and burned them, leaving their +charred and blackened ruins, standing in the water from shore to shore. +Then he gathered fragments of all kinds, like those of which the raft +was built. He ordered dilapidated uniforms and clothing of every grade, +and hired hundreds of peasants to wear them; he erected huts and cabins +for the purpose of burning them. In short, he forgot nothing that might +recall that most awful of all scenes, and he succeeded. + +Toward the last of December, when the snow had covered with its thick, +white mantle all his imitative preparations, he recognized the Beresina. +This false Russia was so terribly truthful, that several of his army +comrades recognized the scene of their past misery at once. Monsieur +de Sucy took care to keep secret the motive for this tragic imitation, +which was talked of in several Parisian circles as a proof of insanity. + +Early in January, 1820, the colonel drove in a carriage, the very +counterpart of the one in which he had driven the Comte and Comtesse de +Vandieres from Moscow to Studzianka. The horses, too, were like those he +had gone, at the peril of his life, to fetch from the Russian outposts. +He himself wore the soiled fantastic clothing, the same weapons, as on +the 29th of November, 1812. He had let his beard grow, also his hair, +which was tangled and matted, and his face was neglected, so that +nothing might be wanting to represent the awful truth. + +"I can guess your purpose," cried Monsieur Fanjat, when he saw the +colonel getting out of the carriage. "If you want to succeed, do not +let my niece see you in that equipage. To-night I will give her opium. +During her sleep, we will dress her as she was at Studzianka, and place +her in the carriage. I will follow you in another vehicle." + +About two in the morning, the sleeping countess was placed in the +carriage and wrapped in heavy coverings. A few peasants with torches +lighted up this strange abduction. Suddenly, a piercing cry broke the +silence of the night. Philippe and the doctor turned, and saw Genevieve +coming half-naked from the ground-floor room in which she slept. + +"Adieu, adieu! all is over, adieu!" she cried, weeping hot tears. + +"Genevieve, what troubles you?" asked the doctor. + +Genevieve shook her head with a motion of despair, raised her arm to +heaven, looked at the carriage, uttering a long-drawn moan with every +sign of the utmost terror; then she returned to her room silently. + +"That is a good omen!" cried the colonel. "She feels she is to lose her +companion. Perhaps she SEES that Stephanie will recover her reason." + +"God grant it!" said Monsieur Fanjat, who himself was affected by the +incident. + +Ever since he had made a close study of insanity, the good man had +met with many examples of the prophetic faculty and the gift of second +sight, proofs of which are frequently given by alienated minds, and +which may also be found, so travellers say, among certain tribes of +savages. + +As the colonel had calculated, Stephanie crossed the fictitious plain of +the Beresina at nine o'clock in the morning, when she was awakened by a +cannon shot not a hundred yards from the spot where the experiment was +to be tried. This was a signal. Hundreds of peasants made a frightful +clamor like that on the shore of the river that memorable night, when +twenty thousand stragglers were doomed to death or slavery by their own +folly. + +At the cry, at the shot, the countess sprang from the carriage, and ran, +with delirious emotion, over the snow to the banks of the river; she saw +the burned bivouacs and the charred remains of the bridge, and the fatal +raft, which the men were launching into the icy waters of the Beresina. +The major, Philippe, was there, striking back the crowd with his sabre. +Madame de Vandieres gave a cry, which went to all hearts, and threw +herself before the colonel, whose heart beat wildly. She seemed to +gather herself together, and, at first, looked vaguely at the singular +scene. For an instant, as rapid as the lightning's flash, her eyes had +that lucidity, devoid of mind, which we admire in the eye of birds; then +passing her hand across her brow with the keen expression of one who +meditates, she contemplated the living memory of a past scene spread +before her, and, turning quickly to Philippe, she SAW HIM. An awful +silence reigned in the crowd. The colonel gasped, but dared not speak; +the doctor wept. Stephanie's sweet face colored faintly; then, from tint +to tint, it returned to the brightness of youth, till it glowed with +a beautiful crimson. Life and happiness, lighted by intelligence, came +nearer and nearer like a conflagration. Convulsive trembling rose from +her feet to her heart. Then these phenomena seemed to blend in one as +Stephanie's eyes cast forth a celestial ray, the flame of a living +soul. She lived, she thought! She shuddered, with fear perhaps, for God +himself unloosed that silent tongue, and cast anew His fires into that +long-extinguished soul. Human will came with its full electric torrent, +and vivified the body from which it had been driven. + +"Stephanie!" cried the colonel. + +"Oh! it is Philippe," said the poor countess. + +She threw herself into the trembling arms that the colonel held out to +her, and the clasp of the lovers frightened the spectators. Stephanie +burst into tears. Suddenly her tears stopped, she stiffened as though +the lightning had touched her, and said in a feeble voice,-- + +"Adieu, Philippe; I love thee, adieu!" + +"Oh! she is dead," cried the colonel, opening his arms. + +The old doctor received the inanimate body of his niece, kissed it as +though he were a young man, and carrying it aside, sat down with it +still in his arms on a pile of wood. He looked at the countess and +placed his feeble trembling hand upon her heart. That heart no longer +beat. + +"It is true," he said, looking up at the colonel, who stood motionless, +and then at Stephanie, on whom death was placing that resplendent +beauty, that fugitive halo, which is, perhaps, a pledge of the glorious +future--"Yes, she is dead." + +"Ah! that smile," cried Philippe, "do you see that smile? Can it be +true?" + +"She is turning cold," replied Monsieur Fanjat. + +Monsieur de Sucy made a few steps to tear himself away from the sight; +but he stopped, whistled the air that Stephanie had known, and when she +did not come to him, went on with staggering steps like a drunken man, +still whistling, but never turning back. + +General Philippe de Sucy was thought in the social world to be a very +agreeable man, and above all a very gay one. A few days ago, a lady +complimented him on his good humor, and the charming equability of his +nature. + +"Ah! madame," he said, "I pay dear for my liveliness in my lonely +evenings." + +"Are you ever alone?" she said. + +"No," he replied smiling. + +If a judicious observer of human nature could have seen at that moment +the expression on the Comte de Sucy's face, he would perhaps have +shuddered. + +"Why don't you marry?" said the lady, who had several daughters at +school. "You are rich, titled, and of ancient lineage; you have talents, +and a great future before you; all things smile upon you." + +"Yes," he said, "but a smile kills me." + +The next day the lady heard with great astonishment that Monsieur de +Sucy had blown his brains out during the night. The upper ranks of +society talked in various ways over this extraordinary event, and each +person looked for the cause of it. According to the proclivities of each +reasoner, play, love, ambition, hidden disorders, and vices, explained +the catastrophe, the last scene of a drama begun in 1812. Two men alone, +a marquis and former deputy, and an aged physician, knew that Philippe +de Sucy was one of those strong men to whom God has given the unhappy +power of issuing daily in triumph from awful combats which they fight +with an unseen monster. If, for a moment, God withdraws from such men +His all-powerful hand, they succumb. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personage appears in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Note: Adieu is also entitled Farewell. + + Granville, Vicomte de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Second Home + Farewell (Adieu) + Cesar Birotteau + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + A Daughter of Eve + Cousin Pons + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + +***** This file should be named 1554.txt or 1554.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/5/1554/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac4cb16 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1554 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1554) diff --git a/old/1554adieu10h.zip b/old/1554adieu10h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0ff800 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1554adieu10h.zip diff --git a/old/20040602-1554.txt b/old/20040602-1554.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..943af7a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/20040602-1554.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2214 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Adieu + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: June 2, 2004 [EBook #1554] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + + + + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + + + + + ADIEU + + BY + + HONORE DE BALZAC + + + + Translated By + Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + + DEDICATION + + To Prince Frederic Schwartzenburg + + + + + + ADIEU + + + + CHAPTER I + + AN OLD MONASTERY + +"Come, deputy of the Centre, forward! Quick step! march! if we want to +be in time to dine with the others. Jump, marquis! there, that's +right! why, you can skip across a stubble-field like a deer!" + +These words were said by a huntsman peacefully seated at the edge of +the forest of Ile-Adam, who was finishing an Havana cigar while +waiting for his companion, who had lost his way in the tangled +underbrush of the wood. At his side four panting dogs were watching, +as he did, the personage he addressed. To understand how sarcastic +were these exhortations, repeated at intervals, we should state that +the approaching huntsman was a stout little man whose protuberant +stomach was the evidence of a truly ministerial "embonpoint." He was +struggling painfully across the furrows of a vast wheat-field recently +harvested, the stubble of which considerably impeded him; while to add +to his other miseries the sun's rays, striking obliquely on his face, +collected an abundance of drops of perspiration. Absorbed in the +effort to maintain his equilibrium, he leaned, now forward, now back, +in close imitation of the pitching of a carriage when violently +jolted. The weather looked threatening. Though several spaces of blue +sky still parted the thick black clouds toward the horizon, a flock of +fleecy vapors were advancing with great rapidity and drawing a light +gray curtain from east to west. As the wind was acting only on the +upper region of the air, the atmosphere below it pressed down the hot +vapors of the earth. Surrounded by masses of tall trees, the valley +through which the hunter struggled felt like a furnace. Parched and +silent, the forest seemed thirsty. The birds, even the insects, were +voiceless; the tree-tops scarcely waved. Those persons who may still +remember the summer of 1819 can imagine the woes of the poor deputy, +who was struggling along, drenched in sweat, to regain his mocking +friend. The latter, while smoking his cigar, had calculated from the +position of the sun that it must be about five in the afternoon. + +"Where the devil are we?" said the stout huntsman, mopping his +forehead and leaning against the trunk of a tree nearly opposite to +his companion, for he felt unequal to the effort of leaping the ditch +between them. + +"That's for me to ask you," said the other, laughing, as he lay among +the tall brown brake which crowned the bank. Then, throwing the end of +his cigar into the ditch, he cried out vehemently: "I swear by Saint +Hubert that never again will I trust myself in unknown territory with +a statesman, though he be, like you, my dear d'Albon, a college mate." + +"But, Philippe, have you forgotten your French? Or have you left your +wits in Siberia?" replied the stout man, casting a sorrowfully comic +look at a sign-post about a hundred feet away. + +"True, true," cried Philippe, seizing his gun and springing with a +bound into the field and thence to the post. "This way, d'Albon, this +way," he called back to his friend, pointing to a broad paved path and +reading aloud the sign: "'From Baillet to Ile-Adam.' We shall +certainly find the path to Cassan, which must branch from this one +between here and Ile-Adam." + +"You are right, colonel," said Monsieur d'Albon, replacing upon his +head the cap with which he had been fanning himself. + +"Forward then, my respectable privy councillor," replied Colonel +Philippe, whistling to the dogs, who seemed more willing to obey him +than the public functionary to whom they belonged. + +"Are you aware, marquis," said the jeering soldier, "that we still +have six miles to go? That village over there must be Baillet." + +"Good heavens!" cried the marquis, "go to Cassan if you must, but +you'll go alone. I prefer to stay here, in spite of the coming storm, +and wait for the horse you can send me from the chateau. You've played +me a trick, Sucy. We were to have had a nice little hunt not far from +Cassan, and beaten the coverts I know. Instead of that, you have kept +me running like a hare since four o'clock this morning, and all I've +had for breakfast is a cup of milk. Now, if you ever have a petition +before the Court, I'll make you lose it, however just your claim." + +The poor discouraged huntsman sat down on a stone that supported the +signpost, relieved himself of his gun and his gamebag, and heaved a +long sigh. + +"France! such are thy deputies!" exclaimed Colonel de Sucy, laughing. +"Ah! my poor d'Albon, if you had been like me six years in the wilds +of Siberia--" + +He said no more, but he raised his eyes to heaven as if that anguish +were between himself and God. + +"Come, march on!" he added. "If you sit still you are lost." + +"How can I, Philippe? It is an old magisterial habit to sit still. On +my honor! I'm tired out-- If I had only killed a hare!" + +The two men presented a rather rare contrast: the public functionary +was forty-two years of age and seemed no more than thirty, whereas the +soldier was thirty, and seemed forty at the least. Both wore the red +rosette of the officers of the Legion of honor. A few spare locks of +black hair mixed with white, like the wing of a magpie, escaped from +the colonel's cap, while handsome brown curls adorned the brow of the +statesman. One was tall, gallant, high-strung, and the lines of his +pallid face showed terrible passions or frightful griefs. The other +had a face that was brilliant with health, and jovially worth of an +epicurean. Both were deeply sun-burned, and their high gaiters of +tanned leather showed signs of the bogs and the thickets they had just +come through. + +"Come," said Monsieur de Sucy, "let us get on. A short hour's march, +and we shall reach Cassan in time for a good dinner." + +"It is easy to see you have never loved," replied the councillor, with +a look that was pitifully comic; "you are as relentless as article 304 +of the penal code." + +Philippe de Sucy quivered; his broad brow contracted; his face became +as sombre as the skies above them. Some memory of awful bitterness +distorted for a moment his features, but he said nothing. Like all +strong men, he drove down his emotions to the depths of his heart; +thinking perhaps, as simple characters are apt to think, that there +was something immodest in unveiling griefs when human language cannot +render their depths and may only rouse the mockery of those who do not +comprehend them. Monsieur d'Albon had one of those delicate natures +which divine sorrows, and are instantly sympathetic to the emotion +they have involuntarily aroused. He respected his friend's silence, +rose, forgot his fatigue, and followed him silently, grieved to have +touched a wound that was evidently not healed. + +"Some day, my friend," said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking +him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, "I will relate to +you my life. To-day I cannot." + +They continued their way in silence. When the colonel's pain seemed +soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or +rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of +the forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching +paths, hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask +hospitality. Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight +smoke rising among the trees; he stopped, looked more attentively, and +saw, in the midst of a vast copse, the dark-green branches of several +pine-trees. + +"A house! a house!" he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in crying +"Land!" + +Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who had fallen +into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically. + +"I'd rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair here," he +said, "than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux." + +These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from the +councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of which +glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree trunks. + +"Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory," cried the +marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through which +they could see, in the midst of a large park, a building constructed +in the style of the monasteries of old. "How those rascals the monks +knew how to choose their sites!" + +This last exclamation was an expression of surprise and pleasure at +the poetical hermitage which met his eyes. The house stood on the +slope of the mountain, at the summit of which is the village of +Nerville. The great centennial oaks of the forest which encircled the +dwelling made the place an absolute solitude. The main building, +formerly occupied by the monks, faced south. The park seemed to have +about forty acres. Near the house lay a succession of green meadows, +charmingly crossed by several clear rivulets, with here and there a +piece of water naturally placed without the least apparent artifice. +Trees of elegant shape and varied foliage were distributed about. +Grottos, cleverly managed, and massive terraces with dilapidated steps +and rusty railings, gave a peculiar character to this lone retreat. +Art had harmonized her constructions with the picturesque effects of +nature. Human passions seemed to die at the feet of those great trees, +which guarded this asylum from the tumult of the world as they shaded +it from the fires of the sun. + +"How desolate!" thought Monsieur d'Albon, observing the sombre +expression which the ancient building gave to the landscape, gloomy as +though a curse were on it. It seemed a fatal spot deserted by man. Ivy +had stretched its tortuous muscles, covered by its rich green mantle, +everywhere. Brown or green, red or yellow mosses and lichen spread +their romantic tints on trees and seats and roofs and stones. The +crumbling window-casings were hollowed by rain, defaced by time; the +balconies were broken, the terraces demolished. Some of the outside +shutters hung from a single hinge. The rotten doors seemed quite +unable to resist an assailant. Covered with shining tufts of +mistletoe, the branches of the neglected fruit-trees gave no sign of +fruit. Grass grew in the paths. Such ruin and desolation cast a weird +poesy on the scene, filling the souls of the spectators with dreamy +thoughts. A poet would have stood there long, plunged in a melancholy +reverie, admiring this disorder so full of harmony, this destruction +which was not without its grace. Suddenly, the brown tiles shone, the +mosses glittered, fantastic shadows danced upon the meadows and +beneath the trees; fading colors revived; striking contrasts +developed, the foliage of the trees and shrubs defined itself more +clearly in the light. Then--the light went out. The landscape seemed +to have spoken, and now was silent, returning to its gloom, or rather +to the soft sad tones of an autumnal twilight. + +"It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty," said the marquis, beginning +to view the house with the eyes of a land owner. "I wonder to whom it +belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an exquisite +spot." + +At that instant a woman sprang from beneath a chestnut-tree standing +to the right of the gate, and, without making any noise, passed before +the marquis as rapidly as the shadow of a cloud. This vision made him +mute with surprise. + +"Why, Albon, what's the matter?" asked the colonel. + +"I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake," replied the +marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to get +another sight of the phantom. + +"She must be beneath that fig-tree," he said, pointing to the foliage +of a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate. + +"She! who?" + +"How can I tell?" replied Monsieur d'Albon. "A strange woman rose up +there, just before me," he said in a low voice; "she seemed to come +from the world of shades rather than from the land of the living. She +is so slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her face +was as white as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. She +looked at me as she flitted by, and though I may say I'm no coward, +that cold immovable look froze the blood in my veins." + +"Is she pretty?" asked Philippe. + +"I don't know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that face." + +"Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!" cried the colonel. +"Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter that +singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and the +red lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn't the place look to you as +if it belonged to the devil?--perhaps he inherited it from the monks. +Come, let us pursue the black and white lady--forward, march!" cried +Philippe, with forced gaiety. + +At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was something like +that of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a few +shrubs sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking wave. In +vain they listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and kept the +secret of those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved at +all. + +"It is very singular!" said Philippe, as they skirted the park wall. + +The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which led to +the village of Chauvry. After following this path some way toward the +main road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to the +principal facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side the +dilapidation and disorder of the premises had reached their height. +Immense cracks furrowed the walls of the house, which was built on +three sides of a square. Fragments of tiles and slates lying on the +ground, and the dilapidated condition of the roofs, were evidence of a +total want of care on the part of the owners. The fruit had fallen +from the trees and lay rotting on the ground; a cow was feeding on the +lawn and treading down the flowers in the borders, while a goat +browsed on the shoots of the vines and munched the unripe grapes. + +"Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized," said the +colonel, pulling the chain of a bell; but the bell was without a +clapper. + +The huntsmen heard nothing but the curiously sharp noise of a rusty +spring. Though very dilapidated, a little door made in the wall beside +the iron gates resisted all their efforts to open it. + +"Well, well, this is getting to be exciting," said de Sucy to his +companion. + +"If I were not a magistrate," replied Monsieur d'Albon, "I should +think that woman was a witch." + +As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed her +warm muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing human +beings. Then a woman, if that name could be applied to the indefinable +being who suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away the cow +by its rope. This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, beneath +which trailed long locks of hair in color and shape like the flax on a +distaff. She wore no fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black and +gray stripes, too short by several inches, exposed her legs. She might +have belonged to some tribe of Red-Skins described by Cooper, for her +legs, neck, and arms were the color of brick. No ray of intelligence +enlivened her vacant face. A few whitish hairs served her for +eyebrows; the eyes themselves, of a dull blue, were cold and wan; and +her mouth was so formed as to show the teeth, which were crooked, but +as white as those of a dog. + +"Here, my good woman!" called Monsieur de Sucy. + +She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly expression at +the two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful smile +to her face. + +"Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong here?" + +To these questions and several others which the two friends +alternately addressed to her, she answered only with guttural sounds +that seemed more like the growl of an animal than the voice of a human +being. + +"She must be deaf and dumb," said the marquis. + +"Bons-Hommes!" cried the peasant woman. + +"Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the Bons-Hommes," +said the marquis. + +He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the peasant +woman colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of the +cow, which was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two hunters, +examining every part of their clothing; then she yelped, growled, and +clucked, but did not speak. + +"What is your name?" said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as if he +meant to mesmerize her. + +"Genevieve," she said, laughing with a silly air. + +"The cow is the most intelligent being we have seen so far," said the +marquis. "I shall fire my gun and see if that will being some one." + +Just as d'Albon raised his gun, the colonel stopped him with a +gesture, and pointed to the form of a woman, probably the one who had +so keenly piqued his curiosity. At this moment she seemed lost in the +deepest meditation, and was coming with slow steps along a distant +pathway, so that the two friends had ample time to examine her. + +She was dressed in a ragged gown of black satin. Her long hair fell in +masses of curls over her forehead, around her shoulders, and below her +waist, serving her for a shawl. Accustomed no doubt to this disorder, +she seldom pushed her hair from her forehead; and when she did so, it +was with a sudden toss of her head which only for a moment cleared her +forehead and eyes from the thick veil. Her gesture, like that of an +animal, had a remarkable mechanical precision, the quickness of which +seemed wonderful in a woman. The huntsmen were amazed to see her +suddenly leap up on the branch of an apple-tree, and sit there with +the ease of a bird. She gathered an apple and ate it; then she dropped +to the ground with the graceful ease we admire in a squirrel. Her +limbs possessed an elasticity which took from every movement the +slightest appearance of effort or constraint. She played upon the +turf, rolling herself about like a child; then, suddenly, she flung +her feet and hands forward, and lay at full length on the grass, with +the grace and natural ease of a young cat asleep in the sun. Thunder +sounded in the distance, and she turned suddenly, rising on her hands +and knees with the rapidity of a dog which hears a coming footstep. + +The effects of this singular attitude was to separate into two heavy +masses the volume of her black hair, which now fell on either side of +her head, and allowed the two spectators to admire the white shoulders +glistening like daisies in a field, and the throat, the perfection of +which allowed them to judge of the other beauties of her figure. + +Suddenly she uttered a distressful cry and rose to her feet. Her +movements succeeded each other with such airiness and grace that she +seemed not a creature of this world but a daughter of the atmosphere, +as sung in the poems of Ossian. She ran toward a piece of water, shook +one of her legs lightly to cast off her shoe, and began to dabble her +foot, white as alabaster, in the current, admiring, perhaps, the +undulations she thus produced upon the surface of the water. Then she +knelt down at the edge of the stream and amused herself, like a child, +in casting in her long tresses and pulling them abruptly out, to watch +the shower of drops that glittered down, looking, as the sunlight +struck athwart them, like a chaplet of pearls. + +"That woman is mad!" cried the marquis. + +A hoarse cry, uttered by Genevieve, seemed uttered as a warning to the +unknown woman, who turned suddenly, throwing back her hair from either +side of her face. At this instant the colonel and Monsieur d'Albon +could distinctly see her features; she, herself, perceiving the two +friends, sprang to the iron railing with the lightness and rapidity of +a deer. + +"Adieu!" she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, the melody of which +did not convey the slightest feeling or the slightest thought. + +Monsieur d'Albon admired the long lashes of her eyelids, the blackness +of her eyebrows, and the dazzling whiteness of a skin devoid of even +the faintest tinge of color. Tiny blue veins alone broke the +uniformity of its pure white tones. When the marquis turned to his +friend as if to share with him his amazement at the sight of this +singular creature, he found him stretched on the ground as if dead. +D'Albon fired his gun in the air to summon assistance, crying out +"Help! help!" and then endeavored to revive the colonel. At the sound +of the shot, the unknown woman, who had hitherto stood motionless, +fled away with the rapidity of an arrow, uttering cries of fear like a +wounded animal, and running hither and thither about the meadow with +every sign of the greatest terror. + +Monsieur d'Albon, hearing the rumbling of a carriage on the high-road +to Ile-Adam, waved his handkerchief and shouted to its occupants for +assistance. The carriage was immediately driven up to the old +monastery, and the marquis recognized his neighbors, Monsieur and +Madame de Granville, who at once gave up their carriage to the service +of the two gentlemen. Madame de Granville had with her, by chance, a +bottle of salts, which revived the colonel for a moment. When he +opened his eyes he turned them to the meadow, where the unknown woman +was still running and uttering her distressing cries. A smothered +exclamation escaped him, which seemed to express a sense of horror; +then he closed his eyes again, and made a gesture as if to implore his +friend to remove him from that sight. + +Monsieur and Madame de Granville placed their carriage entirely at the +disposal of the marquis, assuring him courteously that they would like +to continue their way on foot. + +"Who is that lady?" asked the marquis, signing toward the unknown +woman. + +"I believe she comes from Moulins," replied Monsieur de Granville. +"She is the Comtesse de Vandieres, and they say she is mad; but as she +has only been here two months I will not vouch for the truth of these +hearsays." + +Monsieur d'Albon thanked his friends, and placing the colonel in the +carriage, started with him for Cassan. + +"It is she!" cried Philippe, recovering his senses. + +"Who is she?" asked d'Albon. + +"Stephanie. Ah, dead and living, living and mad! I fancied I was +dying." + +The prudent marquis, appreciating the gravity of the crisis through +which his friend was passing, was careful not to question or excite +him; he was only anxious to reach the chateau, for the change which +had taken place in the colonel's features, in fact in his whole +person, made him fear for his friend's reason. As soon, therefore, as +the carriage had reached the main street of Ile-Adam, he dispatched +the footman to the village doctor, so that the colonel was no sooner +fairly in his bed at the chateau than the physician was beside him. + +"If monsieur had not been many hours without food the shock would have +killed him," said the doctor. + +After naming the first precautions, the doctor left the room, to +prepare, himself, a calming potion. The next day, Monsieur de Sucy was +better, but the doctor still watched him carefully. + +"I will admit to you, monsieur le marquis," he said, "that I have +feared some affection of the brain. Monsieur de Sucy has received a +violent shock; his passions are strong; but, in him, the first blow +decides all. To-morrow he may be entirely out of danger." + +The doctor was not mistaken; and the following day he allowed the +marquis to see his friend. + +"My dear d'Albon," said Philippe, pressing his hand, "I am going to +ask a kindness of you. Go to the Bons-Hommes, and find out all you can +of the lady we saw there; and return to me as quickly as you can; I +shall count the minutes." + +Monsieur d'Albon mounted his horse at once, and galloped to the old +abbey. When he arrived there, he saw before the iron gate a tall, +spare man with a very kindly face, who answered in the affirmative +when asked if he lived there. Monsieur d'Albon then informed him of +the reasons for his visit. + +"What! monsieur," said the other, "was it you who fired that fatal +shot? You very nearly killed my poor patient." + +"But, monsieur, I fired in the air." + +"You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at her." + +"Then we must not reproach each other, monsieur, for the sight of the +countess has almost killed my friend, Monsieur de Sucy." + +"Heavens! can you mean Baron Philippe de Sucy?" cried the doctor, +clasping his hands. "Did he go to Russia; was he at the passage of the +Beresina?" + +"Yes," replied d'Albon, "he was captured by the Cossacks and kept for +five years in Siberia; he recovered his liberty a few months ago." + +"Come in, monsieur," said the master of the house, leading the marquis +into a room on the lower floor where everything bore the marks of +capricious destruction. The silken curtains beside the windows were +torn, while those of muslin remained intact. + +"You see," said the tall old man, as they entered, "the ravages +committed by that dear creature, to whom I devote myself. She is my +niece; in spite of the impotence of my art, I hope some day to restore +her reason by attempting a method which can only be employed, +unfortunately, by very rich people." + +Then, like all persons living in solitude who are afflicted with an +ever present and ever renewed grief, he related to the marquis at +length the following narrative, which is here condensed, and relieved +of the many digressions made by both the narrator and the listener. + + + + CHAPTER II + + THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA + +Marechal Victor, when he started, about nine at night, from the +heights of Studzianka, which he had defended, as the rear-guard of the +retreating army, during the whole day of November 28th, 1812, left a +thousand men behind him, with orders to protect to the last possible +moment whichever of the two bridges across the Beresina might still +exist. This rear-guard had devoted itself to the task of saving a +frightful multitude of stragglers overcome by the cold, who +obstinately refused to leave the bivouacs of the army. The heroism of +this generous troop proved useless. The stragglers who flocked in +masses to the banks of the Beresina found there, unhappily, an immense +number of carriages, caissons, and articles of all kinds which the +army had been forced to abandon when effecting its passage of the +river on the 27th and 28th of November. Heirs to such unlooked-for +riches, the unfortunate men, stupid with cold, took up their abode in +the deserted bivouacs, broke up the material which they found there to +build themselves cabins, made fuel of everything that came to hand, +cut up the frozen carcasses of the horses for food, tore the cloth and +the curtains from the carriages for coverlets, and went to sleep, +instead of continuing their way and crossing quietly during the night +that cruel Beresina, which an incredible fatality had already made so +destructive to the army. + +The apathy of these poor soldiers can only be conceived by those who +remember to have crossed vast deserts of snow without other +perspective than a snow horizon, without other drink than snow, +without other bed than snow, without other food than snow or a few +frozen beet-roots, a few handfuls of flour, or a little horseflesh. +Dying of hunger, thirst, fatigue, and want of sleep, these +unfortunates reached a shore where they saw before them wood, +provisions, innumerable camp equipages, and carriages,--in short a +whole town at their service. The village of Studzianka had been wholly +taken to pieces and conveyed from the heights on which it stood to the +plain. However forlorn and dangerous that refuge might be, its +miseries and its perils only courted men who had lately seen nothing +before them but the awful deserts of Russia. It was, in fact, a vast +asylum which had an existence of twenty-four hours only. + +Utter lassitude, and the sense of unexpected comfort, made that mass +of men inaccessible to every thought but that of rest. Though the +artillery of the left wing of the Russians kept up a steady fire on +this mass,--visible like a stain now black, now flaming, in the midst +of the trackless snow,--this shot and shell seemed to the torpid +creatures only one inconvenience the more. It was like a thunderstorm, +despised by all because the lightning strikes so few; the balls struck +only here and there, the dying, the sick, the dead sometimes! +Stragglers arrived in groups continually; but once here those +perambulating corpses separated; each begged for himself a place near +a fire; repulsed repeatedly, they met again, to obtain by force the +hospitality already refused to them. Deaf to the voice of some of +their officers, who warned them of probable destruction on the morrow, +they spent the amount of courage necessary to cross the river in +building that asylum of a night, in making one meal that they +themselves doomed to be their last. The death that awaited them they +considered no evil, provided they could have that one night's sleep. +They thought nothing evil but hunger, thirst, and cold. When there was +no more wood or food or fire, horrible struggles took place between +fresh-comers and the rich who possessed a shelter. The weakest +succumbed. + +At last there came a moment when a number, pursued by the Russians, +found only snow on which to bivouac, and these lay down to rise no +more. Insensibly this mass of almost annihilated beings became so +compact, so deaf, so torpid, so happy perhaps, that Marechal Victor, +who had been their heroic defender by holding twenty thousand Russians +under Wittgenstein at bay, was forced to open a passage by main force +through this forest of men in order to cross the Beresina with five +thousand gallant fellows whom he was taking to the emperor. The +unfortunate malingerers allowed themselves to be crushed rather than +stir; they perished in silence, smiling at their extinguished fires, +without a thought of France. + +It was not until ten o'clock that night that Marechal Victor reached +the bank of the river. Before crossing the bridge which led to Zembin, +he confided the fate of his own rear-guard now left in Studzianka to +Eble, the savior of all those who survived the calamities of the +Beresina. It was towards midnight when this great general, followed by +one brave officer, left the cabin he occupied near the bridge, and +studied the spectacle of that improvised camp placed between the bank +of the river and Studzianka. The Russian cannon had ceased to thunder. +Innumerable fires, which, amid that trackless waste of snow, burned +pale and scarcely sent out any gleams, illumined here and there by +sudden flashes forms and faces that were barely human. Thirty thousand +poor wretches, belonging to all nations, from whom Napoleon had +recruited his Russian army, were trifling away their lives with +brutish indifference. + +"Let us save them!" said General Eble to the officer who accompanied +him. "To-morrow morning the Russians will be masters of Studzianka. We +must burn the bridge the moment they appear. Therefore, my friend, +take your courage in your hand! Go to the heights. Tell General +Fournier he has barely time to evacuate his position, force a way +through this crowd, and cross the bridge. When you have seen him in +motion follow him. Find men you can trust, and the moment Fournier had +crossed the bridge, burn, without pity, huts, equipages, caissons, +carriages,--EVERYTHING! Drive that mass of men to the bridge. Compel +all that has two legs to get to the other side of the river. The +burning of everything--EVERYTHING--is now our last resource. If +Berthier had let me destroy those damned camp equipages, this river +would swallow only my poor pontoniers, those fifty heroes who will +save the army, but who themselves will be forgotten." + +The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He felt that +Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do justice +to those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of Beresina, +to destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those heroes +still lives--or, to speak more correctly, suffers--in a village, +totally ignored. + +The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer gone a +hundred yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a number of +his weary pontoniers, and began the work,--the charitable work of +burning the bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing the +sleepers, thus dislodged, to cross the river. + +Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without difficulty, the +only wooden house still left standing in Studzianka. + +"This barrack seems pretty full, comrade," he said to a man whom he +saw by the doorway. + +"If you can get in you'll be a clever trooper," replied the officer, +without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the +bark of the logs of which the house was built. + +"Is that you, Philippe?" said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend +by the tones of his voice. + +"Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?" replied Monsieur de Sucy, +looking at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three +years of age. "I thought you were the other side of that cursed river. +What are you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our +dessert? You'll be welcome," and he went on slicing off the bark, +which he gave as a sort of provender to his horse. + +"I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to +make for Zembin. You'll have barely enough time to get through that +crowd of men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and +force them to march." + +"You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two +friends I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be +dead already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don't eat +myself. Have you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours since +anything has gone into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a madman +--just to keep a little warmth and courage in me." + +"Poor Philippe, I have nothing--nothing! But where's your general,--in +this house?" + +"No, don't go there; the place is full of wounded. Go up the street; +you'll find on your left a sort of pig-pen; the general is there. +Good-bye, old fellow. If we ever dance a trenis on a Paris floor--" + +He did not end his sentence; the north wind blew at that moment with +such ferocity that the aide-de-camp hurried on to escape being frozen, +and the lips of Major de Sucy stiffened. Silence reigned, broken only +by the moans which came from the house, and the dull sound made by the +major's horse as it chewed in a fury of hunger the icy bark of the +trees with which the house was built. Monsieur de Sucy replaced his +sabre in its scabbard, took the bridle of the precious horse he had +hitherto been able to preserve, and led it, in spite of the animal's +resistance, from the wretched fodder it appeared to think excellent. + +"We'll start, Bichette, we'll start! There's none but you, my beauty, +who can save Stephanie. Ha! by and bye you and I may be able to rest +--and die," he added. + +Philippe, wrapped in a fur pelisse, to which he owed his preservation +and his energy, began to run, striking his feet hard upon the frozen +snow to keep them warm. Scarcely had he gone a few hundred yards from +the village than he saw a blaze in the direction of the place where, +since morning, he had left his carriage in charge of his former +orderly, an old soldier. Horrible anxiety laid hold of him. Like all +others who were controlled during this fatal retreat by some powerful +sentiment, he found a strength to save his friends which he could not +have put forth to save himself. + +Presently he reached a slight declivity at the foot of which, in a +spot sheltered from the enemy's balls, he had stationed the carriage, +containing a young woman, the companion of his childhood, the being +most dear to him on earth. At a few steps distant from the vehicle he +now found a company of some thirty stragglers collected around an +immense fire, which they were feeding with planks, caisson covers, +wheels, and broken carriages. These soldiers were, no doubt, the last +comers of that crowd who, from the base of the hill of Studzianka to +the fatal river, formed an ocean of heads intermingled with fires and +huts,--a living sea, swayed by motions that were almost imperceptible, +and giving forth a murmuring sound that rose at times to frightful +outbursts. Driven by famine and despair, these poor wretches must have +rifled the carriage before de Sucy reached it. The old general and his +young wife, whom he had left lying in piles of clothes and wrapped in +mantles and pelisses, were now on the snow, crouching before the fire. +One door of the carriage was already torn off. + +No sooner did the men about the fire hear the tread of the major's +horse than a hoarse cry, the cry of famine, arose,-- + +"A horse! a horse!" + +Those voices formed but one voice. + +"Back! back! look out for yourself!" cried two or three soldiers, +aiming at the mare. Philippe threw himself before his animal, crying +out,-- + +"You villains! I'll throw you into your own fire. There are plenty of +dead horses up there. Go and fetch them." + +"Isn't he a joker, that officer! One, two--get out of the way," cried +a colossal grenadier. "No, you won't, hey! Well, as you please, then." + +A woman's cry rose higher than the report of the musket. Philippe +fortunately was not touched, but Bichette, mortally wounded, was +struggling in the throes of death. Three men darted forward and +dispatched her with their bayonets. + +"Cannibals!" cried Philippe, "let me at any rate take the horse-cloth +and my pistols." + +"Pistols, yes," replied the grenadier. "But as for that horse-cloth, +no! here's a poor fellow afoot, with nothing in his stomach for two +days, and shivering in his rags. It is our general." + +Philippe kept silence as he looked at the man, whose boots were worn +out, his trousers torn in a dozen places, while nothing but a ragged +fatigue-cap covered with ice was on his head. He hastened, however, to +take his pistols. Five men dragged the mare to the fire, and cut her +up with the dexterity of a Parisian butcher. The pieces were instantly +seized and flung upon the embers. + +The major went up to the young woman, who had uttered a cry on +recognizing him. He found her motionless, seated on a cushion beside +the fire. She looked at him silently, without smiling. Philippe then +saw the soldier to whom he had confided the carriage; the man was +wounded. Overcome by numbers, he had been forced to yield to the +malingerers who attacked him; and, like the dog who defended to the +last possible moment his master's dinner, he had taken his share of +the booty, and was now sitting beside the fire, wrapped in a white +sheet by way of cloak, and turning carefully on the embers a slice of +the mare. Philippe saw upon his face the joy these preparations gave +him. The Comte de Vandieres, who, for the last few days, had fallen +into a state of second childhood, was seated on a cushion beside his +wife, looking fixedly at the fire, which was beginning to thaw his +torpid limbs. He had shown no emotion of any kind, either at +Philippe's danger, or at the fight which ended in the pillage of the +carriage and their expulsion from it. + +At first de Sucy took the hand of the young countess, as if to show +her his affection, and the grief he felt at seeing her reduced to such +utter misery; then he grew silent; seated beside her on a heap of snow +which was turning into a rivulet as it melted, he yielded himself up +to the happiness of being warm, forgetting their peril, forgetting all +things. His face assumed, in spite of himself, an expression of almost +stupid joy, and he waited with impatience until the fragment of the +mare given to his orderly was cooked. The smell of the roasting flesh +increased his hunger, and his hunger silenced his heart, his courage, +and his love. He looked, without anger, at the results of the pillage +of his carriage. All the men seated around the fire had shared his +blankets, cushions, pelisses, robes, also the clothing of the Comte +and Comtesse de Vandieres and his own. Philippe looked about him to +see if there was anything left in or near the vehicle that was worth +saving. By the light of the flames he saw gold and diamonds and plate +scattered everywhere, no one having thought it worth his while to take +any. + +Each of the individuals collected by chance around this fire +maintained a silence that was almost horrible, and did nothing but +what he judged necessary for his own welfare. Their misery was even +grotesque. Faces, discolored by cold, were covered with a layer of +mud, on which tears had made a furrow from the eyes to the beard, +showing the thickness of that miry mask. The filth of their long +beards made these men still more repulsive. Some were wrapped in the +countess's shawls, others wore the trappings of horses and muddy +saddlecloths, or masses of rags from which the hoar-frost hung; some +had a boot on one leg and a shoe on the other; in fact, there were +none whose costume did not present some laughable singularity. But in +presence of such amusing sights the men themselves were grave and +gloomy. The silence was broken only by the snapping of the wood, the +crackling of the flames, the distant murmur of the camps, and the +blows of the sabre given to what remained of Bichette in search of her +tenderest morsels. A few miserable creatures, perhaps more weary than +the rest, were sleeping; when one of their number rolled into the fire +no one attempted to help him out. These stern logicians argued that if +he were not dead his burns would warn him to find a safer place. If +the poor wretch waked in the flames and perished, no one cared. Two or +three soldiers looked at each other to justify their own indifference +by that of others. Twice this scene had taken place before the eyes of +the countess, who said nothing. When the various pieces of Bichette, +placed here and there upon the embers, were sufficiently broiled, each +man satisfied his hunger with the gluttony that disgusts us when we +see it in animals. + +"This is the first time I ever saw thirty infantrymen on one horse," +cried the grenadier who had shot the mare. + +It was the only jest made that night which proved the national +character. + +Soon the great number of these poor soldiers wrapped themselves in +what they could find and lay down on planks, or whatever would keep +them from contact with the snow, and slept, heedless of the morrow. +When the major was warm, and his hunger appeased, an invincible desire +to sleep weighed down his eyelids. During the short moment of his +struggle against that desire he looked at the young woman, who had +turned her face to the fire and was now asleep, leaving her closed +eyes and a portion of her forehead exposed to sight. She was wrapped +in a furred pelisse and a heavy dragoon's cloak; her head rested on a +pillow stained with blood; an astrakhan hood, kept in place by a +handkerchief knotted round her neck, preserved her face from the cold +as much as possible. Her feet were wrapped in the cloak. Thus rolled +into a bundle, as it were, she looked like nothing at all. Was she the +last of the "vivandieres"? Was she a charming woman, the glory of a +lover, the queen of Parisian salons? Alas! even the eye of her most +devoted friend could trace no sign of anything feminine in that mass +of rags and tatters. Love had succumbed to cold in the heart of a +woman! + +Through the thick veils of irresistible sleep, the major soon saw the +husband and wife as mere points or formless objects. The flames of the +fire, those outstretched figures, the relentless cold, waiting, not +three feet distant from that fugitive heat, became all a dream. One +importunate thought terrified Philippe: + +"If I sleep, we shall all die; I will not sleep," he said to himself. + +And yet he slept. + +A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. The sense +of his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his heart. He +uttered a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were alone +afoot. A sea of fire lay before them in the darkness of the night, +licking up the cabins and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, and +imprecations reached their ears; they saw against the flames thousands +of human beings with agonized or furious faces. In the midst of that +hell, a column of soldiers was forcing its way to the bridge, between +two hedges of dead bodies. + +"It is the retreat of the rear-guard!" cried the major. "All hope is +gone!" + +"I have saved your carriage, Philippe," said a friendly voice. + +Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in the +flaring of the flames. + +"Ah! all is lost!" replied the major, "they have eaten my horse; and +how can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?" + +"Take a brand from the fire and threaten them." + +"Threaten the countess!" + +"Good-bye," said the aide-de-camp, "I have scarcely time to get across +that fatal river--and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a night! +These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will allow +themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move on. It +is four o'clock, Philippe! In two hours the Russians will begin to +move. I assure you you will again see the Beresina choked with +corpses. Philippe! think of yourself! You have no horses, you cannot +carry the countess in your arms. Come--come with me!" he said +urgently, pulling de Sucy by the arm. + +"My friend! abandon Stephanie!" + +De Sucy seized the countess, made her stand upright, shook her with +the roughness of a despairing man, and compelled her to wake up. She +looked at him with fixed, dead eyes. + +"You must walk, Stephanie, or we shall all die here." + +For all answer the countess tried to drop again upon the snow and +sleep. The aide-de-camp seized a brand from the fire and waved it in +her face. + +"We will save her in spite of herself!" cried Philippe, lifting the +countess and placing her in the carriage. + +He returned to implore the help of his friend. Together they lifted +the old general, without knowing whether he were dead or alive, and +put him beside his wife. The major then rolled over the men who were +sleeping on his blankets, which he tossed into the carriage, together +with some roasted fragments of his mare. + +"What do you mean to do?" asked the aide-de-camp. + +"Drag them." + +"You are crazy." + +"True," said Philippe, crossing his arms in despair. + +Suddenly, he was seized by a last despairing thought. + +"To you," he said, grasping the sound arm of his orderly, "I confide +her for one hour. Remember that you must die sooner than let any one +approach her." + +The major then snatched up the countess's diamonds, held them in one +hand, drew his sabre with the other, and began to strike with the flat +of its blade such of the sleepers as he thought the most intrepid. He +succeeded in awaking the colossal grenadier, and two other men whose +rank it was impossible to tell. + +"We are done for!" he said. + +"I know it," said the grenadier, "but I don't care." + +"Well, death for death, wouldn't you rather sell your life for a +pretty woman, and take your chances of seeing France?" + +"I'd rather sleep," said a man, rolling over on the snow, "and if you +trouble me again, I'll stick my bayonet into your stomach." + +"What is the business, my colonel?" said the grenadier. "That man is +drunk; he's a Parisian; he likes his ease." + +"That is yours, my brave grenadier," cried the major, offering him a +string of diamonds, "if you will follow me and fight like a madman. +The Russians are ten minutes' march from here; they have horses; we +are going up to their first battery for a pair." + +"But the sentinels?" + +"One of us three--" he interrupted himself, and turned to the +aide-de-camp. "You will come, Hippolyte, won't you?" + +Hippolyte nodded. + +"One of us," continued the major, "will take care of the sentinel. +Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed Russians." + +"Forward! major, you're a brave one! But you'll give me a lift on your +carriage?" said the grenadier. + +"Yes, if you don't leave your skin up there-- If I fall, Hippolyte, +and you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the +countess." + +"Agreed!" cried the grenadier. + +They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which +had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river. +A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow, +and the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above +the heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet +that their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his +anvil. The generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier +was safe and sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a +bayonet in his shoulder; but he clung to his horse's mane, and clasped +him so tightly with his knees that the animal was held as in a vice. + +"God be praised!" cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and +the carriage in its place. + +"If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this," +said the man. "We've played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can +tell you." + +"We have done nothing yet-- Harness the horses. Take these ropes." + +"They are not long enough." + +"Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen, +to eke out." + +"Tiens! that's one dead," said the grenadier, stripping the first man +he came to. "Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!" + +"All?" + +"Yes, all; seems as if horse-meat must be indigestible if eaten with +snow." + +The words made Philippe tremble. The cold was increasing. + +"My God! to lose the woman I have saved a dozen times!" + +The major shook the countess. + +"Stephanie! Stephanie!" + +The young woman opened her eyes. + +"Madame! we are saved." + +"Saved!" she repeated, sinking down again. + +The horses were harnessed as best they could. The major, holding his +sabre in his well hand, with his pistols in his belt, gathered up the +reins with the other hand and mounted one horse while the grenadier +mounted the other. The orderly, whose feet were frozen, was thrown +inside the carriage, across the general and the countess. Excited by +pricks from a sabre, the horses drew the carriage rapidly, with a sort +of fury, to the plain, where innumerable obstacles awaited it. It was +impossible to force a way without danger of crushing the sleeping men, +women, and even children, who refused to move when the grenadier awoke +them. In vain did Monsieur de Sucy endeavor to find the swathe cut by +the rear-guard through the mass of human beings; it was already +obliterated, like the wake of a vessel through the sea. They could +only creep along, being often stopped by soldiers who threatened to +kill their horses. + +"Do you want to reach the bridge?" said the grenadier. + +"At the cost of my life--at the cost of the whole world!" + +"Then forward, march! you can't make omelets without breaking eggs." + +And the grenadier of the guard urged the horses over men and bivouacs +with bloody wheels and a double line of corpses on either side of +them. We must do him the justice to say that he never spared his +breath in shouting in stentorian tones,-- + +"Look out there, carrion!" + +"Poor wretches!" cried the major. + +"Pooh! that or the cold, that or the cannon," said the grenadier, +prodding the horses, and urging them on. + +A catastrophe, which might well have happened to them much sooner, put +a stop to their advance. The carriage was overturned. + +"I expected it," cried the imperturbable grenadier. "Ho! ho! your man +is dead." + +"Poor Laurent!" said the major. + +"Laurent? Was he in the 5th chasseurs?" + +"Yes." + +"Then he was my cousin. Oh, well, this dog's life isn't happy enough +to waste any joy in grieving for him." + +The carriage could not be raised; the horses were taken out with +serious and, as it proved, irreparable loss of time. The shock of the +overturn was so violent that the young countess, roused from her +lethargy, threw off her coverings and rose. + +"Philippe, where are we?" she cried in a gentle voice, looking about +her. + +"Only five hundred feet from the bridge. We are now going to cross the +Beresina, Stephanie, and once across I will not torment you any more; +you shall sleep; we shall be in safety, and can reach Wilna easily. +-- God grant that she may never know what her life has cost!" he +thought. + +"Philippe! you are wounded!" + +"That is nothing." + +Too late! the fatal hour had come. The Russian cannon sounded the +reveille. Masters of Studzianka, they could sweep the plain, and by +daylight the major could see two of their columns moving and forming +on the heights. A cry of alarm arose from the multitude, who started +to their feet in an instant. Every man now understood his danger +instinctively, and the whole mass rushed to gain the bridge with the +motion of a wave. + +The Russians came down with the rapidity of a conflagration. Men, +women, children, horses,--all rushed tumultuously to the bridge. +Fortunately the major, who was carrying the countess, was still some +distance from it. General Eble had just set fire to the supports on +the other bank. In spite of the warnings shouted to those who were +rushing upon the bridge, not a soul went back. Not only did the bridge +go down crowded with human beings, but the impetuosity of that flood +of men toward the fatal bank was so furious that a mass of humanity +poured itself violently into the river like an avalanche. Not a cry +was heard; the only sound was like the dropping of monstrous stones +into the water. Then the Beresina was a mass of floating corpses. + +The retrograde movement of those who now fell back into the plain to +escape the death before them was so violent, and their concussion +against those who were advancing from the rear so terrible, that +numbers were smothered or trampled to death. The Comte and Comtesse de +Vandieres owed their lives to their carriage, behind which Philippe +forced them, using it as a breastwork. As for the major and the +grenadier, they found their safety in their strength. They killed to +escape being killed. + +This hurricane of human beings, the flux and reflux of living bodies, +had the effect of leaving for a few short moments the whole bank of +the Beresina deserted. The multitude were surging to the plain. If a +few men rushed to the river, it was less in the hope of reaching the +other bank, which to them was France, than to rush from the horrors of +Siberia. Despair proved an aegis to some bold hearts. One officer +sprang from ice-cake to ice-cake, and reached the opposite shore. A +soldier clambered miraculously over mounds of dead bodies and heaps of +ice. The multitude finally comprehended that the Russians would not +put to death a body of twenty thousand men, without arms, torpid, +stupid, unable to defend themselves; and each man awaited his fate +with horrible resignation. Then the major and the grenadier, the +general and his wife, remained almost alone on the river bank, a few +steps from the spot where the bridge had been. They stood there, with +dry eyes, silent, surrounded by heaps of dead. A few sound soldiers, a +few officers to whom the emergency had restored their natural energy, +were near them. This group consisted of some fifty men in all. The +major noticed at a distance of some two hundred yards the remains of +another bridge intended for carriages and destroyed the day before. + +"Let us make a raft!" he cried. + +He had hardly uttered the words before the whole group rushed to the +ruins, and began to pick up iron bolts, and screws, and pieces of wood +and ropes, whatever materials they could find that were suitable for +the construction of a raft. A score of soldiers and officers, who were +armed, formed a guard, commanded by the major, to protect the workers +against the desperate attacks which might be expected from the crowd, +if their scheme was discovered. The instinct of freedom, strong in all +prisoners, inspiring them to miraculous acts, can only be compared +with that which now drove to action these unfortunate Frenchmen. + +"The Russians! the Russians are coming!" cried the defenders to the +workers; and the work went on, the raft increased in length and +breadth and depth. Generals, soldiers, colonel, all put their +shoulders to the wheel; it was a true image of the building of Noah's +ark. The young countess, seated beside her husband, watched the +progress of the work with regret that she could not help it; and yet +she did assist in making knots to secure the cordage. + +At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it on the river, a +dozen others holding the cords which moored it to the shore. But no +sooner had the builders seen their handiwork afloat, than they sprang +from the bank with odious selfishness. The major, fearing the fury of +this first rush, held back the countess and the general, but too late +he saw the whole raft covered, men pressing together like crowds at a +theatre. + +"Savages!" he cried, "it was I who gave you the idea of that raft. I +have saved you, and you deny me a place." + +A confused murmur answered him. The men at the edge of the raft, armed +with long sticks, pressed with violence against the shore to send off +the frail construction with sufficient impetus to force its way +through corpses and ice-floes to the other shore. + +"Thunder of heaven! I'll sweep you into the water if you don't take +the major and his two companions," cried the stalwart grenadier, who +swung his sabre, stopped the departure, and forced the men to stand +closer in spite of furious outcries. + +"I shall fall,"--"I am falling,"--"Push off! push off!--Forward!" +resounded on all sides. + +The major looked with haggard eyes at Stephanie, who lifted hers to +heaven with a feeling of sublime resignation. + +"To die with thee!" she said. + +There was something even comical in the position of the men in +possession of the raft. Though they were uttering awful groans and +imprecations, they dared not resist the grenadier, for in truth they +were so closely packed together, that a push to one man might send +half of them overboard. This danger was so pressing that a cavalry +captain endeavored to get rid of the grenadier; but the latter, seeing +the hostile movement of the officer, seized him round the waist and +flung him into the water, crying out,-- + +"Ha! ha! my duck, do you want to drink? Well, then, drink!-- Here are +two places," he cried. "Come, major, toss me the little woman and +follow yourself. Leave that old fossil, who'll be dead by to-morrow." + +"Make haste!" cried the voice of all, as one man. + +"Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do so." + +The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed himself in +his general's uniform. + +"Let us save the count," said Philippe. + +Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his breast, she +clasped him tightly. + +"Adieu!" she said. + +They had understood each other. + +The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and presence of +mind to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, after +turning a last look to Philippe. + +"Major! will you take my place? I don't care a fig for life," cried +the grenadier. "I've neither wife nor child nor mother." + +"I confide them to your care," said the major, pointing to the count +and his wife. + +"Then be easy; I'll care for them, as though they were my very eyes." + +The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the opposite +side of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt by +all. The count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and fell +into the river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and cut +off his head, flinging it to a great distance. + +"See there! major!" cried the grenadier. + +"Adieu!" said a woman's voice. + +Philippe de Sucy fell to the ground, overcome with horror and fatigue. + + + + CHAPTER III + + THE CURE + +"My poor niece became insane," continued the physician, after a few +moment's silence. "Ah! monsieur," he said, seizing the marquis's hand, +"life has been awful indeed for that poor little woman, so young, so +delicate! After being, by dreadful fatality, separated from the +grenadier, whose name was Fleuriot, she was dragged about for two +years at the heels of the army, the plaything of a crowd of wretches. +She was often, they tell me, barefooted, and scarcely clothed; for +months together, she had no care, no food but what she could pick up; +sometimes kept in hospitals, sometimes driven away like an animal, God +alone knows the horrors that poor unfortunate creature has survived. +She was locked up in a madhouse, in a little town in Germany, at the +time her relatives, thinking her dead, divided her property. In 1816, +the grenadier Fleuriot was at an inn in Strasburg, where she went +after making her escape from the madhouse. Several peasants told the +grenadier that she had lived for a whole month in the forest, where +they had tracked her in vain, trying to catch her, but she had always +escaped them. I was then staying a few miles from Strasburg. Hearing +much talk of a wild woman caught in the woods, I felt a desire to +ascertain the truth of the ridiculous stories which were current about +her. What were my feelings on beholding my own niece! Fleuriot told me +all he knew of her dreadful history. I took the poor man with my niece +back to my home in Auvergne, where, unfortunately, I lost him some +months later. He had some slight control over Madame de Vandieres; he +alone could induce her to wear clothing. 'Adieu,' that word, which is +her only language, she seldom uttered at that time. Fleuriot had +endeavored to awaken in her a few ideas, a few memories of the past; +but he failed; all that he gained was to make her say that melancholy +word a little oftener. Still, the grenadier knew how to amuse her and +play with her; my hope was in him, but--" + +He was silent for a moment. + +"Here," he continued, "she has found another creature, with whom she +seems to have some strange understanding. It is a poor idiotic +peasant-girl, who, in spite of her ugliness and stupidity, loved a +man, a mason. The mason was willing to marry her, as she had some +property. Poor Genevieve was happy for a year; she dressed in her best +to dance with her lover on Sunday; she comprehended love; in her heart +and soul there was room for that one sentiment. But the mason, Dallot, +reflected. He found a girl with all her senses, and more land than +Genevieve, and he deserted the poor creature. Since then she has lost +the little intellect that love developed in her; she can do nothing +but watch the cows, or help at harvesting. My niece and this poor girl +are friends, apparently by some invisible chain of their common +destiny, by the sentiment in each which has caused their madness. +See!" added Stephanie's uncle, leading the marquis to a window. + +The latter then saw the countess seated on the ground between +Genevieve's legs. The peasant-girl, armed with a huge horn comb, was +giving her whole attention to the work of disentangling the long black +hair of the poor countess, who was uttering little stifled cries, +expressive of some instinctive sense of pleasure. Monsieur d'Albon +shuddered as he saw the utter abandonment of the body, the careless +animal ease which revealed in the hapless woman a total absence of +soul. + +"Philippe, Philippe!" he muttered, "the past horrors are nothing!--Is +there no hope?" he asked. + +The old physician raised his eyes to heaven. + +"Adieu, monsieur," said the marquis, pressing his hand. "My friend is +expecting me. He will soon come to you." + +"Then it was really she!" cried de Sucy at d'Albon's first words. "Ah! +I still doubted it," he added, a few tears falling from his eyes, +which were habitually stern. + +"Yes, it is the Comtesse de Vandieres," replied the marquis. + +The colonel rose abruptly from his bed and began to dress. + +"Philippe!" cried his friend, "are you mad?" + +"I am no longer ill," replied the colonel, simply. "This news has +quieted my suffering. What pain can I feel when I think of Stephanie? +I am going to the Bons-Hommes, to see her, speak to her, cure her. She +is free. Well, happiness will smile upon us--or Providence is not in +this world. Think you that that poor woman could hear my voice and not +recover reason?" + +"She has already seen you and not recognized you," said his friend, +gently, for he felt the danger of Philippe's excited hopes, and tried +to cast a salutary doubt upon them. + +The colonel quivered; then he smiled, and made a motion of +incredulity. No one dared to oppose his wish, and within a very short +time he reached the old priory. + +"Where is she?" he cried, on arriving. + +"Hush!" said her uncle, "she is sleeping. See, here she is." + +Philippe then saw the poor insane creature lying on a bench in the +sun. Her head was protected from the heat by a forest of hair which +fell in tangled locks over her face. Her arms hung gracefully to the +ground; her body lay easily posed like that of a doe; her feet were +folded under her without effort; her bosom rose and fell at regular +intervals; her skin, her complexion, had that porcelain whiteness, +which we admire so much in the clear transparent faces of children. +Standing motionless beside her, Genevieve held in her hand a branch +which Stephanie had doubtless climbed a tall poplar to obtain, and the +poor idiot was gently waving it above her sleeping companion, to chase +away the flies and cool the atmosphere. + +The peasant-woman gazed at Monsieur Fanjat and the colonel; then, like +an animal which recognizes its master, she turned her head slowly to +the countess, and continued to watch her, without giving any sign of +surprise or intelligence. The air was stifling; the stone bench +glittered in the sunlight; the meadow exhaled to heaven those impish +vapors which dance and dart above the herbage like silvery dust; but +Genevieve seemed not to feel this all-consuming heat. + +The colonel pressed the hand of the doctor violently in his own. Tears +rolled from his eyes along his manly cheeks, and fell to the earth at +the feet of his Stephanie. + +"Monsieur," said the uncle, "for two years past, my heart is broken +day by day. Soon you will be like me. You may not always weep, but you +will always feel your sorrow." + +The two men understood each other; and again, pressing each other's +hands, they remained motionless, contemplating the exquisite calmness +which sleep had cast upon that graceful creature. From time to time +she gave a sigh, and that sigh, which had all the semblance of +sensibilities, made the unhappy colonel tremble with hope. + +"Alas!" said Monsieur Fanjat, "do not deceive yourself, monsieur; +there is no meaning in her sigh." + +Those who have ever watched for hours with delight the sleep of one +who is tenderly beloved, whose eyes will smile to them at waking, can +understand the sweet yet terrible emotion that shook the colonel's +soul. To him, this sleep was an illusion; the waking might be death, +death in its most awful form. Suddenly, a little goat jumped in three +bounds to the bench, and smelt at Stephanie, who waked at the sound. +She sprang to her feet, but so lightly that the movement did not +frighten the freakish animal; then she caught sight of Philippe, and +darted away, followed by her four-footed friend, to a hedge of elders; +there she uttered the same little cry like a frightened bird, which +the two men had heard near the other gate. Then she climbed an acacia, +and nestling into its tufted top, she watched the stranger with the +inquisitive attention of the forest birds. + +"Adieu, adieu, adieu," she said, without the soul communicating one +single intelligent inflexion to the word. + +It was uttered impassively, as the bird sings his note. + +"She does not recognize me!" cried the colonel, in despair. +"Stephanie! it is Philippe, thy Philippe, PHILIPPE!" + +And the poor soldier went to the acacia; but when he was a few steps +from it, the countess looked at him, as if defying him, although a +slight expression of fear seemed to flicker in her eye; then, with a +single bound she sprang from the acacia to a laburnum, and thence to a +Norway fir, where she darted from branch to branch with extraordinary +agility. + +"Do not pursue her," said Monsieur Fanjat to the colonel, "or you will +arouse an aversion which might become insurmountable. I will help you +to tame her and make her come to you. Let us sit on this bench. If you +pay no attention to her, she will come of her own accord to examine +you." + +"SHE! not to know me! to flee me!" repeated the colonel, seating +himself on a bench with his back to a tree that shaded it, and letting +his head fall upon his breast. + +The doctor said nothing. Presently, the countess came gently down the +fir-tree, letting herself swing easily on the branches, as the wind +swayed them. At each branch she stopped to examine the stranger; but +seeing him motionless, she at last sprang to the ground and came +slowly towards him across the grass. When she reached a tree about ten +feet distant, against which she leaned, Monsieur Fanjat said to the +colonel in a low voice,-- + +"Take out, adroitly, from my right hand pocket some lumps of sugar you +will feel there. Show them to her, and she will come to us. I will +renounce in your favor my sole means of giving her pleasure. With +sugar, which she passionately loves, you will accustom her to approach +you, and to know you again." + +"When she was a woman," said Philippe, sadly, "she had no taste for +sweet things." + +When the colonel showed her the lump of sugar, holding it between the +thumb and forefinger of his right hand, she again uttered her little +wild cry, and sprang toward him; then she stopped, struggling against +the instinctive fear he caused her; she looked at the sugar and turned +away her head alternately, precisely like a dog whose master forbids +him to touch his food until he has said a letter of the alphabet which +he slowly repeats. At last the animal desire triumphed over fear. +Stephanie darted to Philippe, cautiously putting out her little brown +hand to seize the prize, touched the fingers of her poor lover as she +snatched the sugar, and fled away among the trees. This dreadful scene +overcame the colonel; he burst into tears and rushed into the house. + +"Has love less courage than friendship?" Monsieur Fanjat said to him. +"I have some hope, Monsieur le baron. My poor niece was in a far worse +state than that in which you now find her." + +"How was that possible?" cried Philippe. + +"She went naked," replied the doctor. + +The colonel made a gesture of horror and turned pale. The doctor saw +in that sudden pallor alarming symptoms; he felt the colonel's pulse, +found him in a violent fever, and half persuaded, half compelled him +to go to bed. Then he gave him a dose of opium to ensure a calm sleep. + +Eight days elapsed, during which Colonel de Sucy struggled against +mortal agony; tears no longer came to his eyes. His soul, often +lacerated, could not harden itself to the sight of Stephanie's +insanity; but he covenanted, so to speak, with his cruel situation, +and found some assuaging of his sorrow. He had the courage to slowly +tame the countess by bringing her sweetmeats; he took such pains in +choosing them, and he learned so well how to keep the little conquests +he sought to make upon her instincts--that last shred of her intellect +--that he ended by making her much TAMER than she had ever been. + +Every morning he went into the park, and if, after searching for her +long, he could not discover on what tree she was swaying, nor the +covert in which she crouched to play with a bird, nor the roof on +which she might have clambered, he would whistle the well-known air of +"Partant pour la Syrie," to which some tender memory of their love +attached. Instantly, Stephanie would run to him with the lightness of +a fawn. She was now so accustomed to see him, that he frightened her +no longer. Soon she was willing to sit upon his knee, and clasp him +closely with her thin and agile arm. In that attitude--so dear to +lovers!--Philippe would feed her with sugarplums. Then, having eaten +those that he gave her, she would often search his pockets with +gestures that had all the mechanical velocity of a monkey's motions. +When she was very sure there was nothing more, she looked at Philippe +with clear eyes, without ideas, with recognition. Then she would play +with him, trying at times to take off his boots to see his feet, +tearing his gloves, putting on his hat; she would even let him pass +his hands through her hair, and take her in his arms; she accepted, +but without pleasure, his ardent kisses. She would look at him +silently, without emotion, when his tears flowed; but she always +understood his "Partant pour la Syrie," when he whistled it, though he +never succeeded in teaching her to say her own name Stephanie. + +Philippe was sustained in his agonizing enterprise by hope, which +never abandoned him. When, on fine autumn mornings, he found the +countess sitting peacefully on a bench, beneath a poplar now +yellowing, the poor lover would sit at her feet, looking into her eyes +as long as she would let him, hoping ever that the light that was in +them would become intelligent. Sometimes the thought deluded him that +he saw those hard immovable rays softening, vibrating, living, and he +cried out,-- + +"Stephanie! Stephanie! thou hearest me, thou seest me!" + +But she listened to that cry as to a noise, the soughing of the wind +in the tree-tops, or the lowing of the cow on the back of which she +climbed. Then the colonel would wring his hands in despair,--despair +that was new each day. + +One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of that +rural haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel was +loading his pistols. The old man felt then that the young man had +ceased to hope; he felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if he +conquered the vertigo that threatened him, it was because he would +rather see his niece living and mad than dead. He hastened up. + +"What are you doing?" he said. + +"That is for me," replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol already +loaded, which was lying on the bench; "and this is for her," he added, +as he forced the wad into the weapon he held. + +The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with the +balls. + +"Then you do not know," said the doctor, coldly, concealing his +terror, "that in her sleep last night she called you: Philippe!" + +"She called me!" cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which Stephanie +picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that was on +the bench, and rushed away. + +"Poor darling!" said the doctor, happy in the success of his lie. He +pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking to +himself: "He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he suffers. +He does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do we +not? He is mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. No, +God alone should call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we pity thee +because thou canst not share our sorrows, fools that we are!--But," he +said, sitting down and taking her on his knee, "nothing troubles thee; +thy life is like that of a bird, of a fawn--" + +As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was hopping near +them, caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled it, +looked at it, dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of a +tree without a thought. + +The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down into the +gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,--he believed in the coming +happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to him, +he took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first time, +and he led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of which +was dropping to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own accord +Stephanie placed herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with joy. + +"Love," he said, kissing her hands passionately, "I am Philippe." + +She looked at him with curiosity. + +"Come," he said, pressing her to him, "dost thou feel my heart? It has +beaten for thee alone. I love thee ever. Philippe is not dead; he is +not dead, thou art on him, in his arms. Thou art MY Stephanie; I am +thy Philippe." + +"Adieu," she said, "adieu." + +The colonel quivered, for he fancied he saw his own excitement +communicated to his mistress. His heart-rending cry, drawn from him by +despair, that last effort of an eternal love, of a delirious passion, +was successful, the mind of his darling was awaking. + +"Ah! Stephanie! Stephanie! we shall yet be happy." + +She gave a cry of satisfaction, and her eyes brightened with a flash +of vague intelligence. + +"She knows me!--Stephanie!" + +His heart swelled; his eyelids were wet with tears. Then, suddenly, +the countess showed him a bit of sugar she had found in his pocket +while he was speaking to her. He had mistaken for human thought the +amount of reason required for a monkey's trick. Philippe dropped to +the ground unconscious. Monsieur Fanjat found the countess sitting on +the colonel's body. She was biting her sugar, and testifying her +pleasure by pretty gestures and affectations with which, had she her +reason, she might have imitated her parrot or her cat. + +"Ah! my friend," said Philippe, when he came to his senses, "I die +every day, every moment! I love too well! I could still bear all, if, +in her madness, she had kept her woman's nature. But to see her always +a savage, devoid even of modesty, to see her--" + +"You want opera madness, do you? something picturesque and pleasing," +said the doctor, bitterly. "Your love and your devotion yield before a +prejudice. Monsieur, I have deprived myself for your sake of the sad +happiness of watching over my niece; I have left to you the pleasure +of playing with her; I have kept for myself the heaviest cares. While +you have slept, I have watched, I have-- Go, monsieur, go! abandon +her! leave this sad refuge. I know how to live with that dear darling +creature; I comprehend her madness, I watch her gestures, I know her +secrets. Some day you will thank me for thus sending you away." + +The colonel left the old monastery, never to return but once. The +doctor was horrified when he saw the effect he had produced upon his +guest, whom he now began to love when he saw him thus. Surely, if +either of the two lovers were worthy of pity, it was Philippe; did he +not bear alone the burden of their dreadful sorrow? + +After the colonel's departure the doctor kept himself informed about +him; he learned that the miserable man was living on an estate near +Saint-Germain. In truth, the baron, on the faith of a dream, had +formed a project which he believed would yet restore the mind of his +darling. Unknown to the doctor, he spent the rest of the autumn in +preparing for his enterprise. A little river flowed through his park +and inundated during the winter the marshes on either side of it, +giving it some resemblance to the Beresina. The village of Satout, on +the heights above, closed in, like Studzianka, the scene of horror. +The colonel collected workmen to deepen the banks, and by the help of +his memory, he copied in his park the shore where General Eble +destroyed the bridge. He planted piles, and made buttresses and burned +them, leaving their charred and blackened ruins, standing in the water +from shore to shore. Then he gathered fragments of all kinds, like +those of which the raft was built. He ordered dilapidated uniforms and +clothing of every grade, and hired hundreds of peasants to wear them; +he erected huts and cabins for the purpose of burning them. In short, +he forgot nothing that might recall that most awful of all scenes, and +he succeeded. + +Toward the last of December, when the snow had covered with its thick, +white mantle all his imitative preparations, he recognized the +Beresina. This false Russia was so terribly truthful, that several of +his army comrades recognized the scene of their past misery at once. +Monsieur de Sucy took care to keep secret the motive for this tragic +imitation, which was talked of in several Parisian circles as a proof +of insanity. + +Early in January, 1820, the colonel drove in a carriage, the very +counterpart of the one in which he had driven the Comte and Comtesse +de Vandieres from Moscow to Studzianka. The horses, too, were like +those he had gone, at the peril of his life, to fetch from the Russian +outposts. He himself wore the soiled fantastic clothing, the same +weapons, as on the 29th of November, 1812. He had let his beard grow, +also his hair, which was tangled and matted, and his face was +neglected, so that nothing might be wanting to represent the awful +truth. + +"I can guess your purpose," cried Monsieur Fanjat, when he saw the +colonel getting out of the carriage. "If you want to succeed, do not +let my niece see you in that equipage. To-night I will give her opium. +During her sleep, we will dress her as she was at Studzianka, and +place her in the carriage. I will follow you in another vehicle." + +About two in the morning, the sleeping countess was placed in the +carriage and wrapped in heavy coverings. A few peasants with torches +lighted up this strange abduction. Suddenly, a piercing cry broke the +silence of the night. Philippe and the doctor turned, and saw +Genevieve coming half-naked from the ground-floor room in which she +slept. + +"Adieu, adieu! all is over, adieu!" she cried, weeping hot tears. + +"Genevieve, what troubles you?" asked the doctor. + +Genevieve shook her head with a motion of despair, raised her arm to +heaven, looked at the carriage, uttering a long-drawn moan with every +sign of the utmost terror; then she returned to her room silently. + +"That is a good omen!" cried the colonel. "She feels she is to lose +her companion. Perhaps she SEES that Stephanie will recover her +reason." + +"God grant it!" said Monsieur Fanjat, who himself was affected by the +incident. + +Ever since he had made a close study of insanity, the good man had met +with many examples of the prophetic faculty and the gift of second +sight, proofs of which are frequently given by alienated minds, and +which may also be found, so travellers say, among certain tribes of +savages. + +As the colonel had calculated, Stephanie crossed the fictitious plain +of the Beresina at nine o'clock in the morning, when she was awakened +by a cannon shot not a hundred yards from the spot where the +experiment was to be tried. This was a signal. Hundreds of peasants +made a frightful clamor like that on the shore of the river that +memorable night, when twenty thousand stragglers were doomed to death +or slavery by their own folly. + +At the cry, at the shot, the countess sprang from the carriage, and +ran, with delirious emotion, over the snow to the banks of the river; +she saw the burned bivouacs and the charred remains of the bridge, and +the fatal raft, which the men were launching into the icy waters of +the Beresina. The major, Philippe, was there, striking back the crowd +with his sabre. Madame de Vandieres gave a cry, which went to all +hearts, and threw herself before the colonel, whose heart beat wildly. +She seemed to gather herself together, and, at first, looked vaguely +at the singular scene. For an instant, as rapid as the lightning's +flash, her eyes had that lucidity, devoid of mind, which we admire in +the eye of birds; then passing her hand across her brow with the keen +expression of one who meditates, she contemplated the living memory of +a past scene spread before her, and, turning quickly to Philippe, she +SAW HIM. An awful silence reigned in the crowd. The colonel gasped, +but dared not speak; the doctor wept. Stephanie's sweet face colored +faintly; then, from tint to tint, it returned to the brightness of +youth, till it glowed with a beautiful crimson. Life and happiness, +lighted by intelligence, came nearer and nearer like a conflagration. +Convulsive trembling rose from her feet to her heart. Then these +phenomena seemed to blend in one as Stephanie's eyes cast forth a +celestial ray, the flame of a living soul. She lived, she thought! She +shuddered, with fear perhaps, for God himself unloosed that silent +tongue, and cast anew His fires into that long-extinguished soul. +Human will came with its full electric torrent, and vivified the body +from which it had been driven. + +"Stephanie!" cried the colonel. + +"Oh! it is Philippe," said the poor countess. + +She threw herself into the trembling arms that the colonel held out to +her, and the clasp of the lovers frightened the spectators. Stephanie +burst into tears. Suddenly her tears stopped, she stiffened as though +the lightning had touched her, and said in a feeble voice,-- + +"Adieu, Philippe; I love thee, adieu!" + +"Oh! she is dead," cried the colonel, opening his arms. + +The old doctor received the inanimate body of his niece, kissed it as +though he were a young man, and carrying it aside, sat down with it +still in his arms on a pile of wood. He looked at the countess and +placed his feeble trembling hand upon her heart. That heart no longer +beat. + +"It is true," he said, looking up at the colonel, who stood +motionless, and then at Stephanie, on whom death was placing that +resplendent beauty, that fugitive halo, which is, perhaps, a pledge of +the glorious future--"Yes, she is dead." + +"Ah! that smile," cried Philippe, "do you see that smile? Can it be +true?" + +"She is turning cold," replied Monsieur Fanjat. + +Monsieur de Sucy made a few steps to tear himself away from the sight; +but he stopped, whistled the air that Stephanie had known, and when +she did not come to him, went on with staggering steps like a drunken +man, still whistling, but never turning back. + +General Philippe de Sucy was thought in the social world to be a very +agreeable man, and above all a very gay one. A few days ago, a lady +complimented him on his good humor, and the charming equability of his +nature. + +"Ah! madame," he said, "I pay dear for my liveliness in my lonely +evenings." + +"Are you ever alone?" she said. + +"No," he replied smiling. + +If a judicious observer of human nature could have seen at that moment +the expression on the Comte de Sucy's face, he would perhaps have +shuddered. + +"Why don't you marry?" said the lady, who had several daughters at +school. "You are rich, titled, and of ancient lineage; you have +talents, and a great future before you; all things smile upon you." + +"Yes," he said, "but a smile kills me." + +The next day the lady heard with great astonishment that Monsieur de +Sucy had blown his brains out during the night. The upper ranks of +society talked in various ways over this extraordinary event, and each +person looked for the cause of it. According to the proclivities of +each reasoner, play, love, ambition, hidden disorders, and vices, +explained the catastrophe, the last scene of a drama begun in 1812. +Two men alone, a marquis and former deputy, and an aged physician, +knew that Philippe de Sucy was one of those strong men to whom God has +given the unhappy power of issuing daily in triumph from awful combats +which they fight with an unseen monster. If, for a moment, God +withdraws from such men His all-powerful hand, they succumb. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personage appears in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Note: Adieu is also entitled Farewell. + +Granville, Vicomte de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Second Home + Farewell (Adieu) + Cesar Birotteau + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + A Daughter of Eve + Cousin Pons + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + +***** This file should be named 1554.txt or 1554.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/5/5/1554/ + +Produced by John Bickers, and Dagny + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz +and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com + + + + + +ADIEU + +by HONORE DE BALZAC + + + +Translated By +Katharine Prescott Wormeley + + + +DEDICATION + +To Prince Frederic Schwartzenburg. + + + + + +ADIEU + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN OLD MONASTERY + +"Come, deputy of the Centre, forward! Quick step! march! if we want to +be in time to dine with the others. Jump, marquis! there, that's +right! why, you can skip across a stubble-field like a deer!" + +These words were said by a huntsman peacefully seated at the edge of +the forest of Ile-Adam, who was finishing an Havana cigar while +waiting for his companion, who had lost his way in the tangled +underbrush of the wood. At his side four panting dogs were watching, +as he did, the personage he addressed. To understand how sarcastic +were these exhortations, repeated at intervals, we should state that +the approaching huntsman was a stout little man whose protuberant +stomach was the evidence of a truly ministerial "embonpoint." He was +struggling painfully across the furrows of a vast wheat-field recently +harvested, the stubble of which considerably impeded him; while to add +to his other miseries the sun's rays, striking obliquely on his face, +collected an abundance of drops of perspiration. Absorbed in the +effort to maintain his equilibrium, he leaned, now forward, now back, +in close imitation of the pitching of a carriage when violently +jolted. The weather looked threatening. Though several spaces of blue +sky still parted the thick black clouds toward the horizon, a flock of +fleecy vapors were advancing with great rapidity and drawing a light +gray curtain from east to west. As the wind was acting only on the +upper region of the air, the atmosphere below it pressed down the hot +vapors of the earth. Surrounded by masses of tall trees, the valley +through which the hunter struggled felt like a furnace. Parched and +silent, the forest seemed thirsty. The birds, even the insects, were +voiceless; the tree-tops scarcely waved. Those persons who may still +remember the summer of 1819 can imagine the woes of the poor deputy, +who was struggling along, drenched in sweat, to regain his mocking +friend. The latter, while smoking his cigar, had calculated from the +position of the sun that it must be about five in the afternoon. + +"Where the devil are we?" said the stout huntsman, mopping his +forehead and leaning against the trunk of a tree nearly opposite to +his companion, for he felt unequal to the effort of leaping the ditch +between them. + +"That's for me to ask you," said the other, laughing, as he lay among +the tall brown brake which crowned the bank. Then, throwing the end of +his cigar into the ditch, he cried out vehemently: "I swear by Saint +Hubert that never again will I trust myself in unknown territory with +a statesman, though he be, like you, my dear d'Albon, a college mate." + +"But, Philippe, have you forgotten your French? Or have you left your +wits in Siberia?" replied the stout man, casting a sorrowfully comic +look at a sign-post about a hundred feet away. + +"True, true," cried Philippe, seizing his gun and springing with a +bound into the field and thence to the post. "This way, d'Albon, this +way," he called back to his friend, pointing to a broad paved path and +reading aloud the sign: "'From Baillet to Ile-Adam.' We shall +certainly find the path to Cassan, which must branch from this one +between here and Ile-Adam." + +"You are right, colonel," said Monsieur d'Albon, replacing upon his +head the cap with which he had been fanning himself. + +"Forward then, my respectable privy councillor," replied Colonel +Philippe, whistling to the dogs, who seemed more willing to obey him +than the public functionary to whom they belonged. + +"Are you aware, marquis," said the jeering soldier, "that we still +have six miles to go? That village over there must be Baillet." + +"Good heavens!" cried the marquis, "go to Cassan if you must, but +you'll go alone. I prefer to stay here, in spite of the coming storm, +and wait for the horse you can send me from the chateau. You've played +me a trick, Sucy. We were to have had a nice little hunt not far from +Cassan, and beaten the coverts I know. Instead of that, you have kept +me running like a hare since four o'clock this morning, and all I've +had for breakfast is a cup of milk. Now, if you ever have a petition +before the Court, I'll make you lose it, however just your claim." + +The poor discouraged huntsman sat down on a stone that supported the +signpost, relieved himself of his gun and his gamebag, and heaved a +long sigh. + +"France! such are thy deputies!" exclaimed Colonel de Sucy, laughing. +"Ah! my poor d'Albon, if you had been like me six years in the wilds +of Siberia--" + +He said no more, but he raised his eyes to heaven as if that anguish +were between himself and God. + +"Come, march on!" he added. "If you sit still you are lost." + +"How can I, Philippe? It is an old magisterial habit to sit still. On +my honor! I'm tired out-- If I had only killed a hare!" + +The two men presented a rather rare contrast: the public functionary +was forty-two years of age and seemed no more than thirty, whereas the +soldier was thirty, and seemed forty at the least. Both wore the red +rosette of the officers of the Legion of honor. A few spare locks of +black hair mixed with white, like the wing of a magpie, escaped from +the colonel's cap, while handsome brown curls adorned the brow of the +statesman. One was tall, gallant, high-strung, and the lines of his +pallid face showed terrible passions or frightful griefs. The other +had a face that was brilliant with health, and jovially worth of an +epicurean. Both were deeply sun-burned, and their high gaiters of +tanned leather showed signs of the bogs and the thickets they had just +come through. + +"Come," said Monsieur de Sucy, "let us get on. A short hour's march, +and we shall reach Cassan in time for a good dinner." + +"It is easy to see you have never loved," replied the councillor, with +a look that was pitifully comic; "you are as relentless as article 304 +of the penal code." + +Philippe de Sucy quivered; his broad brow contracted; his face became +as sombre as the skies above them. Some memory of awful bitterness +distorted for a moment his features, but he said nothing. Like all +strong men, he drove down his emotions to the depths of his heart; +thinking perhaps, as simple characters are apt to think, that there +was something immodest in unveiling griefs when human language cannot +render their depths and may only rouse the mockery of those who do not +comprehend them. Monsieur d'Albon had one of those delicate natures +which divine sorrows, and are instantly sympathetic to the emotion +they have involuntarily aroused. He respected his friend's silence, +rose, forgot his fatigue, and followed him silently, grieved to have +touched a wound that was evidently not healed. + +"Some day, my friend," said Philippe, pressing his hand, and thanking +him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, "I will relate to +you my life. To-day I cannot." + +They continued their way in silence. When the colonel's pain seemed +soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, or +rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very depths of +the forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the branching +paths, hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask +hospitality. Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a slight +smoke rising among the trees; he stopped, looked more attentively, and +saw, in the midst of a vast copse, the dark-green branches of several +pine-trees. + +"A house! a house!" he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in crying +"Land!" + +Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who had fallen +into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically. + +"I'd rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair here," he +said, "than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux." + +These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from the +councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of which +glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree trunks. + +"Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory," cried the +marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through which +they could see, in the midst of a large park, a building constructed +in the style of the monasteries of old. "How those rascals the monks +knew how to choose their sites!" + +This last exclamation was an expression of surprise and pleasure at +the poetical hermitage which met his eyes. The house stood on the +slope of the mountain, at the summit of which is the village of +Nerville. The great centennial oaks of the forest which encircled the +dwelling made the place an absolute solitude. The main building, +formerly occupied by the monks, faced south. The park seemed to have +about forty acres. Near the house lay a succession of green meadows, +charmingly crossed by several clear rivulets, with here and there a +piece of water naturally placed without the least apparent artifice. +Trees of elegant shape and varied foliage were distributed about. +Grottos, cleverly managed, and massive terraces with dilapidated steps +and rusty railings, gave a peculiar character to this lone retreat. +Art had harmonized her constructions with the picturesque effects of +nature. Human passions seemed to die at the feet of those great trees, +which guarded this asylum from the tumult of the world as they shaded +it from the fires of the sun. + +"How desolate!" thought Monsieur d'Albon, observing the sombre +expression which the ancient building gave to the landscape, gloomy as +though a curse were on it. It seemed a fatal spot deserted by man. Ivy +had stretched its tortuous muscles, covered by its rich green mantle, +everywhere. Brown or green, red or yellow mosses and lichen spread +their romantic tints on trees and seats and roofs and stones. The +crumbling window-casings were hollowed by rain, defaced by time; the +balconies were broken, the terraces demolished. Some of the outside +shutters hung from a single hinge. The rotten doors seemed quite +unable to resist an assailant. Covered with shining tufts of +mistletoe, the branches of the neglected fruit-trees gave no sign of +fruit. Grass grew in the paths. Such ruin and desolation cast a weird +poesy on the scene, filling the souls of the spectators with dreamy +thoughts. A poet would have stood there long, plunged in a melancholy +reverie, admiring this disorder so full of harmony, this destruction +which was not without its grace. Suddenly, the brown tiles shone, the +mosses glittered, fantastic shadows danced upon the meadows and +beneath the trees; fading colors revived; striking contrasts +developed, the foliage of the trees and shrubs defined itself more +clearly in the light. Then--the light went out. The landscape seemed +to have spoken, and now was silent, returning to its gloom, or rather +to the soft sad tones of an autumnal twilight. + +"It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty," said the marquis, beginning +to view the house with the eyes of a land owner. "I wonder to whom it +belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an exquisite +spot." + +At that instant a woman sprang from beneath a chestnut-tree standing +to the right of the gate, and, without making any noise, passed before +the marquis as rapidly as the shadow of a cloud. This vision made him +mute with surprise. + +"Why, Albon, what's the matter?" asked the colonel. + +"I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake," replied the +marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to get +another sight of the phantom. + +"She must be beneath that fig-tree," he said, pointing to the foliage +of a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate. + +"She! who?" + +"How can I tell?" replied Monsieur d'Albon. "A strange woman rose up +there, just before me," he said in a low voice; "she seemed to come +from the world of shades rather than from the land of the living. She +is so slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her face +was as white as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. She +looked at me as she flitted by, and though I may say I'm no coward, +that cold immovable look froze the blood in my veins." + +"Is she pretty?" asked Philippe. + +"I don't know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that face." + +"Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!" cried the colonel. +"Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter that +singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and the +red lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn't the place look to you as +if it belonged to the devil?--perhaps he inherited it from the monks. +Come, let us pursue the black and white lady--forward, march!" cried +Philippe, with forced gaiety. + +At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was something like +that of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a few +shrubs sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking wave. In +vain they listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and kept the +secret of those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved at +all. + +"It is very singular!" said Philippe, as they skirted the park wall. + +The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which led to +the village of Chauvry. After following this path some way toward the +main road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to the +principal facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side the +dilapidation and disorder of the premises had reached their height. +Immense cracks furrowed the walls of the house, which was built on +three sides of a square. Fragments of tiles and slates lying on the +ground, and the dilapidated condition of the roofs, were evidence of a +total want of care on the part of the owners. The fruit had fallen +from the trees and lay rotting on the ground; a cow was feeding on the +lawn and treading down the flowers in the borders, while a goat +browsed on the shoots of the vines and munched the unripe grapes. + +"Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized," said the +colonel, pulling the chain of a bell; but the bell was without a +clapper. + +The huntsmen heard nothing but the curiously sharp noise of a rusty +spring. Though very dilapidated, a little door made in the wall beside +the iron gates resisted all their efforts to open it. + +"Well, well, this is getting to be exciting," said de Sucy to his +companion. + +"If I were not a magistrate," replied Monsieur d'Albon, "I should +think that woman was a witch." + +As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed her +warm muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing human +beings. Then a woman, if that name could be applied to the indefinable +being who suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away the cow +by its rope. This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, beneath +which trailed long locks of hair in color and shape like the flax on a +distaff. She wore no fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black and +gray stripes, too short by several inches, exposed her legs. She might +have belonged to some tribe of Red-Skins described by Cooper, for her +legs, neck, and arms were the color of brick. No ray of intelligence +enlivened her vacant face. A few whitish hairs served her for +eyebrows; the eyes themselves, of a dull blue, were cold and wan; and +her mouth was so formed as to show the teeth, which were crooked, but +as white as those of a dog. + +"Here, my good woman!" called Monsieur de Sucy. + +She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly expression at +the two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful smile +to her face. + +"Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong here?" + +To these questions and several others which the two friends +alternately addressed to her, she answered only with guttural sounds +that seemed more like the growl of an animal than the voice of a human +being. + +"She must be deaf and dumb," said the marquis. + +"Bons-Hommes!" cried the peasant woman. + +"Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the Bons-Hommes," +said the marquis. + +He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the peasant +woman colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of the +cow, which was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two hunters, +examining every part of their clothing; then she yelped, growled, and +clucked, but did not speak. + +"What is your name?" said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as if he +meant to mesmerize her. + +"Genevieve," she said, laughing with a silly air. + +"The cow is the most intelligent being we have seen so far," said the +marquis. "I shall fire my gun and see if that will being some one." + +Just as d'Albon raised his gun, the colonel stopped him with a +gesture, and pointed to the form of a woman, probably the one who had +so keenly piqued his curiosity. At this moment she seemed lost in the +deepest meditation, and was coming with slow steps along a distant +pathway, so that the two friends had ample time to examine her. + +She was dressed in a ragged gown of black satin. Her long hair fell in +masses of curls over her forehead, around her shoulders, and below her +waist, serving her for a shawl. Accustomed no doubt to this disorder, +she seldom pushed her hair from her forehead; and when she did so, it +was with a sudden toss of her head which only for a moment cleared her +forehead and eyes from the thick veil. Her gesture, like that of an +animal, had a remarkable mechanical precision, the quickness of which +seemed wonderful in a woman. The huntsmen were amazed to see her +suddenly leap up on the branch of an apple-tree, and sit there with +the ease of a bird. She gathered an apple and ate it; then she dropped +to the ground with the graceful ease we admire in a squirrel. Her +limbs possessed an elasticity which took from every movement the +slightest appearance of effort or constraint. She played upon the +turf, rolling herself about like a child; then, suddenly, she flung +her feet and hands forward, and lay at full length on the grass, with +the grace and natural ease of a young cat asleep in the sun. Thunder +sounded in the distance, and she turned suddenly, rising on her hands +and knees with the rapidity of a dog which hears a coming footstep. + +The effects of this singular attitude was to separate into two heavy +masses the volume of her black hair, which now fell on either side of +her head, and allowed the two spectators to admire the white shoulders +glistening like daisies in a field, and the throat, the perfection of +which allowed them to judge of the other beauties of her figure. + +Suddenly she uttered a distressful cry and rose to her feet. Her +movements succeeded each other with such airiness and grace that she +seemed not a creature of this world but a daughter of the atmosphere, +as sung in the poems of Ossian. She ran toward a piece of water, shook +one of her legs lightly to cast off her shoe, and began to dabble her +foot, white as alabaster, in the current, admiring, perhaps, the +undulations she thus produced upon the surface of the water. Then she +knelt down at the edge of the stream and amused herself, like a child, +in casting in her long tresses and pulling them abruptly out, to watch +the shower of drops that glittered down, looking, as the sunlight +struck athwart them, like a chaplet of pearls. + +"That woman is mad!" cried the marquis. + +A hoarse cry, uttered by Genevieve, seemed uttered as a warning to the +unknown woman, who turned suddenly, throwing back her hair from either +side of her face. At this instant the colonel and Monsieur d'Albon +could distinctly see her features; she, herself, perceiving the two +friends, sprang to the iron railing with the lightness and rapidity of +a deer. + +"Adieu!" she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, the melody of which +did not convey the slightest feeling or the slightest thought. + +Monsieur d'Albon admired the long lashes of her eyelids, the blackness +of her eyebrows, and the dazzling whiteness of a skin devoid of even +the faintest tinge of color. Tiny blue veins alone broke the +uniformity of its pure white tones. When the marquis turned to his +friend as if to share with him his amazement at the sight of this +singular creature, he found him stretched on the ground as if dead. +D'Albon fired his gun in the air to summon assistance, crying out +"Help! help!" and then endeavored to revive the colonel. At the sound +of the shot, the unknown woman, who had hitherto stood motionless, +fled away with the rapidity of an arrow, uttering cries of fear like a +wounded animal, and running hither and thither about the meadow with +every sign of the greatest terror. + +Monsieur d'Albon, hearing the rumbling of a carriage on the high-road +to Ile-Adam, waved his handkerchief and shouted to its occupants for +assistance. The carriage was immediately driven up to the old +monastery, and the marquis recognized his neighbors, Monsieur and +Madame de Granville, who at once gave up their carriage to the service +of the two gentlemen. Madame de Granville had with her, by chance, a +bottle of salts, which revived the colonel for a moment. When he +opened his eyes he turned them to the meadow, where the unknown woman +was still running and uttering her distressing cries. A smothered +exclamation escaped him, which seemed to express a sense of horror; +then he closed his eyes again, and made a gesture as if to implore his +friend to remove him from that sight. + +Monsieur and Madame de Granville placed their carriage entirely at the +disposal of the marquis, assuring him courteously that they would like +to continue their way on foot. + +"Who is that lady?" asked the marquis, signing toward the unknown +woman. + +"I believe she comes from Moulins," replied Monsieur de Granville. +"She is the Comtesse de Vandieres, and they say she is mad; but as she +has only been here two months I will not vouch for the truth of these +hearsays." + +Monsieur d'Albon thanked his friends, and placing the colonel in the +carriage, started with him for Cassan. + +"It is she!" cried Philippe, recovering his senses. + +"Who is she?" asked d'Albon. + +"Stephanie. Ah, dead and living, living and mad! I fancied I was +dying." + +The prudent marquis, appreciating the gravity of the crisis through +which his friend was passing, was careful not to question or excite +him; he was only anxious to reach the chateau, for the change which +had taken place in the colonel's features, in fact in his whole +person, made him fear for his friend's reason. As soon, therefore, as +the carriage had reached the main street of Ile-Adam, he dispatched +the footman to the village doctor, so that the colonel was no sooner +fairly in his bed at the chateau than the physician was beside him. + +"If monsieur had not been many hours without food the shock would have +killed him," said the doctor. + +After naming the first precautions, the doctor left the room, to +prepare, himself, a calming potion. The next day, Monsieur de Sucy was +better, but the doctor still watched him carefully. + +"I will admit to you, monsieur le marquis," he said, "that I have +feared some affection of the brain. Monsieur de Sucy has received a +violent shock; his passions are strong; but, in him, the first blow +decides all. To-morrow he may be entirely out of danger." + +The doctor was not mistaken; and the following day he allowed the +marquis to see his friend. + +"My dear d'Albon," said Philippe, pressing his hand, "I am going to +ask a kindness of you. Go to the Bons-Hommes, and find out all you can +of the lady we saw there; and return to me as quickly as you can; I +shall count the minutes." + +Monsieur d'Albon mounted his horse at once, and galloped to the old +abbey. When he arrived there, he saw before the iron gate a tall, +spare man with a very kindly face, who answered in the affirmative +when asked if he lived there. Monsieur d'Albon then informed him of +the reasons for his visit. + +"What! monsieur," said the other, "was it you who fired that fatal +shot? You very nearly killed my poor patient." + +"But, monsieur, I fired in the air." + +"You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at her." + +"Then we must not reproach each other, monsieur, for the sight of the +countess has almost killed my friend, Monsieur de Sucy." + +"Heavens! can you mean Baron Philippe de Sucy?" cried the doctor, +clasping his hands. "Did he go to Russia; was he at the passage of the +Beresina?" + +"Yes," replied d'Albon, "he was captured by the Cossacks and kept for +five years in Siberia; he recovered his liberty a few months ago." + +"Come in, monsieur," said the master of the house, leading the marquis +into a room on the lower floor where everything bore the marks of +capricious destruction. The silken curtains beside the windows were +torn, while those of muslin remained intact. + +"You see," said the tall old man, as they entered, "the ravages +committed by that dear creature, to whom I devote myself. She is my +niece; in spite of the impotence of my art, I hope some day to restore +her reason by attempting a method which can only be employed, +unfortunately, by very rich people." + +Then, like all persons living in solitude who are afflicted with an +ever present and ever renewed grief, he related to the marquis at +length the following narrative, which is here condensed, and relieved +of the many digressions made by both the narrator and the listener. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA + +Marechal Victor, when he started, about nine at night, from the +heights of Studzianka, which he had defended, as the rear-guard of the +retreating army, during the whole day of November 28th, 1812, left a +thousand men behind him, with orders to protect to the last possible +moment whichever of the two bridges across the Beresina might still +exist. This rear-guard had devoted itself to the task of saving a +frightful multitude of stragglers overcome by the cold, who +obstinately refused to leave the bivouacs of the army. The heroism of +this generous troop proved useless. The stragglers who flocked in +masses to the banks of the Beresina found there, unhappily, an immense +number of carriages, caissons, and articles of all kinds which the +army had been forced to abandon when effecting its passage of the +river on the 27th and 28th of November. Heirs to such unlooked-for +riches, the unfortunate men, stupid with cold, took up their abode in +the deserted bivouacs, broke up the material which they found there to +build themselves cabins, made fuel of everything that came to hand, +cut up the frozen carcasses of the horses for food, tore the cloth and +the curtains from the carriages for coverlets, and went to sleep, +instead of continuing their way and crossing quietly during the night +that cruel Beresina, which an incredible fatality had already made so +destructive to the army. + +The apathy of these poor soldiers can only be conceived by those who +remember to have crossed vast deserts of snow without other +perspective than a snow horizon, without other drink than snow, +without other bed than snow, without other food than snow or a few +frozen beet-roots, a few handfuls of flour, or a little horseflesh. +Dying of hunger, thirst, fatigue, and want of sleep, these +unfortunates reached a shore where they saw before them wood, +provisions, innumerable camp equipages, and carriages,--in short a +whole town at their service. The village of Studzianka had been wholly +taken to pieces and conveyed from the heights on which it stood to the +plain. However forlorn and dangerous that refuge might be, its +miseries and its perils only courted men who had lately seen nothing +before them but the awful deserts of Russia. It was, in fact, a vast +asylum which had an existence of twenty-four hours only. + +Utter lassitude, and the sense of unexpected comfort, made that mass +of men inaccessible to every thought but that of rest. Though the +artillery of the left wing of the Russians kept up a steady fire on +this mass,--visible like a stain now black, now flaming, in the midst +of the trackless snow,--this shot and shell seemed to the torpid +creatures only one inconvenience the more. It was like a thunderstorm, +despised by all because the lightning strikes so few; the balls struck +only here and there, the dying, the sick, the dead sometimes! +Stragglers arrived in groups continually; but once here those +perambulating corpses separated; each begged for himself a place near +a fire; repulsed repeatedly, they met again, to obtain by force the +hospitality already refused to them. Deaf to the voice of some of +their officers, who warned them of probable destruction on the morrow, +they spent the amount of courage necessary to cross the river in +building that asylum of a night, in making one meal that they +themselves doomed to be their last. The death that awaited them they +considered no evil, provided they could have that one night's sleep. +They thought nothing evil but hunger, thirst, and cold. When there was +no more wood or food or fire, horrible struggles took place between +fresh-comers and the rich who possessed a shelter. The weakest +succumbed. + +At last there came a moment when a number, pursued by the Russians, +found only snow on which to bivouac, and these lay down to rise no +more. Insensibly this mass of almost annihilated beings became so +compact, so deaf, so torpid, so happy perhaps, that Marechal Victor, +who had been their heroic defender by holding twenty thousand Russians +under Wittgenstein at bay, was forced to open a passage by main force +through this forest of men in order to cross the Beresina with five +thousand gallant fellows whom he was taking to the emperor. The +unfortunate malingerers allowed themselves to be crushed rather than +stir; they perished in silence, smiling at their extinguished fires, +without a thought of France. + +It was not until ten o'clock that night that Marechal Victor reached +the bank of the river. Before crossing the bridge which led to Zembin, +he confided the fate of his own rear-guard now left in Studzianka to +Eble, the savior of all those who survived the calamities of the +Beresina. It was towards midnight when this great general, followed by +one brave officer, left the cabin he occupied near the bridge, and +studied the spectacle of that improvised camp placed between the bank +of the river and Studzianka. The Russian cannon had ceased to thunder. +Innumerable fires, which, amid that trackless waste of snow, burned +pale and scarcely sent out any gleams, illumined here and there by +sudden flashes forms and faces that were barely human. Thirty thousand +poor wretches, belonging to all nations, from whom Napoleon had +recruited his Russian army, were trifling away their lives with +brutish indifference. + +"Let us save them!" said General Eble to the officer who accompanied +him. "To-morrow morning the Russians will be masters of Studzianka. We +must burn the bridge the moment they appear. Therefore, my friend, +take your courage in your hand! Go to the heights. Tell General +Fournier he has barely time to evacuate his position, force a way +through this crowd, and cross the bridge. When you have seen him in +motion follow him. Find men you can trust, and the moment Fournier had +crossed the bridge, burn, without pity, huts, equipages, caissons, +carriages,--EVERYTHING! Drive that mass of men to the bridge. Compel +all that has two legs to get to the other side of the river. The +burning of everything--EVERYTHING--is now our last resource. If +Berthier had let me destroy those damned camp equipages, this river +would swallow only my poor pontoniers, those fifty heroes who will +save the army, but who themselves will be forgotten." + +The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He felt that +Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do justice +to those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of Beresina, +to destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those heroes +still lives--or, to speak more correctly, suffers--in a village, +totally ignored. + +The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer gone a +hundred yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a number of +his weary pontoniers, and began the work,--the charitable work of +burning the bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing the +sleepers, thus dislodged, to cross the river. + +Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without difficulty, the +only wooden house still left standing in Studzianka. + +"This barrack seems pretty full, comrade," he said to a man whom he +saw by the doorway. + +"If you can get in you'll be a clever trooper," replied the officer, +without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre the +bark of the logs of which the house was built. + +"Is that you, Philippe?" said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a friend +by the tones of his voice. + +"Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?" replied Monsieur de Sucy, +looking at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only twenty-three +years of age. "I thought you were the other side of that cursed river. +What are you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for our +dessert? You'll be welcome," and he went on slicing off the bark, +which he gave as a sort of provender to his horse. + +"I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General Eble, to +make for Zembin. You'll have barely enough time to get through that +crowd of men below. I am going presently to set fire to their camp and +force them to march." + +"You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have two +friends I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I should be +dead already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don't eat +myself. Have you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours since +anything has gone into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a madman +--just to keep a little warmth and courage in me." + +"Poor Philippe, I have nothing--nothing! But where's your general,--in +this house?" + +"No, don't go there; the place is full of wounded. Go up the street; +you'll find on your left a sort of pig-pen; the general is there. +Good-bye, old fellow. If we ever dance a trenis on a Paris floor--" + +He did not end his sentence; the north wind blew at that moment with +such ferocity that the aide-de-camp hurried on to escape being frozen, +and the lips of Major de Sucy stiffened. Silence reigned, broken only +by the moans which came from the house, and the dull sound made by the +major's horse as it chewed in a fury of hunger the icy bark of the +trees with which the house was built. Monsieur de Sucy replaced his +sabre in its scabbard, took the bridle of the precious horse he had +hitherto been able to preserve, and led it, in spite of the animal's +resistance, from the wretched fodder it appeared to think excellent. + +"We'll start, Bichette, we'll start! There's none but you, my beauty, +who can save Stephanie. Ha! by and bye you and I may be able to rest-- +and die," he added. + +Philippe, wrapped in a fur pelisse, to which he owed his preservation +and his energy, began to run, striking his feet hard upon the frozen +snow to keep them warm. Scarcely had he gone a few hundred yards from +the village than he saw a blaze in the direction of the place where, +since morning, he had left his carriage in charge of his former +orderly, an old soldier. Horrible anxiety laid hold of him. Like all +others who were controlled during this fatal retreat by some powerful +sentiment, he found a strength to save his friends which he could not +have put forth to save himself. + +Presently he reached a slight declivity at the foot of which, in a +spot sheltered from the enemy's balls, he had stationed the carriage, +containing a young woman, the companion of his childhood, the being +most dear to him on earth. At a few steps distant from the vehicle he +now found a company of some thirty stragglers collected around an +immense fire, which they were feeding with planks, caisson covers, +wheels, and broken carriages. These soldiers were, no doubt, the last +comers of that crowd who, from the base of the hill of Studzianka to +the fatal river, formed an ocean of heads intermingled with fires and +huts,--a living sea, swayed by motions that were almost imperceptible, +and giving forth a murmuring sound that rose at times to frightful +outbursts. Driven by famine and despair, these poor wretches must have +rifled the carriage before de Sucy reached it. The old general and his +young wife, whom he had left lying in piles of clothes and wrapped in +mantles and pelisses, were now on the snow, crouching before the fire. +One door of the carriage was already torn off. + +No sooner did the men about the fire hear the tread of the major's +horse than a hoarse cry, the cry of famine, arose,-- + +"A horse! a horse!" + +Those voices formed but one voice. + +"Back! back! look out for yourself!" cried two or three soldiers, +aiming at the mare. Philippe threw himself before his animal, crying +out,-- + +"You villains! I'll throw you into your own fire. There are plenty of +dead horses up there. Go and fetch them." + +"Isn't he a joker, that officer! One, two--get out of the way," cried +a colossal grenadier. "No, you won't, hey! Well, as you please, then." + +A woman's cry rose higher than the report of the musket. Philippe +fortunately was not touched, but Bichette, mortally wounded, was +struggling in the throes of death. Three men darted forward and +dispatched her with their bayonets. + +"Cannibals!" cried Philippe, "let me at any rate take the horse-cloth +and my pistols." + +"Pistols, yes," replied the grenadier. "But as for that horse-cloth, +no! here's a poor fellow afoot, with nothing in his stomach for two +days, and shivering in his rags. It is our general." + +Philippe kept silence as he looked at the man, whose boots were worn +out, his trousers torn in a dozen places, while nothing but a ragged +fatigue-cap covered with ice was on his head. He hastened, however, to +take his pistols. Five men dragged the mare to the fire, and cut her +up with the dexterity of a Parisian butcher. The pieces were instantly +seized and flung upon the embers. + +The major went up to the young woman, who had uttered a cry on +recognizing him. He found her motionless, seated on a cushion beside +the fire. She looked at him silently, without smiling. Philippe then +saw the soldier to whom he had confided the carriage; the man was +wounded. Overcome by numbers, he had been forced to yield to the +malingerers who attacked him; and, like the dog who defended to the +last possible moment his master's dinner, he had taken his share of +the booty, and was now sitting beside the fire, wrapped in a white +sheet by way of cloak, and turning carefully on the embers a slice of +the mare. Philippe saw upon his face the joy these preparations gave +him. The Comte de Vandieres, who, for the last few days, had fallen +into a state of second childhood, was seated on a cushion beside his +wife, looking fixedly at the fire, which was beginning to thaw his +torpid limbs. He had shown no emotion of any kind, either at +Philippe's danger, or at the fight which ended in the pillage of the +carriage and their expulsion from it. + +At first de Sucy took the hand of the young countess, as if to show +her his affection, and the grief he felt at seeing her reduced to such +utter misery; then he grew silent; seated beside her on a heap of snow +which was turning into a rivulet as it melted, he yielded himself up +to the happiness of being warm, forgetting their peril, forgetting all +things. His face assumed, in spite of himself, an expression of almost +stupid joy, and he waited with impatience until the fragment of the +mare given to his orderly was cooked. The smell of the roasting flesh +increased his hunger, and his hunger silenced his heart, his courage, +and his love. He looked, without anger, at the results of the pillage +of his carriage. All the men seated around the fire had shared his +blankets, cushions, pelisses, robes, also the clothing of the Comte +and Comtesse de Vandieres and his own. Philippe looked about him to +see if there was anything left in or near the vehicle that was worth +saving. By the light of the flames he saw gold and diamonds and plate +scattered everywhere, no one having thought it worth his while to take +any. + +Each of the individuals collected by chance around this fire +maintained a silence that was almost horrible, and did nothing but +what he judged necessary for his own welfare. Their misery was even +grotesque. Faces, discolored by cold, were covered with a layer of +mud, on which tears had made a furrow from the eyes to the beard, +showing the thickness of that miry mask. The filth of their long +beards made these men still more repulsive. Some were wrapped in the +countess's shawls, others wore the trappings of horses and muddy +saddlecloths, or masses of rags from which the hoar-frost hung; some +had a boot on one leg and a shoe on the other; in fact, there were +none whose costume did not present some laughable singularity. But in +presence of such amusing sights the men themselves were grave and +gloomy. The silence was broken only by the snapping of the wood, the +crackling of the flames, the distant murmur of the camps, and the +blows of the sabre given to what remained of Bichette in search of her +tenderest morsels. A few miserable creatures, perhaps more weary than +the rest, were sleeping; when one of their number rolled into the fire +no one attempted to help him out. These stern logicians argued that if +he were not dead his burns would warn him to find a safer place. If +the poor wretch waked in the flames and perished, no one cared. Two or +three soldiers looked at each other to justify their own indifference +by that of others. Twice this scene had taken place before the eyes of +the countess, who said nothing. When the various pieces of Bichette, +placed here and there upon the embers, were sufficiently broiled, each +man satisfied his hunger with the gluttony that disgusts us when we +see it in animals. + +"This is the first time I ever saw thirty infantrymen on one horse," +cried the grenadier who had shot the mare. + +It was the only jest made that night which proved the national +character. + +Soon the great number of these poor soldiers wrapped themselves in +what they could find and lay down on planks, or whatever would keep +them from contact with the snow, and slept, heedless of the morrow. +When the major was warm, and his hunger appeased, an invincible desire +to sleep weighed down his eyelids. During the short moment of his +struggle against that desire he looked at the young woman, who had +turned her face to the fire and was now asleep, leaving her closed +eyes and a portion of her forehead exposed to sight. She was wrapped +in a furred pelisse and a heavy dragoon's cloak; her head rested on a +pillow stained with blood; an astrakhan hood, kept in place by a +handkerchief knotted round her neck, preserved her face from the cold +as much as possible. Her feet were wrapped in the cloak. Thus rolled +into a bundle, as it were, she looked like nothing at all. Was she the +last of the "vivandieres"? Was she a charming woman, the glory of a +lover, the queen of Parisian salons? Alas! even the eye of her most +devoted friend could trace no sign of anything feminine in that mass +of rags and tatters. Love had succumbed to cold in the heart of a +woman! + +Through the thick veils of irresistible sleep, the major soon saw the +husband and wife as mere points or formless objects. The flames of the +fire, those outstretched figures, the relentless cold, waiting, not +three feet distant from that fugitive heat, became all a dream. One +importunate thought terrified Philippe: + +"If I sleep, we shall all die; I will not sleep," he said to himself. + +And yet he slept. + +A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. The sense +of his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his heart. He +uttered a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were alone +afoot. A sea of fire lay before them in the darkness of the night, +licking up the cabins and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, and +imprecations reached their ears; they saw against the flames thousands +of human beings with agonized or furious faces. In the midst of that +hell, a column of soldiers was forcing its way to the bridge, between +two hedges of dead bodies. + +"It is the retreat of the rear-guard!" cried the major. "All hope is +gone!" + +"I have saved your carriage, Philippe," said a friendly voice. + +Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in the +flaring of the flames. + +"Ah! all is lost!" replied the major, "they have eaten my horse; and +how can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?" + +"Take a brand from the fire and threaten them." + +"Threaten the countess!" + +"Good-bye," said the aide-de-camp, "I have scarcely time to get across +that fatal river--and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a night! +These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will allow +themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move on. It +is four o'clock, Philippe! In two hours the Russians will begin to +move. I assure you you will again see the Beresina choked with +corpses. Philippe! think of yourself! You have no horses, you cannot +carry the countess in your arms. Come--come with me!" he said +urgently, pulling de Sucy by the arm. + +"My friend! abandon Stephanie!" + +De Sucy seized the countess, made her stand upright, shook her with +the roughness of a despairing man, and compelled her to wake up. She +looked at him with fixed, dead eyes. + +"You must walk, Stephanie, or we shall all die here." + +For all answer the countess tried to drop again upon the snow and +sleep. The aide-de-camp seized a brand from the fire and waved it in +her face. + +"We will save her in spite of herself!" cried Philippe, lifting the +countess and placing her in the carriage. + +He returned to implore the help of his friend. Together they lifted +the old general, without knowing whether he were dead or alive, and +put him beside his wife. The major then rolled over the men who were +sleeping on his blankets, which he tossed into the carriage, together +with some roasted fragments of his mare. + +"What do you mean to do?" asked the aide-de-camp. + +"Drag them." + +"You are crazy." + +"True," said Philippe, crossing his arms in despair. + +Suddenly, he was seized by a last despairing thought. + +"To you," he said, grasping the sound arm of his orderly, "I confide +her for one hour. Remember that you must die sooner than let any one +approach her." + +The major then snatched up the countess's diamonds, held them in one +hand, drew his sabre with the other, and began to strike with the flat +of its blade such of the sleepers as he thought the most intrepid. He +succeeded in awaking the colossal grenadier, and two other men whose +rank it was impossible to tell. + +"We are done for!" he said. + +"I know it," said the grenadier, "but I don't care." + +"Well, death for death, wouldn't you rather sell your life for a +pretty woman, and take your chances of seeing France?" + +"I'd rather sleep," said a man, rolling over on the snow, "and if you +trouble me again, I'll stick my bayonet into your stomach." + +"What is the business, my colonel?" said the grenadier. "That man is +drunk; he's a Parisian; he likes his ease." + +"That is yours, my brave grenadier," cried the major, offering him a +string of diamonds, "if you will follow me and fight like a madman. +The Russians are ten minutes' march from here; they have horses; we +are going up to their first battery for a pair." + +"But the sentinels?" + +"One of us three--" he interrupted himself, and turned to the aide-de- +camp. "You will come, Hippolyte, won't you?" + +Hippolyte nodded. + +"One of us," continued the major, "will take care of the sentinel. +Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed Russians." + +"Forward! major, you're a brave one! But you'll give me a lift on your +carriage?" said the grenadier. + +"Yes, if you don't leave your skin up there-- If I fall, Hippolyte, +and you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the +countess." + +"Agreed!" cried the grenadier. + +They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the batteries which +had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the river. +A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the snow, +and the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged above +the heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so fleet +that their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on his +anvil. The generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic grenadier +was safe and sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received a +bayonet in his shoulder; but he clung to his horse's mane, and clasped +him so tightly with his knees that the animal was held as in a vice. + +"God be praised!" cried the major, finding his orderly untouched, and +the carriage in its place. + +"If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for this," +said the man. "We've played a fine game of guns and sabres here, I can +tell you." + +"We have done nothing yet-- Harness the horses. Take these ropes." + +"They are not long enough." + +"Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls and linen, +to eke out." + +"Tiens! that's one dead," said the grenadier, stripping the first man +he came to. "Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!" + +"All?" + +"Yes, all; seems as if horse-meat must be indigestible if eaten with +snow." + +The words made Philippe tremble. The cold was increasing. + +"My God! to lose the woman I have saved a dozen times!" + +The major shook the countess. + +"Stephanie! Stephanie!" + +The young woman opened her eyes. + +"Madame! we are saved." + +"Saved!" she repeated, sinking down again. + +The horses were harnessed as best they could. The major, holding his +sabre in his well hand, with his pistols in his belt, gathered up the +reins with the other hand and mounted one horse while the grenadier +mounted the other. The orderly, whose feet were frozen, was thrown +inside the carriage, across the general and the countess. Excited by +pricks from a sabre, the horses drew the carriage rapidly, with a sort +of fury, to the plain, where innumerable obstacles awaited it. It was +impossible to force a way without danger of crushing the sleeping men, +women, and even children, who refused to move when the grenadier awoke +them. In vain did Monsieur de Sucy endeavor to find the swathe cut by +the rear-guard through the mass of human beings; it was already +obliterated, like the wake of a vessel through the sea. They could +only creep along, being often stopped by soldiers who threatened to +kill their horses. + +"Do you want to reach the bridge?" said the grenadier. + +"At the cost of my life--at the cost of the whole world!" + +"Then forward, march! you can't make omelets without breaking eggs." + +And the grenadier of the guard urged the horses over men and bivouacs +with bloody wheels and a double line of corpses on either side of +them. We must do him the justice to say that he never spared his +breath in shouting in stentorian tones,-- + +"Look out there, carrion!" + +"Poor wretches!" cried the major. + +"Pooh! that or the cold, that or the cannon," said the grenadier, +prodding the horses, and urging them on. + +A catastrophe, which might well have happened to them much sooner, put +a stop to their advance. The carriage was overturned. + +"I expected it," cried the imperturbable grenadier. "Ho! ho! your man +is dead." + +"Poor Laurent!" said the major. + +"Laurent? Was he in the 5th chasseurs?" + +"Yes." + +"Then he was my cousin. Oh, well, this dog's life isn't happy enough +to waste any joy in grieving for him." + +The carriage could not be raised; the horses were taken out with +serious and, as it proved, irreparable loss of time. The shock of the +overturn was so violent that the young countess, roused from her +lethargy, threw off her coverings and rose. + +"Philippe, where are we?" she cried in a gentle voice, looking about +her. + +"Only five hundred feet from the bridge. We are now going to cross the +Beresina, Stephanie, and once across I will not torment you any more; +you shall sleep; we shall be in safety, and can reach Wilna easily.-- +God grant that she may never know what her life has cost!" he thought. + +"Philippe! you are wounded!" + +"That is nothing." + +Too late! the fatal hour had come. The Russian cannon sounded the +reveille. Masters of Studzianka, they could sweep the plain, and by +daylight the major could see two of their columns moving and forming +on the heights. A cry of alarm arose from the multitude, who started +to their feet in an instant. Every man now understood his danger +instinctively, and the whole mass rushed to gain the bridge with the +motion of a wave. + +The Russians came down with the rapidity of a conflagration. Men, +women, children, horses,--all rushed tumultuously to the bridge. +Fortunately the major, who was carrying the countess, was still some +distance from it. General Eble had just set fire to the supports on +the other bank. In spite of the warnings shouted to those who were +rushing upon the bridge, not a soul went back. Not only did the bridge +go down crowded with human beings, but the impetuosity of that flood +of men toward the fatal bank was so furious that a mass of humanity +poured itself violently into the river like an avalanche. Not a cry +was heard; the only sound was like the dropping of monstrous stones +into the water. Then the Beresina was a mass of floating corpses. + +The retrograde movement of those who now fell back into the plain to +escape the death before them was so violent, and their concussion +against those who were advancing from the rear so terrible, that +numbers were smothered or trampled to death. The Comte and Comtesse de +Vandieres owed their lives to their carriage, behind which Philippe +forced them, using it as a breastwork. As for the major and the +grenadier, they found their safety in their strength. They killed to +escape being killed. + +This hurricane of human beings, the flux and reflux of living bodies, +had the effect of leaving for a few short moments the whole bank of +the Beresina deserted. The multitude were surging to the plain. If a +few men rushed to the river, it was less in the hope of reaching the +other bank, which to them was France, than to rush from the horrors of +Siberia. Despair proved an aegis to some bold hearts. One officer +sprang from ice-cake to ice-cake, and reached the opposite shore. A +soldier clambered miraculously over mounds of dead bodies and heaps of +ice. The multitude finally comprehended that the Russians would not +put to death a body of twenty thousand men, without arms, torpid, +stupid, unable to defend themselves; and each man awaited his fate +with horrible resignation. Then the major and the grenadier, the +general and his wife, remained almost alone on the river bank, a few +steps from the spot where the bridge had been. They stood there, with +dry eyes, silent, surrounded by heaps of dead. A few sound soldiers, a +few officers to whom the emergency had restored their natural energy, +were near them. This group consisted of some fifty men in all. The +major noticed at a distance of some two hundred yards the remains of +another bridge intended for carriages and destroyed the day before. + +"Let us make a raft!" he cried. + +He had hardly uttered the words before the whole group rushed to the +ruins, and began to pick up iron bolts, and screws, and pieces of wood +and ropes, whatever materials they could find that were suitable for +the construction of a raft. A score of soldiers and officers, who were +armed, formed a guard, commanded by the major, to protect the workers +against the desperate attacks which might be expected from the crowd, +if their scheme was discovered. The instinct of freedom, strong in all +prisoners, inspiring them to miraculous acts, can only be compared +with that which now drove to action these unfortunate Frenchmen. + +"The Russians! the Russians are coming!" cried the defenders to the +workers; and the work went on, the raft increased in length and +breadth and depth. Generals, soldiers, colonel, all put their +shoulders to the wheel; it was a true image of the building of Noah's +ark. The young countess, seated beside her husband, watched the +progress of the work with regret that she could not help it; and yet +she did assist in making knots to secure the cordage. + +At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it on the river, a +dozen others holding the cords which moored it to the shore. But no +sooner had the builders seen their handiwork afloat, than they sprang +from the bank with odious selfishness. The major, fearing the fury of +this first rush, held back the countess and the general, but too late +he saw the whole raft covered, men pressing together like crowds at a +theatre. + +"Savages!" he cried, "it was I who gave you the idea of that raft. I +have saved you, and you deny me a place." + +A confused murmur answered him. The men at the edge of the raft, armed +with long sticks, pressed with violence against the shore to send off +the frail construction with sufficient impetus to force its way +through corpses and ice-floes to the other shore. + +"Thunder of heaven! I'll sweep you into the water if you don't take +the major and his two companions," cried the stalwart grenadier, who +swung his sabre, stopped the departure, and forced the men to stand +closer in spite of furious outcries. + +"I shall fall,"--"I am falling,"--"Push off! push off!--Forward!" +resounded on all sides. + +The major looked with haggard eyes at Stephanie, who lifted hers to +heaven with a feeling of sublime resignation. + +"To die with thee!" she said. + +There was something even comical in the position of the men in +possession of the raft. Though they were uttering awful groans and +imprecations, they dared not resist the grenadier, for in truth they +were so closely packed together, that a push to one man might send +half of them overboard. This danger was so pressing that a cavalry +captain endeavored to get rid of the grenadier; but the latter, seeing +the hostile movement of the officer, seized him round the waist and +flung him into the water, crying out,-- + +"Ha! ha! my duck, do you want to drink? Well, then, drink!-- Here are +two places," he cried. "Come, major, toss me the little woman and +follow yourself. Leave that old fossil, who'll be dead by to-morrow." + +"Make haste!" cried the voice of all, as one man. + +"Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do so." + +The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed himself in +his general's uniform. + +"Let us save the count," said Philippe. + +Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his breast, she +clasped him tightly. + +"Adieu!" she said. + +They had understood each other. + +The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and presence of +mind to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, after +turning a last look to Philippe. + +"Major! will you take my place? I don't care a fig for life," cried +the grenadier. "I've neither wife nor child nor mother." + +"I confide them to your care," said the major, pointing to the count +and his wife. + +"Then be easy; I'll care for them, as though they were my very eyes." + +The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the opposite +side of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt by +all. The count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and fell +into the river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and cut +off his head, flinging it to a great distance. + +"See there! major!" cried the grenadier. + +"Adieu!" said a woman's voice. + +Philippe de Sucy fell to the ground, overcome with horror and fatigue. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE CURE + +"My poor niece became insane," continued the physician, after a few +moment's silence. "Ah! monsieur," he said, seizing the marquis's hand, +"life has been awful indeed for that poor little woman, so young, so +delicate! After being, by dreadful fatality, separated from the +grenadier, whose name was Fleuriot, she was dragged about for two +years at the heels of the army, the plaything of a crowd of wretches. +She was often, they tell me, barefooted, and scarcely clothed; for +months together, she had no care, no food but what she could pick up; +sometimes kept in hospitals, sometimes driven away like an animal, God +alone knows the horrors that poor unfortunate creature has survived. +She was locked up in a madhouse, in a little town in Germany, at the +time her relatives, thinking her dead, divided her property. In 1816, +the grenadier Fleuriot was at an inn in Strasburg, where she went +after making her escape from the madhouse. Several peasants told the +grenadier that she had lived for a whole month in the forest, where +they had tracked her in vain, trying to catch her, but she had always +escaped them. I was then staying a few miles from Strasburg. Hearing +much talk of a wild woman caught in the woods, I felt a desire to +ascertain the truth of the ridiculous stories which were current about +her. What were my feelings on beholding my own niece! Fleuriot told me +all he knew of her dreadful history. I took the poor man with my niece +back to my home in Auvergne, where, unfortunately, I lost him some +months later. He had some slight control over Madame de Vandieres; he +alone could induce her to wear clothing. 'Adieu,' that word, which is +her only language, she seldom uttered at that time. Fleuriot had +endeavored to awaken in her a few ideas, a few memories of the past; +but he failed; all that he gained was to make her say that melancholy +word a little oftener. Still, the grenadier knew how to amuse her and +play with her; my hope was in him, but--" + +He was silent for a moment. + +"Here," he continued, "she has found another creature, with whom she +seems to have some strange understanding. It is a poor idiotic +peasant-girl, who, in spite of her ugliness and stupidity, loved a +man, a mason. The mason was willing to marry her, as she had some +property. Poor Genevieve was happy for a year; she dressed in her best +to dance with her lover on Sunday; she comprehended love; in her heart +and soul there was room for that one sentiment. But the mason, Dallot, +reflected. He found a girl with all her senses, and more land than +Genevieve, and he deserted the poor creature. Since then she has lost +the little intellect that love developed in her; she can do nothing +but watch the cows, or help at harvesting. My niece and this poor girl +are friends, apparently by some invisible chain of their common +destiny, by the sentiment in each which has caused their madness. +See!" added Stephanie's uncle, leading the marquis to a window. + +The latter then saw the countess seated on the ground between +Genevieve's legs. The peasant-girl, armed with a huge horn comb, was +giving her whole attention to the work of disentangling the long black +hair of the poor countess, who was uttering little stifled cries, +expressive of some instinctive sense of pleasure. Monsieur d'Albon +shuddered as he saw the utter abandonment of the body, the careless +animal ease which revealed in the hapless woman a total absence of +soul. + +"Philippe, Philippe!" he muttered, "the past horrors are nothing!--Is +there no hope?" he asked. + +The old physician raised his eyes to heaven. + +"Adieu, monsieur," said the marquis, pressing his hand. "My friend is +expecting me. He will soon come to you." + +"Then it was really she!" cried de Sucy at d'Albon's first words. "Ah! +I still doubted it," he added, a few tears falling from his eyes, +which were habitually stern. + +"Yes, it is the Comtesse de Vandieres," replied the marquis. + +The colonel rose abruptly from his bed and began to dress. + +"Philippe!" cried his friend, "are you mad?" + +"I am no longer ill," replied the colonel, simply. "This news has +quieted my suffering. What pain can I feel when I think of Stephanie? +I am going to the Bons-Hommes, to see her, speak to her, cure her. She +is free. Well, happiness will smile upon us--or Providence is not in +this world. Think you that that poor woman could hear my voice and not +recover reason?" + +"She has already seen you and not recognized you," said his friend, +gently, for he felt the danger of Philippe's excited hopes, and tried +to cast a salutary doubt upon them. + +The colonel quivered; then he smiled, and made a motion of +incredulity. No one dared to oppose his wish, and within a very short +time he reached the old priory. + +"Where is she?" he cried, on arriving. + +"Hush!" said her uncle, "she is sleeping. See, here she is." + +Philippe then saw the poor insane creature lying on a bench in the +sun. Her head was protected from the heat by a forest of hair which +fell in tangled locks over her face. Her arms hung gracefully to the +ground; her body lay easily posed like that of a doe; her feet were +folded under her without effort; her bosom rose and fell at regular +intervals; her skin, her complexion, had that porcelain whiteness, +which we admire so much in the clear transparent faces of children. +Standing motionless beside her, Genevieve held in her hand a branch +which Stephanie had doubtless climbed a tall poplar to obtain, and the +poor idiot was gently waving it above her sleeping companion, to chase +away the flies and cool the atmosphere. + +The peasant-woman gazed at Monsieur Fanjat and the colonel; then, like +an animal which recognizes its master, she turned her head slowly to +the countess, and continued to watch her, without giving any sign of +surprise or intelligence. The air was stifling; the stone bench +glittered in the sunlight; the meadow exhaled to heaven those impish +vapors which dance and dart above the herbage like silvery dust; but +Genevieve seemed not to feel this all-consuming heat. + +The colonel pressed the hand of the doctor violently in his own. Tears +rolled from his eyes along his manly cheeks, and fell to the earth at +the feet of his Stephanie. + +"Monsieur," said the uncle, "for two years past, my heart is broken +day by day. Soon you will be like me. You may not always weep, but you +will always feel your sorrow." + +The two men understood each other; and again, pressing each other's +hands, they remained motionless, contemplating the exquisite calmness +which sleep had cast upon that graceful creature. From time to time +she gave a sigh, and that sigh, which had all the semblance of +sensibilities, made the unhappy colonel tremble with hope. + +"Alas!" said Monsieur Fanjat, "do not deceive yourself, monsieur; +there is no meaning in her sigh." + +Those who have ever watched for hours with delight the sleep of one +who is tenderly beloved, whose eyes will smile to them at waking, can +understand the sweet yet terrible emotion that shook the colonel's +soul. To him, this sleep was an illusion; the waking might be death, +death in its most awful form. Suddenly, a little goat jumped in three +bounds to the bench, and smelt at Stephanie, who waked at the sound. +She sprang to her feet, but so lightly that the movement did not +frighten the freakish animal; then she caught sight of Philippe, and +darted away, followed by her four-footed friend, to a hedge of elders; +there she uttered the same little cry like a frightened bird, which +the two men had heard near the other gate. Then she climbed an acacia, +and nestling into its tufted top, she watched the stranger with the +inquisitive attention of the forest birds. + +"Adieu, adieu, adieu," she said, without the soul communicating one +single intelligent inflexion to the word. + +It was uttered impassively, as the bird sings his note. + +"She does not recognize me!" cried the colonel, in despair. +"Stephanie! it is Philippe, thy Philippe, PHILIPPE!" + +And the poor soldier went to the acacia; but when he was a few steps +from it, the countess looked at him, as if defying him, although a +slight expression of fear seemed to flicker in her eye; then, with a +single bound she sprang from the acacia to a laburnum, and thence to a +Norway fir, where she darted from branch to branch with extraordinary +agility. + +"Do not pursue her," said Monsieur Fanjat to the colonel, "or you will +arouse an aversion which might become insurmountable. I will help you +to tame her and make her come to you. Let us sit on this bench. If you +pay no attention to her, she will come of her own accord to examine +you." + +"SHE! not to know me! to flee me!" repeated the colonel, seating +himself on a bench with his back to a tree that shaded it, and letting +his head fall upon his breast. + +The doctor said nothing. Presently, the countess came gently down the +fir-tree, letting herself swing easily on the branches, as the wind +swayed them. At each branch she stopped to examine the stranger; but +seeing him motionless, she at last sprang to the ground and came +slowly towards him across the grass. When she reached a tree about ten +feet distant, against which she leaned, Monsieur Fanjat said to the +colonel in a low voice,-- + +"Take out, adroitly, from my right hand pocket some lumps of sugar you +will feel there. Show them to her, and she will come to us. I will +renounce in your favor my sole means of giving her pleasure. With +sugar, which she passionately loves, you will accustom her to approach +you, and to know you again." + +"When she was a woman," said Philippe, sadly, "she had no taste for +sweet things." + +When the colonel showed her the lump of sugar, holding it between the +thumb and forefinger of his right hand, she again uttered her little +wild cry, and sprang toward him; then she stopped, struggling against +the instinctive fear he caused her; she looked at the sugar and turned +away her head alternately, precisely like a dog whose master forbids +him to touch his food until he has said a letter of the alphabet which +he slowly repeats. At last the animal desire triumphed over fear. +Stephanie darted to Philippe, cautiously putting out her little brown +hand to seize the prize, touched the fingers of her poor lover as she +snatched the sugar, and fled away among the trees. This dreadful scene +overcame the colonel; he burst into tears and rushed into the house. + +"Has love less courage than friendship?" Monsieur Fanjat said to him. +"I have some hope, Monsieur le baron. My poor niece was in a far worse +state than that in which you now find her." + +"How was that possible?" cried Philippe. + +"She went naked," replied the doctor. + +The colonel made a gesture of horror and turned pale. The doctor saw +in that sudden pallor alarming symptoms; he felt the colonel's pulse, +found him in a violent fever, and half persuaded, half compelled him +to go to bed. Then he gave him a dose of opium to ensure a calm sleep. + +Eight days elapsed, during which Colonel de Sucy struggled against +mortal agony; tears no longer came to his eyes. His soul, often +lacerated, could not harden itself to the sight of Stephanie's +insanity; but he covenanted, so to speak, with his cruel situation, +and found some assuaging of his sorrow. He had the courage to slowly +tame the countess by bringing her sweetmeats; he took such pains in +choosing them, and he learned so well how to keep the little conquests +he sought to make upon her instincts--that last shred of her intellect +--that he ended by making her much TAMER than she had ever been. + +Every morning he went into the park, and if, after searching for her +long, he could not discover on what tree she was swaying, nor the +covert in which she crouched to play with a bird, nor the roof on +which she might have clambered, he would whistle the well-known air of +"Partant pour la Syrie," to which some tender memory of their love +attached. Instantly, Stephanie would run to him with the lightness of +a fawn. She was now so accustomed to see him, that he frightened her +no longer. Soon she was willing to sit upon his knee, and clasp him +closely with her thin and agile arm. In that attitude--so dear to +lovers!--Philippe would feed her with sugarplums. Then, having eaten +those that he gave her, she would often search his pockets with +gestures that had all the mechanical velocity of a monkey's motions. +When she was very sure there was nothing more, she looked at Philippe +with clear eyes, without ideas, with recognition. Then she would play +with him, trying at times to take off his boots to see his feet, +tearing his gloves, putting on his hat; she would even let him pass +his hands through her hair, and take her in his arms; she accepted, +but without pleasure, his ardent kisses. She would look at him +silently, without emotion, when his tears flowed; but she always +understood his "Partant pour la Syrie," when he whistled it, though he +never succeeded in teaching her to say her own name Stephanie. + +Philippe was sustained in his agonizing enterprise by hope, which +never abandoned him. When, on fine autumn mornings, he found the +countess sitting peacefully on a bench, beneath a poplar now +yellowing, the poor lover would sit at her feet, looking into her eyes +as long as she would let him, hoping ever that the light that was in +them would become intelligent. Sometimes the thought deluded him that +he saw those hard immovable rays softening, vibrating, living, and he +cried out,-- + +"Stephanie! Stephanie! thou hearest me, thou seest me!" + +But she listened to that cry as to a noise, the soughing of the wind +in the tree-tops, or the lowing of the cow on the back of which she +climbed. Then the colonel would wring his hands in despair,--despair +that was new each day. + +One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of that +rural haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel was +loading his pistols. The old man felt then that the young man had +ceased to hope; he felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if he +conquered the vertigo that threatened him, it was because he would +rather see his niece living and mad than dead. He hastened up. + +"What are you doing?" he said. + +"That is for me," replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol already +loaded, which was lying on the bench; "and this is for her," he added, +as he forced the wad into the weapon he held. + +The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with the +balls. + +"Then you do not know," said the doctor, coldly, concealing his +terror, "that in her sleep last night she called you: Philippe!" + +"She called me!" cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which Stephanie +picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that was on +the bench, and rushed away. + +"Poor darling!" said the doctor, happy in the success of his lie. He +pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking to +himself: "He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he suffers. +He does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do we +not? He is mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. No, +God alone should call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we pity thee +because thou canst not share our sorrows, fools that we are!--But," he +said, sitting down and taking her on his knee, "nothing troubles thee; +thy life is like that of a bird, of a fawn--" + +As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was hopping near +them, caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled it, +looked at it, dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of a +tree without a thought. + +The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down into the +gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,--he believed in the coming +happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to him, +he took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first time, +and he led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of which +was dropping to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own accord +Stephanie placed herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with joy. + +"Love," he said, kissing her hands passionately, "I am Philippe." + +She looked at him with curiosity. + +"Come," he said, pressing her to him, "dost thou feel my heart? It has +beaten for thee alone. I love thee ever. Philippe is not dead; he is +not dead, thou art on him, in his arms. Thou art MY Stephanie; I am +thy Philippe." + +"Adieu," she said, "adieu." + +The colonel quivered, for he fancied he saw his own excitement +communicated to his mistress. His heart-rending cry, drawn from him by +despair, that last effort of an eternal love, of a delirious passion, +was successful, the mind of his darling was awaking. + +"Ah! Stephanie! Stephanie! we shall yet be happy." + +She gave a cry of satisfaction, and her eyes brightened with a flash +of vague intelligence. + +"She knows me!--Stephanie!" + +His heart swelled; his eyelids were wet with tears. Then, suddenly, +the countess showed him a bit of sugar she had found in his pocket +while he was speaking to her. He had mistaken for human thought the +amount of reason required for a monkey's trick. Philippe dropped to +the ground unconscious. Monsieur Fanjat found the countess sitting on +the colonel's body. She was biting her sugar, and testifying her +pleasure by pretty gestures and affectations with which, had she her +reason, she might have imitated her parrot or her cat. + +"Ah! my friend," said Philippe, when he came to his senses, "I die +every day, every moment! I love too well! I could still bear all, if, +in her madness, she had kept her woman's nature. But to see her always +a savage, devoid even of modesty, to see her--" + +"You want opera madness, do you? something picturesque and pleasing," +said the doctor, bitterly. "Your love and your devotion yield before a +prejudice. Monsieur, I have deprived myself for your sake of the sad +happiness of watching over my niece; I have left to you the pleasure +of playing with her; I have kept for myself the heaviest cares. While +you have slept, I have watched, I have-- Go, monsieur, go! abandon +her! leave this sad refuge. I know how to live with that dear darling +creature; I comprehend her madness, I watch her gestures, I know her +secrets. Some day you will thank me for thus sending you away." + +The colonel left the old monastery, never to return but once. The +doctor was horrified when he saw the effect he had produced upon his +guest, whom he now began to love when he saw him thus. Surely, if +either of the two lovers were worthy of pity, it was Philippe; did he +not bear alone the burden of their dreadful sorrow? + +After the colonel's departure the doctor kept himself informed about +him; he learned that the miserable man was living on an estate near +Saint-Germain. In truth, the baron, on the faith of a dream, had +formed a project which he believed would yet restore the mind of his +darling. Unknown to the doctor, he spent the rest of the autumn in +preparing for his enterprise. A little river flowed through his park +and inundated during the winter the marshes on either side of it, +giving it some resemblance to the Beresina. The village of Satout, on +the heights above, closed in, like Studzianka, the scene of horror. +The colonel collected workmen to deepen the banks, and by the help of +his memory, he copied in his park the shore where General Eble +destroyed the bridge. He planted piles, and made buttresses and burned +them, leaving their charred and blackened ruins, standing in the water +from shore to shore. Then he gathered fragments of all kinds, like +those of which the raft was built. He ordered dilapidated uniforms and +clothing of every grade, and hired hundreds of peasants to wear them; +he erected huts and cabins for the purpose of burning them. In short, +he forgot nothing that might recall that most awful of all scenes, and +he succeeded. + +Toward the last of December, when the snow had covered with its thick, +white mantle all his imitative preparations, he recognized the +Beresina. This false Russia was so terribly truthful, that several of +his army comrades recognized the scene of their past misery at once. +Monsieur de Sucy took care to keep secret the motive for this tragic +imitation, which was talked of in several Parisian circles as a proof +of insanity. + +Early in January, 1820, the colonel drove in a carriage, the very +counterpart of the one in which he had driven the Comte and Comtesse +de Vandieres from Moscow to Studzianka. The horses, too, were like +those he had gone, at the peril of his life, to fetch from the Russian +outposts. He himself wore the soiled fantastic clothing, the same +weapons, as on the 29th of November, 1812. He had let his beard grow, +also his hair, which was tangled and matted, and his face was +neglected, so that nothing might be wanting to represent the awful +truth. + +"I can guess your purpose," cried Monsieur Fanjat, when he saw the +colonel getting out of the carriage. "If you want to succeed, do not +let my niece see you in that equipage. To-night I will give her opium. +During her sleep, we will dress her as she was at Studzianka, and +place her in the carriage. I will follow you in another vehicle." + +About two in the morning, the sleeping countess was placed in the +carriage and wrapped in heavy coverings. A few peasants with torches +lighted up this strange abduction. Suddenly, a piercing cry broke the +silence of the night. Philippe and the doctor turned, and saw +Genevieve coming half-naked from the ground-floor room in which she +slept. + +"Adieu, adieu! all is over, adieu!" she cried, weeping hot tears. + +"Genevieve, what troubles you?" asked the doctor. + +Genevieve shook her head with a motion of despair, raised her arm to +heaven, looked at the carriage, uttering a long-drawn moan with every +sign of the utmost terror; then she returned to her room silently. + +"That is a good omen!" cried the colonel. "She feels she is to lose +her companion. Perhaps she SEES that Stephanie will recover her +reason." + +"God grant it!" said Monsieur Fanjat, who himself was affected by the +incident. + +Ever since he had made a close study of insanity, the good man had met +with many examples of the prophetic faculty and the gift of second +sight, proofs of which are frequently given by alienated minds, and +which may also be found, so travellers say, among certain tribes of +savages. + +As the colonel had calculated, Stephanie crossed the fictitious plain +of the Beresina at nine o'clock in the morning, when she was awakened +by a cannon shot not a hundred yards from the spot where the +experiment was to be tried. This was a signal. Hundreds of peasants +made a frightful clamor like that on the shore of the river that +memorable night, when twenty thousand stragglers were doomed to death +or slavery by their own folly. + +At the cry, at the shot, the countess sprang from the carriage, and +ran, with delirious emotion, over the snow to the banks of the river; +she saw the burned bivouacs and the charred remains of the bridge, and +the fatal raft, which the men were launching into the icy waters of +the Beresina. The major, Philippe, was there, striking back the crowd +with his sabre. Madame de Vandieres gave a cry, which went to all +hearts, and threw herself before the colonel, whose heart beat wildly. +She seemed to gather herself together, and, at first, looked vaguely +at the singular scene. For an instant, as rapid as the lightning's +flash, her eyes had that lucidity, devoid of mind, which we admire in +the eye of birds; then passing her hand across her brow with the keen +expression of one who meditates, she contemplated the living memory of +a past scene spread before her, and, turning quickly to Philippe, she +SAW HIM. An awful silence reigned in the crowd. The colonel gasped, +but dared not speak; the doctor wept. Stephanie's sweet face colored +faintly; then, from tint to tint, it returned to the brightness of +youth, till it glowed with a beautiful crimson. Life and happiness, +lighted by intelligence, came nearer and nearer like a conflagration. +Convulsive trembling rose from her feet to her heart. Then these +phenomena seemed to blend in one as Stephanie's eyes cast forth a +celestial ray, the flame of a living soul. She lived, she thought! She +shuddered, with fear perhaps, for God himself unloosed that silent +tongue, and cast anew His fires into that long-extinguished soul. +Human will came with its full electric torrent, and vivified the body +from which it had been driven. + +"Stephanie!" cried the colonel. + +"Oh! it is Philippe," said the poor countess. + +She threw herself into the trembling arms that the colonel held out to +her, and the clasp of the lovers frightened the spectators. Stephanie +burst into tears. Suddenly her tears stopped, she stiffened as though +the lightning had touched her, and said in a feeble voice,-- + +"Adieu, Philippe; I love thee, adieu!" + +"Oh! she is dead," cried the colonel, opening his arms. + +The old doctor received the inanimate body of his niece, kissed it as +though he were a young man, and carrying it aside, sat down with it +still in his arms on a pile of wood. He looked at the countess and +placed his feeble trembling hand upon her heart. That heart no longer +beat. + +"It is true," he said, looking up at the colonel, who stood +motionless, and then at Stephanie, on whom death was placing that +resplendent beauty, that fugitive halo, which is, perhaps, a pledge of +the glorious future--"Yes, she is dead." + +"Ah! that smile," cried Philippe, "do you see that smile? Can it be +true?" + +"She is turning cold," replied Monsieur Fanjat. + +Monsieur de Sucy made a few steps to tear himself away from the sight; +but he stopped, whistled the air that Stephanie had known, and when +she did not come to him, went on with staggering steps like a drunken +man, still whistling, but never turning back. + +General Philippe de Sucy was thought in the social world to be a very +agreeable man, and above all a very gay one. A few days ago, a lady +complimented him on his good humor, and the charming equability of his +nature. + +"Ah! madame," he said, "I pay dear for my liveliness in my lonely +evenings." + +"Are you ever alone?" she said. + +"No," he replied smiling. + +If a judicious observer of human nature could have seen at that moment +the expression on the Comte de Sucy's face, he would perhaps have +shuddered. + +"Why don't you marry?" said the lady, who had several daughters at +school. "You are rich, titled, and of ancient lineage; you have +talents, and a great future before you; all things smile upon you." + +"Yes," he said, "but a smile kills me." + +The next day the lady heard with great astonishment that Monsieur de +Sucy had blown his brains out during the night. The upper ranks of +society talked in various ways over this extraordinary event, and each +person looked for the cause of it. According to the proclivities of +each reasoner, play, love, ambition, hidden disorders, and vices, +explained the catastrophe, the last scene of a drama begun in 1812. +Two men alone, a marquis and former deputy, and an aged physician, +knew that Philippe de Sucy was one of those strong men to whom God has +given the unhappy power of issuing daily in triumph from awful combats +which they fight with an unseen monster. If, for a moment, God +withdraws from such men His all-powerful hand, they succumb. + + + + +ADDENDUM + +The following personage appears in other stories of the Human Comedy. + +Note: Adieu is also entitled Farewell. + +Granville, Vicomte de + The Gondreville Mystery + A Second Home + Farewell (Adieu) + Cesar Birotteau + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life + A Daughter of Eve + Cousin Pons + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Adieu by Honore de Balzac + diff --git a/old/adieu10.zip b/old/adieu10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7bbd21 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/adieu10.zip diff --git a/old/adieu10h.htm b/old/adieu10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f21b469 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/adieu10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3312 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>Adieu</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +</head> + + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac +#47 in our series by Honore de Balzac + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Adieu + +Author: Honore de Balzac + +Release Date: December, 1998 [EBook #1554] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 7, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + + + + +Produced by Walter Debeuf + + + + + + +</pre> + +Etext prepared by John Bickers, +jbickers@templar.actrix.gen.nz<br> +and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com + +<p>ADIEU</p> + +<p>by HONORE DE BALZAC</p> + +<p>Translated By<br> + Katharine Prescott Wormeley</p> + +<p>DEDICATION</p> + +<p>To Prince Frederic Schwartzenburg.</p> + +<h1>ADIEU</h1> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>AN OLD MONASTERY</h3> + +<p>"Come, deputy of the Centre, forward! Quick step! march! if we +want to<br> + be in time to dine with the others. Jump, marquis! there, +that's<br> + right! why, you can skip across a stubble-field like a +deer!"</p> + +<p>These words were said by a huntsman peacefully seated at the +edge of<br> + the forest of Ile-Adam, who was finishing an Havana cigar +while<br> + waiting for his companion, who had lost his way in the +tangled<br> + underbrush of the wood. At his side four panting dogs were +watching,<br> + as he did, the personage he addressed. To understand how +sarcastic<br> + were these exhortations, repeated at intervals, we should state +that<br> + the approaching huntsman was a stout little man whose +protuberant<br> + stomach was the evidence of a truly ministerial "embonpoint." He +was<br> + struggling painfully across the furrows of a vast wheat-field +recently<br> + harvested, the stubble of which considerably impeded him; while +to add<br> + to his other miseries the sun's rays, striking obliquely on his +face,<br> + collected an abundance of drops of perspiration. Absorbed in +the<br> + effort to maintain his equilibrium, he leaned, now forward, now +back,<br> + in close imitation of the pitching of a carriage when +violently<br> + jolted. The weather looked threatening. Though several spaces of +blue<br> + sky still parted the thick black clouds toward the horizon, a +flock of<br> + fleecy vapors were advancing with great rapidity and drawing a +light<br> + gray curtain from east to west. As the wind was acting only on +the<br> + upper region of the air, the atmosphere below it pressed down +the hot<br> + vapors of the earth. Surrounded by masses of tall trees, the +valley<br> + through which the hunter struggled felt like a furnace. Parched +and<br> + silent, the forest seemed thirsty. The birds, even the insects, +were<br> + voiceless; the tree-tops scarcely waved. Those persons who may +still<br> + remember the summer of 1819 can imagine the woes of the poor +deputy,<br> + who was struggling along, drenched in sweat, to regain his +mocking<br> + friend. The latter, while smoking his cigar, had calculated from +the<br> + position of the sun that it must be about five in the +afternoon.</p> + +<p><br> + "Where the devil are we?" said the stout huntsman, mopping +his<br> + forehead and leaning against the trunk of a tree nearly opposite +to<br> + his companion, for he felt unequal to the effort of leaping the +ditch<br> + between them.</p> + +<p>"That's for me to ask you," said the other, laughing, as he +lay among<br> + the tall brown brake which crowned the bank. Then, throwing the +end of<br> + his cigar into the ditch, he cried out vehemently: "I swear by +Saint<br> + Hubert that never again will I trust myself in unknown territory +with<br> + a statesman, though he be, like you, my dear d'Albon, a college +mate."</p> + +<p>"But, Philippe, have you forgotten your French? Or have you +left your<br> + wits in Siberia?" replied the stout man, casting a sorrowfully +comic<br> + look at a sign-post about a hundred feet away.</p> + +<p>"True, true," cried Philippe, seizing his gun and springing +with a<br> + bound into the field and thence to the post. "This way, d'Albon, +this<br> + way," he called back to his friend, pointing to a broad paved +path and<br> + reading aloud the sign: "'From Baillet to Ile-Adam.' We +shall<br> + certainly find the path to Cassan, which must branch from this +one<br> + between here and Ile-Adam."</p> + +<p>"You are right, colonel," said Monsieur d'Albon, replacing +upon his<br> + head the cap with which he had been fanning himself.</p> + +<p>"Forward then, my respectable privy councillor," replied +Colonel<br> + Philippe, whistling to the dogs, who seemed more willing to obey +him<br> + than the public functionary to whom they belonged.</p> + +<p>"Are you aware, marquis," said the jeering soldier, "that we +still<br> + have six miles to go? That village over there must be +Baillet."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" cried the marquis, "go to Cassan if you must, +but<br> + you'll go alone. I prefer to stay here, in spite of the coming +storm,<br> + and wait for the horse you can send me from the chateau. You've +played<br> + me a trick, Sucy. We were to have had a nice little hunt not far +from<br> + Cassan, and beaten the coverts I know. Instead of that, you have +kept<br> + me running like a hare since four o'clock this morning, and all +I've<br> + had for breakfast is a cup of milk. Now, if you ever have a +petition<br> + before the Court, I'll make you lose it, however just your +claim."</p> + +<p>The poor discouraged huntsman sat down on a stone that +supported the<br> + signpost, relieved himself of his gun and his gamebag, and +heaved a<br> + long sigh.</p> + +<p>"France! such are thy deputies!" exclaimed Colonel de Sucy, +laughing.<br> + "Ah! my poor d'Albon, if you had been like me six years in the +wilds<br> + of Siberia--"</p> + +<p>He said no more, but he raised his eyes to heaven as if that +anguish<br> + were between himself and God.</p> + +<p>"Come, march on!" he added. "If you sit still you are +lost."</p> + +<p>"How can I, Philippe? It is an old magisterial habit to sit +still. On<br> + my honor! I'm tired out-- If I had only killed a hare!"</p> + +<p>The two men presented a rather rare contrast: the public +functionary<br> + was forty-two years of age and seemed no more than thirty, +whereas the<br> + soldier was thirty, and seemed forty at the least. Both wore the +red<br> + rosette of the officers of the Legion of honor. A few spare +locks of<br> + black hair mixed with white, like the wing of a magpie, escaped +from<br> + the colonel's cap, while handsome brown curls adorned the brow +of the<br> + statesman. One was tall, gallant, high-strung, and the lines of +his<br> + pallid face showed terrible passions or frightful griefs. The +other<br> + had a face that was brilliant with health, and jovially worth of +an<br> + epicurean. Both were deeply sun-burned, and their high gaiters +of<br> + tanned leather showed signs of the bogs and the thickets they +had just<br> + come through.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Monsieur de Sucy, "let us get on. A short hour's +march,<br> + and we shall reach Cassan in time for a good dinner."</p> + +<p>"It is easy to see you have never loved," replied the +councillor, with<br> + a look that was pitifully comic; "you are as relentless as +article 304<br> + of the penal code."</p> + +<p>Philippe de Sucy quivered; his broad brow contracted; his face +became<br> + as sombre as the skies above them. Some memory of awful +bitterness<br> + distorted for a moment his features, but he said nothing. Like +all<br> + strong men, he drove down his emotions to the depths of his +heart;<br> + thinking perhaps, as simple characters are apt to think, that +there<br> + was something immodest in unveiling griefs when human language +cannot<br> + render their depths and may only rouse the mockery of those who +do not<br> + comprehend them. Monsieur d'Albon had one of those delicate +natures<br> + which divine sorrows, and are instantly sympathetic to the +emotion<br> + they have involuntarily aroused. He respected his friend's +silence,<br> + rose, forgot his fatigue, and followed him silently, grieved to +have<br> + touched a wound that was evidently not healed.</p> + +<p>"Some day, my friend," said Philippe, pressing his hand, and +thanking<br> + him for his mute repentance by a heart-rending look, "I will +relate to<br> + you my life. To-day I cannot."</p> + +<p>They continued their way in silence. When the colonel's pain +seemed<br> + soothed, the marquis resumed his fatigue; and with the instinct, +or<br> + rather the will, of a wearied man his eye took in the very +depths of<br> + the forest; he questioned the tree-tops and examined the +branching<br> + paths, hoping to discover some dwelling where he could ask<br> + hospitality. Arriving at a cross-ways, he thought he noticed a +slight<br> + smoke rising among the trees; he stopped, looked more +attentively, and<br> + saw, in the midst of a vast copse, the dark-green branches of +several<br> + pine-trees.</p> + +<p>"A house! a house!" he cried, with the joy the sailor feels in +crying<br> + "Land!"</p> + +<p>Then he sprang quickly into the copse, and the colonel, who +had fallen<br> + into a deep reverie, followed him mechanically.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather get an omelet, some cottage bread, and a chair +here," he<br> + said, "than go to Cassan for sofas, truffles, and Bordeaux."</p> + +<p>These words were an exclamation of enthusiasm, elicited from +the<br> + councillor on catching sight of a wall, the white towers of +which<br> + glimmered in the distance through the brown masses of the tree +trunks.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! this looks to me as if it had once been a priory," +cried the<br> + marquis, as they reached a very old and blackened gate, through +which<br> + they could see, in the midst of a large park, a building +constructed<br> + in the style of the monasteries of old. "How those rascals the +monks<br> + knew how to choose their sites!"</p> + +<p>This last exclamation was an expression of surprise and +pleasure at<br> + the poetical hermitage which met his eyes. The house stood on +the<br> + slope of the mountain, at the summit of which is the village +of<br> + Nerville. The great centennial oaks of the forest which +encircled the<br> + dwelling made the place an absolute solitude. The main +building,<br> + formerly occupied by the monks, faced south. The park seemed to +have<br> + about forty acres. Near the house lay a succession of green +meadows,<br> + charmingly crossed by several clear rivulets, with here and +there a<br> + piece of water naturally placed without the least apparent +artifice.<br> + Trees of elegant shape and varied foliage were distributed +about.<br> + Grottos, cleverly managed, and massive terraces with dilapidated +steps<br> + and rusty railings, gave a peculiar character to this lone +retreat.<br> + Art had harmonized her constructions with the picturesque +effects of<br> + nature. Human passions seemed to die at the feet of those great +trees,<br> + which guarded this asylum from the tumult of the world as they +shaded<br> + it from the fires of the sun.</p> + +<p><br> + "How desolate!" thought Monsieur d'Albon, observing the +sombre<br> + expression which the ancient building gave to the landscape, +gloomy as<br> + though a curse were on it. It seemed a fatal spot deserted by +man. Ivy<br> + had stretched its tortuous muscles, covered by its rich green +mantle,<br> + everywhere. Brown or green, red or yellow mosses and lichen +spread<br> + their romantic tints on trees and seats and roofs and stones. +The<br> + crumbling window-casings were hollowed by rain, defaced by time; +the<br> + balconies were broken, the terraces demolished. Some of the +outside<br> + shutters hung from a single hinge. The rotten doors seemed +quite<br> + unable to resist an assailant. Covered with shining tufts of<br> + mistletoe, the branches of the neglected fruit-trees gave no +sign of<br> + fruit. Grass grew in the paths. Such ruin and desolation cast a +weird<br> + poesy on the scene, filling the souls of the spectators with +dreamy<br> + thoughts. A poet would have stood there long, plunged in a +melancholy<br> + reverie, admiring this disorder so full of harmony, this +destruction<br> + which was not without its grace. Suddenly, the brown tiles +shone, the<br> + mosses glittered, fantastic shadows danced upon the meadows +and<br> + beneath the trees; fading colors revived; striking contrasts<br> + developed, the foliage of the trees and shrubs defined itself +more<br> + clearly in the light. Then--the light went out. The landscape +seemed<br> + to have spoken, and now was silent, returning to its gloom, or +rather<br> + to the soft sad tones of an autumnal twilight.</p> + +<p>"It is the palace of the Sleeping Beauty," said the marquis, +beginning<br> + to view the house with the eyes of a land owner. "I wonder to +whom it<br> + belongs! He must be a stupid fellow not to live in such an +exquisite<br> + spot."</p> + +<p>At that instant a woman sprang from beneath a chestnut-tree +standing<br> + to the right of the gate, and, without making any noise, passed +before<br> + the marquis as rapidly as the shadow of a cloud. This vision +made him<br> + mute with surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, Albon, what's the matter?" asked the colonel.</p> + +<p>"I am rubbing my eyes to know if I am asleep or awake," +replied the<br> + marquis, with his face close to the iron rails as he tried to +get<br> + another sight of the phantom.</p> + +<p>"She must be beneath that fig-tree," he said, pointing to the +foliage<br> + of a tree which rose above the wall to the left of the gate.</p> + +<p>"She! who?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?" replied Monsieur d'Albon. "A strange woman +rose up<br> + there, just before me," he said in a low voice; "she seemed to +come<br> + from the world of shades rather than from the land of the +living. She<br> + is so slender, so light, so filmy, she must be diaphanous. Her +face<br> + was as white as milk; her eyes, her clothes, her hair jet black. +She<br> + looked at me as she flitted by, and though I may say I'm no +coward,<br> + that cold immovable look froze the blood in my veins."</p> + +<p>"Is she pretty?" asked Philippe.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I could see nothing but the eyes in that +face."</p> + +<p>"Well, let the dinner at Cassan go to the devil!" cried the +colonel.<br> + "Suppose we stay here. I have a sudden childish desire to enter +that<br> + singular house. Do you see those window-frames painted red, and +the<br> + red lines on the doors and shutters? Doesn't the place look to +you as<br> + if it belonged to the devil?--perhaps he inherited it from the +monks.<br> + Come, let us pursue the black and white lady--forward, march!" +cried<br> + Philippe, with forced gaiety.</p> + +<p>At that instant the two huntsmen heard a cry that was +something like<br> + that of a mouse caught in a trap. They listened. The rustle of a +few<br> + shrubs sounded in the silence like the murmur of a breaking +wave. In<br> + vain they listened for other sounds; the earth was dumb, and +kept the<br> + secret of those light steps, if, indeed, the unknown woman moved +at<br> + all.</p> + +<p>"It is very singular!" said Philippe, as they skirted the park +wall.</p> + +<p>The two friends presently reached a path in the forest which +led to<br> + the village of Chauvry. After following this path some way +toward the<br> + main road to Paris, they came to another iron gate which led to +the<br> + principal facade of the mysterious dwelling. On this side +the<br> + dilapidation and disorder of the premises had reached their +height.<br> + Immense cracks furrowed the walls of the house, which was built +on<br> + three sides of a square. Fragments of tiles and slates lying on +the<br> + ground, and the dilapidated condition of the roofs, were +evidence of a<br> + total want of care on the part of the owners. The fruit had +fallen<br> + from the trees and lay rotting on the ground; a cow was feeding +on the<br> + lawn and treading down the flowers in the borders, while a +goat<br> + browsed on the shoots of the vines and munched the unripe +grapes.</p> + +<p>"Here all is harmony; the devastation seems organized," said +the<br> + colonel, pulling the chain of a bell; but the bell was without +a<br> + clapper.</p> + +<p>The huntsmen heard nothing but the curiously sharp noise of a +rusty<br> + spring. Though very dilapidated, a little door made in the wall +beside<br> + the iron gates resisted all their efforts to open it.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, this is getting to be exciting," said de Sucy to +his<br> + companion.</p> + +<p>"If I were not a magistrate," replied Monsieur d'Albon, "I +should<br> + think that woman was a witch."</p> + +<p>As he said the words, the cow came to the iron gate and pushed +her<br> + warm muzzle towards them, as if she felt the need of seeing +human<br> + beings. Then a woman, if that name could be applied to the +indefinable<br> + being who suddenly issued from a clump of bushes, pulled away +the cow<br> + by its rope. This woman wore on her head a red handkerchief, +beneath<br> + which trailed long locks of hair in color and shape like the +flax on a<br> + distaff. She wore no fichu. A coarse woollen petticoat in black +and<br> + gray stripes, too short by several inches, exposed her legs. She +might<br> + have belonged to some tribe of Red-Skins described by Cooper, +for her<br> + legs, neck, and arms were the color of brick. No ray of +intelligence<br> + enlivened her vacant face. A few whitish hairs served her +for<br> + eyebrows; the eyes themselves, of a dull blue, were cold and +wan; and<br> + her mouth was so formed as to show the teeth, which were +crooked, but<br> + as white as those of a dog.</p> + +<p>"Here, my good woman!" called Monsieur de Sucy.</p> + +<p>She came very slowly to the gate, looking with a silly +expression at<br> + the two huntsmen, the sight of whom brought a forced and painful +smile<br> + to her face.</p> + +<p>"Where are we? Whose house is this? Who are you? Do you belong +here?"</p> + +<p>To these questions and several others which the two +friends<br> + alternately addressed to her, she answered only with guttural +sounds<br> + that seemed more like the growl of an animal than the voice of a +human<br> + being.</p> + +<p>"She must be deaf and dumb," said the marquis.</p> + +<p>"Bons-Hommes!" cried the peasant woman.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see. This is, no doubt, the old monastery of the +Bons-Hommes,"<br> + said the marquis.</p> + +<p>He renewed his questions. But, like a capricious child, the +peasant<br> + woman colored, played with her wooden shoe, twisted the rope of +the<br> + cow, which was now feeding peaceably, and looked at the two +hunters,<br> + examining every part of their clothing; then she yelped, +growled, and<br> + clucked, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" said Philippe, looking at her fixedly, as +if he<br> + meant to mesmerize her.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve," she said, laughing with a silly air.</p> + +<p>"The cow is the most intelligent being we have seen so far," +said the<br> + marquis. "I shall fire my gun and see if that will being some +one."</p> + +<p>Just as d'Albon raised his gun, the colonel stopped him with +a<br> + gesture, and pointed to the form of a woman, probably the one +who had<br> + so keenly piqued his curiosity. At this moment she seemed lost +in the<br> + deepest meditation, and was coming with slow steps along a +distant<br> + pathway, so that the two friends had ample time to examine +her.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in a ragged gown of black satin. Her long hair +fell in<br> + masses of curls over her forehead, around her shoulders, and +below her<br> + waist, serving her for a shawl. Accustomed no doubt to this +disorder,<br> + she seldom pushed her hair from her forehead; and when she did +so, it<br> + was with a sudden toss of her head which only for a moment +cleared her<br> + forehead and eyes from the thick veil. Her gesture, like that of +an<br> + animal, had a remarkable mechanical precision, the quickness of +which<br> + seemed wonderful in a woman. The huntsmen were amazed to see +her<br> + suddenly leap up on the branch of an apple-tree, and sit there +with<br> + the ease of a bird. She gathered an apple and ate it; then she +dropped<br> + to the ground with the graceful ease we admire in a squirrel. +Her<br> + limbs possessed an elasticity which took from every movement +the<br> + slightest appearance of effort or constraint. She played upon +the<br> + turf, rolling herself about like a child; then, suddenly, she +flung<br> + her feet and hands forward, and lay at full length on the grass, +with<br> + the grace and natural ease of a young cat asleep in the sun. +Thunder<br> + sounded in the distance, and she turned suddenly, rising on her +hands<br> + and knees with the rapidity of a dog which hears a coming +footstep.</p> + +<p>The effects of this singular attitude was to separate into two +heavy<br> + masses the volume of her black hair, which now fell on either +side of<br> + her head, and allowed the two spectators to admire the white +shoulders<br> + glistening like daisies in a field, and the throat, the +perfection of<br> + which allowed them to judge of the other beauties of her +figure.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she uttered a distressful cry and rose to her feet. +Her<br> + movements succeeded each other with such airiness and grace that +she<br> + seemed not a creature of this world but a daughter of the +atmosphere,<br> + as sung in the poems of Ossian. She ran toward a piece of water, +shook<br> + one of her legs lightly to cast off her shoe, and began to +dabble her<br> + foot, white as alabaster, in the current, admiring, perhaps, +the<br> + undulations she thus produced upon the surface of the water. +Then she<br> + knelt down at the edge of the stream and amused herself, like a +child,<br> + in casting in her long tresses and pulling them abruptly out, to +watch<br> + the shower of drops that glittered down, looking, as the +sunlight<br> + struck athwart them, like a chaplet of pearls.</p> + +<p>"That woman is mad!" cried the marquis.</p> + +<p>A hoarse cry, uttered by Genevieve, seemed uttered as a +warning to the<br> + unknown woman, who turned suddenly, throwing back her hair from +either<br> + side of her face. At this instant the colonel and Monsieur +d'Albon<br> + could distinctly see her features; she, herself, perceiving the +two<br> + friends, sprang to the iron railing with the lightness and +rapidity of<br> + a deer.</p> + +<p>"Adieu!" she said, in a soft, harmonious voice, the melody of +which<br> + did not convey the slightest feeling or the slightest +thought.</p> + +<p>Monsieur d'Albon admired the long lashes of her eyelids, the +blackness<br> + of her eyebrows, and the dazzling whiteness of a skin devoid of +even<br> + the faintest tinge of color. Tiny blue veins alone broke the<br> + uniformity of its pure white tones. When the marquis turned to +his<br> + friend as if to share with him his amazement at the sight of +this<br> + singular creature, he found him stretched on the ground as if +dead.<br> + D'Albon fired his gun in the air to summon assistance, crying +out<br> + "Help! help!" and then endeavored to revive the colonel. At the +sound<br> + of the shot, the unknown woman, who had hitherto stood +motionless,<br> + fled away with the rapidity of an arrow, uttering cries of fear +like a<br> + wounded animal, and running hither and thither about the meadow +with<br> + every sign of the greatest terror.</p> + +<p>Monsieur d'Albon, hearing the rumbling of a carriage on the +high-road<br> + to Ile-Adam, waved his handkerchief and shouted to its occupants +for<br> + assistance. The carriage was immediately driven up to the +old<br> + monastery, and the marquis recognized his neighbors, Monsieur +and<br> + Madame de Granville, who at once gave up their carriage to the +service<br> + of the two gentlemen. Madame de Granville had with her, by +chance, a<br> + bottle of salts, which revived the colonel for a moment. When +he<br> + opened his eyes he turned them to the meadow, where the unknown +woman<br> + was still running and uttering her distressing cries. A +smothered<br> + exclamation escaped him, which seemed to express a sense of +horror;<br> + then he closed his eyes again, and made a gesture as if to +implore his<br> + friend to remove him from that sight.</p> + +<p>Monsieur and Madame de Granville placed their carriage +entirely at the<br> + disposal of the marquis, assuring him courteously that they +would like<br> + to continue their way on foot.</p> + +<p>"Who is that lady?" asked the marquis, signing toward the +unknown<br> + woman.</p> + +<p>"I believe she comes from Moulins," replied Monsieur de +Granville.<br> + "She is the Comtesse de Vandieres, and they say she is mad; but +as she<br> + has only been here two months I will not vouch for the truth of +these<br> + hearsays."</p> + +<p>Monsieur d'Albon thanked his friends, and placing the colonel +in the<br> + carriage, started with him for Cassan.</p> + +<p>"It is she!" cried Philippe, recovering his senses.</p> + +<p>"Who is she?" asked d'Albon.</p> + +<p>"Stephanie. Ah, dead and living, living and mad! I fancied I +was<br> + dying."</p> + +<p>The prudent marquis, appreciating the gravity of the crisis +through<br> + which his friend was passing, was careful not to question or +excite<br> + him; he was only anxious to reach the chateau, for the change +which<br> + had taken place in the colonel's features, in fact in his +whole<br> + person, made him fear for his friend's reason. As soon, +therefore, as<br> + the carriage had reached the main street of Ile-Adam, he +dispatched<br> + the footman to the village doctor, so that the colonel was no +sooner<br> + fairly in his bed at the chateau than the physician was beside +him.</p> + +<p>"If monsieur had not been many hours without food the shock +would have<br> + killed him," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>After naming the first precautions, the doctor left the room, +to<br> + prepare, himself, a calming potion. The next day, Monsieur de +Sucy was<br> + better, but the doctor still watched him carefully.</p> + +<p>"I will admit to you, monsieur le marquis," he said, "that I +have<br> + feared some affection of the brain. Monsieur de Sucy has +received a<br> + violent shock; his passions are strong; but, in him, the first +blow<br> + decides all. To-morrow he may be entirely out of danger."</p> + +<p>The doctor was not mistaken; and the following day he allowed +the<br> + marquis to see his friend.</p> + +<p>"My dear d'Albon," said Philippe, pressing his hand, "I am +going to<br> + ask a kindness of you. Go to the Bons-Hommes, and find out all +you can<br> + of the lady we saw there; and return to me as quickly as you +can; I<br> + shall count the minutes."</p> + +<p>Monsieur d'Albon mounted his horse at once, and galloped to +the old<br> + abbey. When he arrived there, he saw before the iron gate a +tall,<br> + spare man with a very kindly face, who answered in the +affirmative<br> + when asked if he lived there. Monsieur d'Albon then informed him +of<br> + the reasons for his visit.</p> + +<p>"What! monsieur," said the other, "was it you who fired that +fatal<br> + shot? You very nearly killed my poor patient."</p> + +<p>"But, monsieur, I fired in the air."</p> + +<p>"You would have done the countess less harm had you fired at +her."</p> + +<p>"Then we must not reproach each other, monsieur, for the sight +of the<br> + countess has almost killed my friend, Monsieur de Sucy."</p> + +<p>"Heavens! can you mean Baron Philippe de Sucy?" cried the +doctor,<br> + clasping his hands. "Did he go to Russia; was he at the passage +of the<br> + Beresina?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied d'Albon, "he was captured by the Cossacks and +kept for<br> + five years in Siberia; he recovered his liberty a few months +ago."</p> + +<p>"Come in, monsieur," said the master of the house, leading the +marquis<br> + into a room on the lower floor where everything bore the marks +of<br> + capricious destruction. The silken curtains beside the windows +were<br> + torn, while those of muslin remained intact.</p> + +<p>"You see," said the tall old man, as they entered, "the +ravages<br> + committed by that dear creature, to whom I devote myself. She is +my<br> + niece; in spite of the impotence of my art, I hope some day to +restore<br> + her reason by attempting a method which can only be +employed,<br> + unfortunately, by very rich people."</p> + +<p>Then, like all persons living in solitude who are afflicted +with an<br> + ever present and ever renewed grief, he related to the marquis +at<br> + length the following narrative, which is here condensed, and +relieved<br> + of the many digressions made by both the narrator and the +listener.</p> + +<p></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>THE PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA</h3> + +<p>Marechal Victor, when he started, about nine at night, from +the<br> + heights of Studzianka, which he had defended, as the rear-guard +of the<br> + retreating army, during the whole day of November 28th, 1812, +left a<br> + thousand men behind him, with orders to protect to the last +possible<br> + moment whichever of the two bridges across the Beresina might +still<br> + exist. This rear-guard had devoted itself to the task of saving +a<br> + frightful multitude of stragglers overcome by the cold, who<br> + obstinately refused to leave the bivouacs of the army. The +heroism of<br> + this generous troop proved useless. The stragglers who flocked +in<br> + masses to the banks of the Beresina found there, unhappily, an +immense<br> + number of carriages, caissons, and articles of all kinds which +the<br> + army had been forced to abandon when effecting its passage of +the<br> + river on the 27th and 28th of November. Heirs to such +unlooked-for<br> + riches, the unfortunate men, stupid with cold, took up their +abode in<br> + the deserted bivouacs, broke up the material which they found +there to<br> + build themselves cabins, made fuel of everything that came to +hand,<br> + cut up the frozen carcasses of the horses for food, tore the +cloth and<br> + the curtains from the carriages for coverlets, and went to +sleep,<br> + instead of continuing their way and crossing quietly during the +night<br> + that cruel Beresina, which an incredible fatality had already +made so<br> + destructive to the army.</p> + +<p><br> + The apathy of these poor soldiers can only be conceived by those +who<br> + remember to have crossed vast deserts of snow without other<br> + perspective than a snow horizon, without other drink than +snow,<br> + without other bed than snow, without other food than snow or a +few<br> + frozen beet-roots, a few handfuls of flour, or a little +horseflesh.<br> + Dying of hunger, thirst, fatigue, and want of sleep, these<br> + unfortunates reached a shore where they saw before them +wood,<br> + provisions, innumerable camp equipages, and carriages,--in short +a<br> + whole town at their service. The village of Studzianka had been +wholly<br> + taken to pieces and conveyed from the heights on which it stood +to the<br> + plain. However forlorn and dangerous that refuge might be, +its<br> + miseries and its perils only courted men who had lately seen +nothing<br> + before them but the awful deserts of Russia. It was, in fact, a +vast<br> + asylum which had an existence of twenty-four hours only.</p> + +<p>Utter lassitude, and the sense of unexpected comfort, made +that mass<br> + of men inaccessible to every thought but that of rest. Though +the<br> + artillery of the left wing of the Russians kept up a steady fire +on<br> + this mass,--visible like a stain now black, now flaming, in the +midst<br> + of the trackless snow,--this shot and shell seemed to the +torpid<br> + creatures only one inconvenience the more. It was like a +thunderstorm,<br> + despised by all because the lightning strikes so few; the balls +struck<br> + only here and there, the dying, the sick, the dead +sometimes!<br> + Stragglers arrived in groups continually; but once here +those<br> + perambulating corpses separated; each begged for himself a place +near<br> + a fire; repulsed repeatedly, they met again, to obtain by force +the<br> + hospitality already refused to them. Deaf to the voice of some +of<br> + their officers, who warned them of probable destruction on the +morrow,<br> + they spent the amount of courage necessary to cross the river +in<br> + building that asylum of a night, in making one meal that +they<br> + themselves doomed to be their last. The death that awaited them +they<br> + considered no evil, provided they could have that one night's +sleep.<br> + They thought nothing evil but hunger, thirst, and cold. When +there was<br> + no more wood or food or fire, horrible struggles took place +between<br> + fresh-comers and the rich who possessed a shelter. The +weakest<br> + succumbed.</p> + +<p>At last there came a moment when a number, pursued by the +Russians,<br> + found only snow on which to bivouac, and these lay down to rise +no<br> + more. Insensibly this mass of almost annihilated beings became +so<br> + compact, so deaf, so torpid, so happy perhaps, that Marechal +Victor,<br> + who had been their heroic defender by holding twenty thousand +Russians<br> + under Wittgenstein at bay, was forced to open a passage by main +force<br> + through this forest of men in order to cross the Beresina with +five<br> + thousand gallant fellows whom he was taking to the emperor. +The<br> + unfortunate malingerers allowed themselves to be crushed rather +than<br> + stir; they perished in silence, smiling at their extinguished +fires,<br> + without a thought of France.</p> + +<p>It was not until ten o'clock that night that Marechal Victor +reached<br> + the bank of the river. Before crossing the bridge which led to +Zembin,<br> + he confided the fate of his own rear-guard now left in +Studzianka to<br> + Eble, the savior of all those who survived the calamities of +the<br> + Beresina. It was towards midnight when this great general, +followed by<br> + one brave officer, left the cabin he occupied near the bridge, +and<br> + studied the spectacle of that improvised camp placed between the +bank<br> + of the river and Studzianka. The Russian cannon had ceased to +thunder.<br> + Innumerable fires, which, amid that trackless waste of snow, +burned<br> + pale and scarcely sent out any gleams, illumined here and there +by<br> + sudden flashes forms and faces that were barely human. Thirty +thousand<br> + poor wretches, belonging to all nations, from whom Napoleon +had<br> + recruited his Russian army, were trifling away their lives +with<br> + brutish indifference.</p> + +<p>"Let us save them!" said General Eble to the officer who +accompanied<br> + him. "To-morrow morning the Russians will be masters of +Studzianka. We<br> + must burn the bridge the moment they appear. Therefore, my +friend,<br> + take your courage in your hand! Go to the heights. Tell +General<br> + Fournier he has barely time to evacuate his position, force a +way<br> + through this crowd, and cross the bridge. When you have seen him +in<br> + motion follow him. Find men you can trust, and the moment +Fournier had<br> + crossed the bridge, burn, without pity, huts, equipages, +caissons,<br> + carriages,--EVERYTHING! Drive that mass of men to the bridge. +Compel<br> + all that has two legs to get to the other side of the river. +The<br> + burning of everything--EVERYTHING--is now our last resource. +If<br> + Berthier had let me destroy those damned camp equipages, this +river<br> + would swallow only my poor pontoniers, those fifty heroes who +will<br> + save the army, but who themselves will be forgotten."</p> + +<p>The general laid his hand on his forehead and was silent. He +felt that<br> + Poland would be his grave, and that no voice would rise to do +justice<br> + to those noble men who stood in the water, the icy water of +Beresina,<br> + to destroy the buttresses of the bridges. One alone of those +heroes<br> + still lives--or, to speak more correctly, suffers--in a +village,<br> + totally ignored.</p> + +<p>The aide-de-camp started. Hardly had this generous officer +gone a<br> + hundred yards towards Studzianka than General Eble wakened a +number of<br> + his weary pontoniers, and began the work,--the charitable work +of<br> + burning the bivouacs set up about the bridge, and forcing +the<br> + sleepers, thus dislodged, to cross the river.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the young aide-de-camp reached, not without +difficulty, the<br> + only wooden house still left standing in Studzianka.</p> + +<p>"This barrack seems pretty full, comrade," he said to a man +whom he<br> + saw by the doorway.</p> + +<p>"If you can get in you'll be a clever trooper," replied the +officer,<br> + without turning his head or ceasing to slice off with his sabre +the<br> + bark of the logs of which the house was built.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Philippe?" said the aide-de-camp, recognizing a +friend<br> + by the tones of his voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Ha, ha! is it you, old fellow?" replied Monsieur de +Sucy,<br> + looking at the aide-de-camp, who, like himself, was only +twenty-three<br> + years of age. "I thought you were the other side of that cursed +river.<br> + What are you here for? Have you brought cakes and wine for +our<br> + dessert? You'll be welcome," and he went on slicing off the +bark,<br> + which he gave as a sort of provender to his horse.</p> + +<p>"I am looking for your commander to tell him, from General +Eble, to<br> + make for Zembin. You'll have barely enough time to get through +that<br> + crowd of men below. I am going presently to set fire to their +camp and<br> + force them to march."</p> + +<p>"You warm me up--almost! That news makes me perspire. I have +two<br> + friends I MUST save. Ah! without those two to cling to me, I +should be<br> + dead already. It is for them that I feed my horse and don't +eat<br> + myself. Have you any food,--a mere crust? It is thirty hours +since<br> + anything has gone into my stomach, and yet I have fought like a +madman<br> + --just to keep a little warmth and courage in me."</p> + +<p>"Poor Philippe, I have nothing--nothing! But where's your +general,--in<br> + this house?"</p> + +<p>"No, don't go there; the place is full of wounded. Go up the +street;<br> + you'll find on your left a sort of pig-pen; the general is +there.<br> + Good-bye, old fellow. If we ever dance a trenis on a Paris +floor--"</p> + +<p>He did not end his sentence; the north wind blew at that +moment with<br> + such ferocity that the aide-de-camp hurried on to escape being +frozen,<br> + and the lips of Major de Sucy stiffened. Silence reigned, broken +only<br> + by the moans which came from the house, and the dull sound made +by the<br> + major's horse as it chewed in a fury of hunger the icy bark of +the<br> + trees with which the house was built. Monsieur de Sucy replaced +his<br> + sabre in its scabbard, took the bridle of the precious horse he +had<br> + hitherto been able to preserve, and led it, in spite of the +animal's<br> + resistance, from the wretched fodder it appeared to think +excellent.</p> + +<p>"We'll start, Bichette, we'll start! There's none but you, my +beauty,<br> + who can save Stephanie. Ha! by and bye you and I may be able to +rest--<br> + and die," he added.</p> + +<p>Philippe, wrapped in a fur pelisse, to which he owed his +preservation<br> + and his energy, began to run, striking his feet hard upon the +frozen<br> + snow to keep them warm. Scarcely had he gone a few hundred yards +from<br> + the village than he saw a blaze in the direction of the place +where,<br> + since morning, he had left his carriage in charge of his +former<br> + orderly, an old soldier. Horrible anxiety laid hold of him. Like +all<br> + others who were controlled during this fatal retreat by some +powerful<br> + sentiment, he found a strength to save his friends which he +could not<br> + have put forth to save himself.</p> + +<p>Presently he reached a slight declivity at the foot of which, +in a<br> + spot sheltered from the enemy's balls, he had stationed the +carriage,<br> + containing a young woman, the companion of his childhood, the +being<br> + most dear to him on earth. At a few steps distant from the +vehicle he<br> + now found a company of some thirty stragglers collected around +an<br> + immense fire, which they were feeding with planks, caisson +covers,<br> + wheels, and broken carriages. These soldiers were, no doubt, the +last<br> + comers of that crowd who, from the base of the hill of +Studzianka to<br> + the fatal river, formed an ocean of heads intermingled with +fires and<br> + huts,--a living sea, swayed by motions that were almost +imperceptible,<br> + and giving forth a murmuring sound that rose at times to +frightful<br> + outbursts. Driven by famine and despair, these poor wretches +must have<br> + rifled the carriage before de Sucy reached it. The old general +and his<br> + young wife, whom he had left lying in piles of clothes and +wrapped in<br> + mantles and pelisses, were now on the snow, crouching before the +fire.<br> + One door of the carriage was already torn off.</p> + +<p>No sooner did the men about the fire hear the tread of the +major's<br> + horse than a hoarse cry, the cry of famine, arose,--</p> + +<p>"A horse! a horse!"</p> + +<p>Those voices formed but one voice.</p> + +<p>"Back! back! look out for yourself!" cried two or three +soldiers,<br> + aiming at the mare. Philippe threw himself before his animal, +crying<br> + out,--</p> + +<p>"You villains! I'll throw you into your own fire. There are +plenty of<br> + dead horses up there. Go and fetch them."</p> + +<p>"Isn't he a joker, that officer! One, two--get out of the +way," cried<br> + a colossal grenadier. "No, you won't, hey! Well, as you please, +then."</p> + +<p>A woman's cry rose higher than the report of the musket. +Philippe<br> + fortunately was not touched, but Bichette, mortally wounded, +was<br> + struggling in the throes of death. Three men darted forward +and<br> + dispatched her with their bayonets.</p> + +<p>"Cannibals!" cried Philippe, "let me at any rate take the +horse-cloth<br> + and my pistols."</p> + +<p>"Pistols, yes," replied the grenadier. "But as for that +horse-cloth,<br> + no! here's a poor fellow afoot, with nothing in his stomach for +two<br> + days, and shivering in his rags. It is our general."</p> + +<p>Philippe kept silence as he looked at the man, whose boots +were worn<br> + out, his trousers torn in a dozen places, while nothing but a +ragged<br> + fatigue-cap covered with ice was on his head. He hastened, +however, to<br> + take his pistols. Five men dragged the mare to the fire, and cut +her<br> + up with the dexterity of a Parisian butcher. The pieces were +instantly<br> + seized and flung upon the embers.</p> + +<p>The major went up to the young woman, who had uttered a cry +on<br> + recognizing him. He found her motionless, seated on a cushion +beside<br> + the fire. She looked at him silently, without smiling. Philippe +then<br> + saw the soldier to whom he had confided the carriage; the man +was<br> + wounded. Overcome by numbers, he had been forced to yield to +the<br> + malingerers who attacked him; and, like the dog who defended to +the<br> + last possible moment his master's dinner, he had taken his share +of<br> + the booty, and was now sitting beside the fire, wrapped in a +white<br> + sheet by way of cloak, and turning carefully on the embers a +slice of<br> + the mare. Philippe saw upon his face the joy these preparations +gave<br> + him. The Comte de Vandieres, who, for the last few days, had +fallen<br> + into a state of second childhood, was seated on a cushion beside +his<br> + wife, looking fixedly at the fire, which was beginning to thaw +his<br> + torpid limbs. He had shown no emotion of any kind, either at<br> + Philippe's danger, or at the fight which ended in the pillage of +the<br> + carriage and their expulsion from it.</p> + +<p>At first de Sucy took the hand of the young countess, as if to +show<br> + her his affection, and the grief he felt at seeing her reduced +to such<br> + utter misery; then he grew silent; seated beside her on a heap +of snow<br> + which was turning into a rivulet as it melted, he yielded +himself up<br> + to the happiness of being warm, forgetting their peril, +forgetting all<br> + things. His face assumed, in spite of himself, an expression of +almost<br> + stupid joy, and he waited with impatience until the fragment of +the<br> + mare given to his orderly was cooked. The smell of the roasting +flesh<br> + increased his hunger, and his hunger silenced his heart, his +courage,<br> + and his love. He looked, without anger, at the results of the +pillage<br> + of his carriage. All the men seated around the fire had shared +his<br> + blankets, cushions, pelisses, robes, also the clothing of the +Comte<br> + and Comtesse de Vandieres and his own. Philippe looked about him +to<br> + see if there was anything left in or near the vehicle that was +worth<br> + saving. By the light of the flames he saw gold and diamonds and +plate<br> + scattered everywhere, no one having thought it worth his while +to take<br> + any.</p> + +<p>Each of the individuals collected by chance around this +fire<br> + maintained a silence that was almost horrible, and did nothing +but<br> + what he judged necessary for his own welfare. Their misery was +even<br> + grotesque. Faces, discolored by cold, were covered with a layer +of<br> + mud, on which tears had made a furrow from the eyes to the +beard,<br> + showing the thickness of that miry mask. The filth of their +long<br> + beards made these men still more repulsive. Some were wrapped in +the<br> + countess's shawls, others wore the trappings of horses and +muddy<br> + saddlecloths, or masses of rags from which the hoar-frost hung; +some<br> + had a boot on one leg and a shoe on the other; in fact, there +were<br> + none whose costume did not present some laughable singularity. +But in<br> + presence of such amusing sights the men themselves were grave +and<br> + gloomy. The silence was broken only by the snapping of the wood, +the<br> + crackling of the flames, the distant murmur of the camps, and +the<br> + blows of the sabre given to what remained of Bichette in search +of her<br> + tenderest morsels. A few miserable creatures, perhaps more weary +than<br> + the rest, were sleeping; when one of their number rolled into +the fire<br> + no one attempted to help him out. These stern logicians argued +that if<br> + he were not dead his burns would warn him to find a safer place. +If<br> + the poor wretch waked in the flames and perished, no one cared. +Two or<br> + three soldiers looked at each other to justify their own +indifference<br> + by that of others. Twice this scene had taken place before the +eyes of<br> + the countess, who said nothing. When the various pieces of +Bichette,<br> + placed here and there upon the embers, were sufficiently +broiled, each<br> + man satisfied his hunger with the gluttony that disgusts us when +we<br> + see it in animals.</p> + +<p>"This is the first time I ever saw thirty infantrymen on one +horse,"<br> + cried the grenadier who had shot the mare.</p> + +<p>It was the only jest made that night which proved the +national<br> + character.</p> + +<p>Soon the great number of these poor soldiers wrapped +themselves in<br> + what they could find and lay down on planks, or whatever would +keep<br> + them from contact with the snow, and slept, heedless of the +morrow.<br> + When the major was warm, and his hunger appeased, an invincible +desire<br> + to sleep weighed down his eyelids. During the short moment of +his<br> + struggle against that desire he looked at the young woman, who +had<br> + turned her face to the fire and was now asleep, leaving her +closed<br> + eyes and a portion of her forehead exposed to sight. She was +wrapped<br> + in a furred pelisse and a heavy dragoon's cloak; her head rested +on a<br> + pillow stained with blood; an astrakhan hood, kept in place by +a<br> + handkerchief knotted round her neck, preserved her face from the +cold<br> + as much as possible. Her feet were wrapped in the cloak. Thus +rolled<br> + into a bundle, as it were, she looked like nothing at all. Was +she the<br> + last of the "vivandieres"? Was she a charming woman, the glory +of a<br> + lover, the queen of Parisian salons? Alas! even the eye of her +most<br> + devoted friend could trace no sign of anything feminine in that +mass<br> + of rags and tatters. Love had succumbed to cold in the heart of +a<br> + woman!</p> + +<p>Through the thick veils of irresistible sleep, the major soon +saw the<br> + husband and wife as mere points or formless objects. The flames +of the<br> + fire, those outstretched figures, the relentless cold, waiting, +not<br> + three feet distant from that fugitive heat, became all a dream. +One<br> + importunate thought terrified Philippe:</p> + +<p>"If I sleep, we shall all die; I will not sleep," he said to +himself.</p> + +<p>And yet he slept.</p> + +<p>A terrible clamor and an explosion awoke him an hour later. +The sense<br> + of his duty, the peril of his friend, fell suddenly on his +heart. He<br> + uttered a cry that was like a roar. He and his orderly were +alone<br> + afoot. A sea of fire lay before them in the darkness of the +night,<br> + licking up the cabins and the bivouacs; cries of despair, howls, +and<br> + imprecations reached their ears; they saw against the flames +thousands<br> + of human beings with agonized or furious faces. In the midst of +that<br> + hell, a column of soldiers was forcing its way to the bridge, +between<br> + two hedges of dead bodies.</p> + +<p>"It is the retreat of the rear-guard!" cried the major. "All +hope is<br> + gone!"</p> + +<p>"I have saved your carriage, Philippe," said a friendly +voice.</p> + +<p>Turning round, de Sucy recognized the young aide-de-camp in +the<br> + flaring of the flames.</p> + +<p>"Ah! all is lost!" replied the major, "they have eaten my +horse; and<br> + how can I make this stupid general and his wife walk?"</p> + +<p>"Take a brand from the fire and threaten them."</p> + +<p>"Threaten the countess!"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said the aide-de-camp, "I have scarcely time to +get across<br> + that fatal river--and I MUST; I have a mother in France. What a +night!<br> + These poor wretches prefer to lie here in the snow; half will +allow<br> + themselves to perish in those flames rather than rise and move +on. It<br> + is four o'clock, Philippe! In two hours the Russians will begin +to<br> + move. I assure you you will again see the Beresina choked +with<br> + corpses. Philippe! think of yourself! You have no horses, you +cannot<br> + carry the countess in your arms. Come--come with me!" he +said<br> + urgently, pulling de Sucy by the arm.</p> + +<p>"My friend! abandon Stephanie!"</p> + +<p>De Sucy seized the countess, made her stand upright, shook her +with<br> + the roughness of a despairing man, and compelled her to wake up. +She<br> + looked at him with fixed, dead eyes.</p> + +<p>"You must walk, Stephanie, or we shall all die here."</p> + +<p>For all answer the countess tried to drop again upon the snow +and<br> + sleep. The aide-de-camp seized a brand from the fire and waved +it in<br> + her face.</p> + +<p>"We will save her in spite of herself!" cried Philippe, +lifting the<br> + countess and placing her in the carriage.</p> + +<p>He returned to implore the help of his friend. Together they +lifted<br> + the old general, without knowing whether he were dead or alive, +and<br> + put him beside his wife. The major then rolled over the men who +were<br> + sleeping on his blankets, which he tossed into the carriage, +together<br> + with some roasted fragments of his mare.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean to do?" asked the aide-de-camp.</p> + +<p>"Drag them."</p> + +<p>"You are crazy."</p> + +<p>"True," said Philippe, crossing his arms in despair.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, he was seized by a last despairing thought.</p> + +<p>"To you," he said, grasping the sound arm of his orderly, "I +confide<br> + her for one hour. Remember that you must die sooner than let any +one<br> + approach her."</p> + +<p>The major then snatched up the countess's diamonds, held them +in one<br> + hand, drew his sabre with the other, and began to strike with +the flat<br> + of its blade such of the sleepers as he thought the most +intrepid. He<br> + succeeded in awaking the colossal grenadier, and two other men +whose<br> + rank it was impossible to tell.</p> + +<p>"We are done for!" he said.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said the grenadier, "but I don't care."</p> + +<p>"Well, death for death, wouldn't you rather sell your life for +a<br> + pretty woman, and take your chances of seeing France?"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather sleep," said a man, rolling over on the snow, "and +if you<br> + trouble me again, I'll stick my bayonet into your stomach."</p> + +<p>"What is the business, my colonel?" said the grenadier. "That +man is<br> + drunk; he's a Parisian; he likes his ease."</p> + +<p>"That is yours, my brave grenadier," cried the major, offering +him a<br> + string of diamonds, "if you will follow me and fight like a +madman.<br> + The Russians are ten minutes' march from here; they have horses; +we<br> + are going up to their first battery for a pair."</p> + +<p>"But the sentinels?"</p> + +<p>"One of us three--" he interrupted himself, and turned to the +aide-de-<br> + camp. "You will come, Hippolyte, won't you?"</p> + +<p>Hippolyte nodded.</p> + +<p>"One of us," continued the major, "will take care of the +sentinel.<br> + Besides, perhaps they are asleep too, those cursed +Russians."</p> + +<p>"Forward! major, you're a brave one! But you'll give me a lift +on your<br> + carriage?" said the grenadier.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you don't leave your skin up there-- If I fall, +Hippolyte,<br> + and you, grenadier, promise me to do your utmost to save the<br> + countess."</p> + +<p>"Agreed!" cried the grenadier.</p> + +<p>They started for the Russian lines, toward one of the +batteries which<br> + had so decimated the hapless wretches lying on the banks of the +river.<br> + A few moments later, the gallop of two horses echoed over the +snow,<br> + and the wakened artillery men poured out a volley which ranged +above<br> + the heads of the sleeping men. The pace of the horses was so +fleet<br> + that their steps resounded like the blows of a blacksmith on +his<br> + anvil. The generous aide-de-camp was killed. The athletic +grenadier<br> + was safe and sound. Philippe in defending Hippolyte had received +a<br> + bayonet in his shoulder; but he clung to his horse's mane, and +clasped<br> + him so tightly with his knees that the animal was held as in a +vice.</p> + +<p>"God be praised!" cried the major, finding his orderly +untouched, and<br> + the carriage in its place.</p> + +<p>"If you are just, my officer, you will get me the cross for +this,"<br> + said the man. "We've played a fine game of guns and sabres here, +I can<br> + tell you."</p> + +<p>"We have done nothing yet-- Harness the horses. Take these +ropes."</p> + +<p>"They are not long enough."</p> + +<p>"Grenadier, turn over those sleepers, and take their shawls +and linen,<br> + to eke out."</p> + +<p>"Tiens! that's one dead," said the grenadier, stripping the +first man<br> + he came to. "Bless me! what a joke, they are all dead!"</p> + +<p>"All?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, all; seems as if horse-meat must be indigestible if +eaten with<br> + snow."</p> + +<p>The words made Philippe tremble. The cold was increasing.</p> + +<p>"My God! to lose the woman I have saved a dozen times!"</p> + +<p>The major shook the countess.</p> + +<p>"Stephanie! Stephanie!"</p> + +<p>The young woman opened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Madame! we are saved."</p> + +<p>"Saved!" she repeated, sinking down again.</p> + +<p>The horses were harnessed as best they could. The major, +holding his<br> + sabre in his well hand, with his pistols in his belt, gathered +up the<br> + reins with the other hand and mounted one horse while the +grenadier<br> + mounted the other. The orderly, whose feet were frozen, was +thrown<br> + inside the carriage, across the general and the countess. +Excited by<br> + pricks from a sabre, the horses drew the carriage rapidly, with +a sort<br> + of fury, to the plain, where innumerable obstacles awaited it. +It was<br> + impossible to force a way without danger of crushing the +sleeping men,<br> + women, and even children, who refused to move when the grenadier +awoke<br> + them. In vain did Monsieur de Sucy endeavor to find the swathe +cut by<br> + the rear-guard through the mass of human beings; it was +already<br> + obliterated, like the wake of a vessel through the sea. They +could<br> + only creep along, being often stopped by soldiers who threatened +to<br> + kill their horses.</p> + +<p><br> + "Do you want to reach the bridge?" said the grenadier.</p> + +<p>"At the cost of my life--at the cost of the whole world!"</p> + +<p>"Then forward, march! you can't make omelets without breaking +eggs."</p> + +<p>And the grenadier of the guard urged the horses over men and +bivouacs<br> + with bloody wheels and a double line of corpses on either side +of<br> + them. We must do him the justice to say that he never spared +his<br> + breath in shouting in stentorian tones,--</p> + +<p>"Look out there, carrion!"</p> + +<p>"Poor wretches!" cried the major.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! that or the cold, that or the cannon," said the +grenadier,<br> + prodding the horses, and urging them on.</p> + +<p>A catastrophe, which might well have happened to them much +sooner, put<br> + a stop to their advance. The carriage was overturned.</p> + +<p>"I expected it," cried the imperturbable grenadier. "Ho! ho! +your man<br> + is dead."</p> + +<p>"Poor Laurent!" said the major.</p> + +<p>"Laurent? Was he in the 5th chasseurs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then he was my cousin. Oh, well, this dog's life isn't happy +enough<br> + to waste any joy in grieving for him."</p> + +<p>The carriage could not be raised; the horses were taken out +with<br> + serious and, as it proved, irreparable loss of time. The shock +of the<br> + overturn was so violent that the young countess, roused from +her<br> + lethargy, threw off her coverings and rose.</p> + +<p>"Philippe, where are we?" she cried in a gentle voice, looking +about<br> + her.</p> + +<p>"Only five hundred feet from the bridge. We are now going to +cross the<br> + Beresina, Stephanie, and once across I will not torment you any +more;<br> + you shall sleep; we shall be in safety, and can reach Wilna +easily.--<br> + God grant that she may never know what her life has cost!" he +thought.</p> + +<p>"Philippe! you are wounded!"</p> + +<p>"That is nothing."</p> + +<p>Too late! the fatal hour had come. The Russian cannon sounded +the<br> + reveille. Masters of Studzianka, they could sweep the plain, and +by<br> + daylight the major could see two of their columns moving and +forming<br> + on the heights. A cry of alarm arose from the multitude, who +started<br> + to their feet in an instant. Every man now understood his +danger<br> + instinctively, and the whole mass rushed to gain the bridge with +the<br> + motion of a wave.</p> + +<p>The Russians came down with the rapidity of a conflagration. +Men,<br> + women, children, horses,--all rushed tumultuously to the +bridge.<br> + Fortunately the major, who was carrying the countess, was still +some<br> + distance from it. General Eble had just set fire to the supports +on<br> + the other bank. In spite of the warnings shouted to those who +were<br> + rushing upon the bridge, not a soul went back. Not only did the +bridge<br> + go down crowded with human beings, but the impetuosity of that +flood<br> + of men toward the fatal bank was so furious that a mass of +humanity<br> + poured itself violently into the river like an avalanche. Not a +cry<br> + was heard; the only sound was like the dropping of monstrous +stones<br> + into the water. Then the Beresina was a mass of floating +corpses.</p> + +<p>The retrograde movement of those who now fell back into the +plain to<br> + escape the death before them was so violent, and their +concussion<br> + against those who were advancing from the rear so terrible, +that<br> + numbers were smothered or trampled to death. The Comte and +Comtesse de<br> + Vandieres owed their lives to their carriage, behind which +Philippe<br> + forced them, using it as a breastwork. As for the major and +the<br> + grenadier, they found their safety in their strength. They +killed to<br> + escape being killed.</p> + +<p>This hurricane of human beings, the flux and reflux of living +bodies,<br> + had the effect of leaving for a few short moments the whole bank +of<br> + the Beresina deserted. The multitude were surging to the plain. +If a<br> + few men rushed to the river, it was less in the hope of reaching +the<br> + other bank, which to them was France, than to rush from the +horrors of<br> + Siberia. Despair proved an aegis to some bold hearts. One +officer<br> + sprang from ice-cake to ice-cake, and reached the opposite +shore. A<br> + soldier clambered miraculously over mounds of dead bodies and +heaps of<br> + ice. The multitude finally comprehended that the Russians would +not<br> + put to death a body of twenty thousand men, without arms, +torpid,<br> + stupid, unable to defend themselves; and each man awaited his +fate<br> + with horrible resignation. Then the major and the grenadier, +the<br> + general and his wife, remained almost alone on the river bank, a +few<br> + steps from the spot where the bridge had been. They stood there, +with<br> + dry eyes, silent, surrounded by heaps of dead. A few sound +soldiers, a<br> + few officers to whom the emergency had restored their natural +energy,<br> + were near them. This group consisted of some fifty men in all. +The<br> + major noticed at a distance of some two hundred yards the +remains of<br> + another bridge intended for carriages and destroyed the day +before.</p> + +<p>"Let us make a raft!" he cried.</p> + +<p>He had hardly uttered the words before the whole group rushed +to the<br> + ruins, and began to pick up iron bolts, and screws, and pieces +of wood<br> + and ropes, whatever materials they could find that were suitable +for<br> + the construction of a raft. A score of soldiers and officers, +who were<br> + armed, formed a guard, commanded by the major, to protect the +workers<br> + against the desperate attacks which might be expected from the +crowd,<br> + if their scheme was discovered. The instinct of freedom, strong +in all<br> + prisoners, inspiring them to miraculous acts, can only be +compared<br> + with that which now drove to action these unfortunate +Frenchmen.</p> + +<p>"The Russians! the Russians are coming!" cried the defenders +to the<br> + workers; and the work went on, the raft increased in length +and<br> + breadth and depth. Generals, soldiers, colonel, all put +their<br> + shoulders to the wheel; it was a true image of the building of +Noah's<br> + ark. The young countess, seated beside her husband, watched +the<br> + progress of the work with regret that she could not help it; and +yet<br> + she did assist in making knots to secure the cordage.</p> + +<p>At last the raft was finished. Forty men launched it on the +river, a<br> + dozen others holding the cords which moored it to the shore. But +no<br> + sooner had the builders seen their handiwork afloat, than they +sprang<br> + from the bank with odious selfishness. The major, fearing the +fury of<br> + this first rush, held back the countess and the general, but too +late<br> + he saw the whole raft covered, men pressing together like crowds +at a<br> + theatre.</p> + +<p>"Savages!" he cried, "it was I who gave you the idea of that +raft. I<br> + have saved you, and you deny me a place."</p> + +<p>A confused murmur answered him. The men at the edge of the +raft, armed<br> + with long sticks, pressed with violence against the shore to +send off<br> + the frail construction with sufficient impetus to force its +way<br> + through corpses and ice-floes to the other shore.</p> + +<p>"Thunder of heaven! I'll sweep you into the water if you don't +take<br> + the major and his two companions," cried the stalwart grenadier, +who<br> + swung his sabre, stopped the departure, and forced the men to +stand<br> + closer in spite of furious outcries.</p> + +<p>"I shall fall,"--"I am falling,"--"Push off! push +off!--Forward!"<br> + resounded on all sides.</p> + +<p>The major looked with haggard eyes at Stephanie, who lifted +hers to<br> + heaven with a feeling of sublime resignation.</p> + +<p>"To die with thee!" she said.</p> + +<p>There was something even comical in the position of the men +in<br> + possession of the raft. Though they were uttering awful groans +and<br> + imprecations, they dared not resist the grenadier, for in truth +they<br> + were so closely packed together, that a push to one man might +send<br> + half of them overboard. This danger was so pressing that a +cavalry<br> + captain endeavored to get rid of the grenadier; but the latter, +seeing<br> + the hostile movement of the officer, seized him round the waist +and<br> + flung him into the water, crying out,--</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! my duck, do you want to drink? Well, then, drink!-- +Here are<br> + two places," he cried. "Come, major, toss me the little woman +and<br> + follow yourself. Leave that old fossil, who'll be dead by +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Make haste!" cried the voice of all, as one man.</p> + +<p>"Come, major, they are grumbling, and they have a right to do +so."</p> + +<p>The Comte de Vandieres threw off his wrappings and showed +himself in<br> + his general's uniform.</p> + +<p>"Let us save the count," said Philippe.</p> + +<p>Stephanie pressed his hand, and throwing herself on his +breast, she<br> + clasped him tightly.</p> + +<p>"Adieu!" she said.</p> + +<p>They had understood each other.</p> + +<p>The Comte de Vandieres recovered sufficient strength and +presence of<br> + mind to spring upon the raft, whither Stephanie followed him, +after<br> + turning a last look to Philippe.</p> + +<p>"Major! will you take my place? I don't care a fig for life," +cried<br> + the grenadier. "I've neither wife nor child nor mother."</p> + +<p>"I confide them to your care," said the major, pointing to the +count<br> + and his wife.</p> + +<p>"Then be easy; I'll care for them, as though they were my very +eyes."</p> + +<p>The raft was now sent off with so much violence toward the +opposite<br> + side of the river, that as it touched ground, the shock was felt +by<br> + all. The count, who was at the edge of it, lost his balance and +fell<br> + into the river; as he fell, a cake of sharp ice caught him, and +cut<br> + off his head, flinging it to a great distance.</p> + +<p>"See there! major!" cried the grenadier.</p> + +<p>"Adieu!" said a woman's voice.</p> + +<p>Philippe de Sucy fell to the ground, overcome with horror and +fatigue.</p> + +<p></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE CURE</h3> + +<p>"My poor niece became insane," continued the physician, after +a few<br> + moment's silence. "Ah! monsieur," he said, seizing the marquis's +hand,<br> + "life has been awful indeed for that poor little woman, so +young, so<br> + delicate! After being, by dreadful fatality, separated from +the<br> + grenadier, whose name was Fleuriot, she was dragged about for +two<br> + years at the heels of the army, the plaything of a crowd of +wretches.<br> + She was often, they tell me, barefooted, and scarcely clothed; +for<br> + months together, she had no care, no food but what she could +pick up;<br> + sometimes kept in hospitals, sometimes driven away like an +animal, God<br> + alone knows the horrors that poor unfortunate creature has +survived.<br> + She was locked up in a madhouse, in a little town in Germany, at +the<br> + time her relatives, thinking her dead, divided her property. In +1816,<br> + the grenadier Fleuriot was at an inn in Strasburg, where she +went<br> + after making her escape from the madhouse. Several peasants told +the<br> + grenadier that she had lived for a whole month in the forest, +where<br> + they had tracked her in vain, trying to catch her, but she had +always<br> + escaped them. I was then staying a few miles from Strasburg. +Hearing<br> + much talk of a wild woman caught in the woods, I felt a desire +to<br> + ascertain the truth of the ridiculous stories which were current +about<br> + her. What were my feelings on beholding my own niece! Fleuriot +told me<br> + all he knew of her dreadful history. I took the poor man with my +niece<br> + back to my home in Auvergne, where, unfortunately, I lost him +some<br> + months later. He had some slight control over Madame de +Vandieres; he<br> + alone could induce her to wear clothing. 'Adieu,' that word, +which is<br> + her only language, she seldom uttered at that time. Fleuriot +had<br> + endeavored to awaken in her a few ideas, a few memories of the +past;<br> + but he failed; all that he gained was to make her say that +melancholy<br> + word a little oftener. Still, the grenadier knew how to amuse +her and<br> + play with her; my hope was in him, but--"</p> + +<p><br> + He was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Here," he continued, "she has found another creature, with +whom she<br> + seems to have some strange understanding. It is a poor +idiotic<br> + peasant-girl, who, in spite of her ugliness and stupidity, loved +a<br> + man, a mason. The mason was willing to marry her, as she had +some<br> + property. Poor Genevieve was happy for a year; she dressed in +her best<br> + to dance with her lover on Sunday; she comprehended love; in her +heart<br> + and soul there was room for that one sentiment. But the mason, +Dallot,<br> + reflected. He found a girl with all her senses, and more land +than<br> + Genevieve, and he deserted the poor creature. Since then she has +lost<br> + the little intellect that love developed in her; she can do +nothing<br> + but watch the cows, or help at harvesting. My niece and this +poor girl<br> + are friends, apparently by some invisible chain of their +common<br> + destiny, by the sentiment in each which has caused their +madness.<br> + See!" added Stephanie's uncle, leading the marquis to a +window.</p> + +<p>The latter then saw the countess seated on the ground +between<br> + Genevieve's legs. The peasant-girl, armed with a huge horn comb, +was<br> + giving her whole attention to the work of disentangling the long +black<br> + hair of the poor countess, who was uttering little stifled +cries,<br> + expressive of some instinctive sense of pleasure. Monsieur +d'Albon<br> + shuddered as he saw the utter abandonment of the body, the +careless<br> + animal ease which revealed in the hapless woman a total absence +of<br> + soul.</p> + +<p>"Philippe, Philippe!" he muttered, "the past horrors are +nothing!--Is<br> + there no hope?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The old physician raised his eyes to heaven.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, monsieur," said the marquis, pressing his hand. "My +friend is<br> + expecting me. He will soon come to you."</p> + +<p>"Then it was really she!" cried de Sucy at d'Albon's first +words. "Ah!<br> + I still doubted it," he added, a few tears falling from his +eyes,<br> + which were habitually stern.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is the Comtesse de Vandieres," replied the +marquis.</p> + +<p>The colonel rose abruptly from his bed and began to dress.</p> + +<p>"Philippe!" cried his friend, "are you mad?"</p> + +<p>"I am no longer ill," replied the colonel, simply. "This news +has<br> + quieted my suffering. What pain can I feel when I think of +Stephanie?<br> + I am going to the Bons-Hommes, to see her, speak to her, cure +her. She<br> + is free. Well, happiness will smile upon us--or Providence is +not in<br> + this world. Think you that that poor woman could hear my voice +and not<br> + recover reason?"</p> + +<p>"She has already seen you and not recognized you," said his +friend,<br> + gently, for he felt the danger of Philippe's excited hopes, and +tried<br> + to cast a salutary doubt upon them.</p> + +<p>The colonel quivered; then he smiled, and made a motion of<br> + incredulity. No one dared to oppose his wish, and within a very +short<br> + time he reached the old priory.</p> + +<p>"Where is she?" he cried, on arriving.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said her uncle, "she is sleeping. See, here she +is."</p> + +<p>Philippe then saw the poor insane creature lying on a bench in +the<br> + sun. Her head was protected from the heat by a forest of hair +which<br> + fell in tangled locks over her face. Her arms hung gracefully to +the<br> + ground; her body lay easily posed like that of a doe; her feet +were<br> + folded under her without effort; her bosom rose and fell at +regular<br> + intervals; her skin, her complexion, had that porcelain +whiteness,<br> + which we admire so much in the clear transparent faces of +children.<br> + Standing motionless beside her, Genevieve held in her hand a +branch<br> + which Stephanie had doubtless climbed a tall poplar to obtain, +and the<br> + poor idiot was gently waving it above her sleeping companion, to +chase<br> + away the flies and cool the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>The peasant-woman gazed at Monsieur Fanjat and the colonel; +then, like<br> + an animal which recognizes its master, she turned her head +slowly to<br> + the countess, and continued to watch her, without giving any +sign of<br> + surprise or intelligence. The air was stifling; the stone +bench<br> + glittered in the sunlight; the meadow exhaled to heaven those +impish<br> + vapors which dance and dart above the herbage like silvery dust; +but<br> + Genevieve seemed not to feel this all-consuming heat.</p> + +<p>The colonel pressed the hand of the doctor violently in his +own. Tears<br> + rolled from his eyes along his manly cheeks, and fell to the +earth at<br> + the feet of his Stephanie.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," said the uncle, "for two years past, my heart is +broken<br> + day by day. Soon you will be like me. You may not always weep, +but you<br> + will always feel your sorrow."</p> + +<p>The two men understood each other; and again, pressing each +other's<br> + hands, they remained motionless, contemplating the exquisite +calmness<br> + which sleep had cast upon that graceful creature. From time to +time<br> + she gave a sigh, and that sigh, which had all the semblance +of<br> + sensibilities, made the unhappy colonel tremble with hope.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" said Monsieur Fanjat, "do not deceive yourself, +monsieur;<br> + there is no meaning in her sigh."</p> + +<p>Those who have ever watched for hours with delight the sleep +of one<br> + who is tenderly beloved, whose eyes will smile to them at +waking, can<br> + understand the sweet yet terrible emotion that shook the +colonel's<br> + soul. To him, this sleep was an illusion; the waking might be +death,<br> + death in its most awful form. Suddenly, a little goat jumped in +three<br> + bounds to the bench, and smelt at Stephanie, who waked at the +sound.<br> + She sprang to her feet, but so lightly that the movement did +not<br> + frighten the freakish animal; then she caught sight of Philippe, +and<br> + darted away, followed by her four-footed friend, to a hedge of +elders;<br> + there she uttered the same little cry like a frightened bird, +which<br> + the two men had heard near the other gate. Then she climbed an +acacia,<br> + and nestling into its tufted top, she watched the stranger with +the<br> + inquisitive attention of the forest birds.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, adieu, adieu," she said, without the soul +communicating one<br> + single intelligent inflexion to the word.</p> + +<p>It was uttered impassively, as the bird sings his note.</p> + +<p>"She does not recognize me!" cried the colonel, in +despair.<br> + "Stephanie! it is Philippe, thy Philippe, PHILIPPE!"</p> + +<p>And the poor soldier went to the acacia; but when he was a few +steps<br> + from it, the countess looked at him, as if defying him, although +a<br> + slight expression of fear seemed to flicker in her eye; then, +with a<br> + single bound she sprang from the acacia to a laburnum, and +thence to a<br> + Norway fir, where she darted from branch to branch with +extraordinary<br> + agility.</p> + +<p>"Do not pursue her," said Monsieur Fanjat to the colonel, "or +you will<br> + arouse an aversion which might become insurmountable. I will +help you<br> + to tame her and make her come to you. Let us sit on this bench. +If you<br> + pay no attention to her, she will come of her own accord to +examine<br> + you."</p> + +<p>"SHE! not to know me! to flee me!" repeated the colonel, +seating<br> + himself on a bench with his back to a tree that shaded it, and +letting<br> + his head fall upon his breast.</p> + +<p>The doctor said nothing. Presently, the countess came gently +down the<br> + fir-tree, letting herself swing easily on the branches, as the +wind<br> + swayed them. At each branch she stopped to examine the stranger; +but<br> + seeing him motionless, she at last sprang to the ground and +came<br> + slowly towards him across the grass. When she reached a tree +about ten<br> + feet distant, against which she leaned, Monsieur Fanjat said to +the<br> + colonel in a low voice,--</p> + +<p>"Take out, adroitly, from my right hand pocket some lumps of +sugar you<br> + will feel there. Show them to her, and she will come to us. I +will<br> + renounce in your favor my sole means of giving her pleasure. +With<br> + sugar, which she passionately loves, you will accustom her to +approach<br> + you, and to know you again."</p> + +<p>"When she was a woman," said Philippe, sadly, "she had no +taste for<br> + sweet things."</p> + +<p>When the colonel showed her the lump of sugar, holding it +between the<br> + thumb and forefinger of his right hand, she again uttered her +little<br> + wild cry, and sprang toward him; then she stopped, struggling +against<br> + the instinctive fear he caused her; she looked at the sugar and +turned<br> + away her head alternately, precisely like a dog whose master +forbids<br> + him to touch his food until he has said a letter of the alphabet +which<br> + he slowly repeats. At last the animal desire triumphed over +fear.<br> + Stephanie darted to Philippe, cautiously putting out her little +brown<br> + hand to seize the prize, touched the fingers of her poor lover +as she<br> + snatched the sugar, and fled away among the trees. This dreadful +scene<br> + overcame the colonel; he burst into tears and rushed into the +house.</p> + +<p>"Has love less courage than friendship?" Monsieur Fanjat said +to him.<br> + "I have some hope, Monsieur le baron. My poor niece was in a far +worse<br> + state than that in which you now find her."</p> + +<p>"How was that possible?" cried Philippe.</p> + +<p>"She went naked," replied the doctor.</p> + +<p>The colonel made a gesture of horror and turned pale. The +doctor saw<br> + in that sudden pallor alarming symptoms; he felt the colonel's +pulse,<br> + found him in a violent fever, and half persuaded, half compelled +him<br> + to go to bed. Then he gave him a dose of opium to ensure a calm +sleep.</p> + +<p>Eight days elapsed, during which Colonel de Sucy struggled +against<br> + mortal agony; tears no longer came to his eyes. His soul, +often<br> + lacerated, could not harden itself to the sight of +Stephanie's<br> + insanity; but he covenanted, so to speak, with his cruel +situation,<br> + and found some assuaging of his sorrow. He had the courage to +slowly<br> + tame the countess by bringing her sweetmeats; he took such pains +in<br> + choosing them, and he learned so well how to keep the little +conquests<br> + he sought to make upon her instincts--that last shred of her +intellect<br> + --that he ended by making her much TAMER than she had ever +been.</p> + +<p>Every morning he went into the park, and if, after searching +for her<br> + long, he could not discover on what tree she was swaying, nor +the<br> + covert in which she crouched to play with a bird, nor the roof +on<br> + which she might have clambered, he would whistle the well-known +air of<br> + "Partant pour la Syrie," to which some tender memory of their +love<br> + attached. Instantly, Stephanie would run to him with the +lightness of<br> + a fawn. She was now so accustomed to see him, that he frightened +her<br> + no longer. Soon she was willing to sit upon his knee, and clasp +him<br> + closely with her thin and agile arm. In that attitude--so dear +to<br> + lovers!--Philippe would feed her with sugarplums. Then, having +eaten<br> + those that he gave her, she would often search his pockets +with<br> + gestures that had all the mechanical velocity of a monkey's +motions.<br> + When she was very sure there was nothing more, she looked at +Philippe<br> + with clear eyes, without ideas, with recognition. Then she would +play<br> + with him, trying at times to take off his boots to see his +feet,<br> + tearing his gloves, putting on his hat; she would even let him +pass<br> + his hands through her hair, and take her in his arms; she +accepted,<br> + but without pleasure, his ardent kisses. She would look at +him<br> + silently, without emotion, when his tears flowed; but she +always<br> + understood his "Partant pour la Syrie," when he whistled it, +though he<br> + never succeeded in teaching her to say her own name +Stephanie.</p> + +<p>Philippe was sustained in his agonizing enterprise by hope, +which<br> + never abandoned him. When, on fine autumn mornings, he found +the<br> + countess sitting peacefully on a bench, beneath a poplar now<br> + yellowing, the poor lover would sit at her feet, looking into +her eyes<br> + as long as she would let him, hoping ever that the light that +was in<br> + them would become intelligent. Sometimes the thought deluded him +that<br> + he saw those hard immovable rays softening, vibrating, living, +and he<br> + cried out,--</p> + +<p>"Stephanie! Stephanie! thou hearest me, thou seest me!"</p> + +<p>But she listened to that cry as to a noise, the soughing of +the wind<br> + in the tree-tops, or the lowing of the cow on the back of which +she<br> + climbed. Then the colonel would wring his hands in +despair,--despair<br> + that was new each day.</p> + +<p>One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of +that<br> + rural haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel +was<br> + loading his pistols. The old man felt then that the young man +had<br> + ceased to hope; he felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if +he<br> + conquered the vertigo that threatened him, it was because he +would<br> + rather see his niece living and mad than dead. He hastened +up.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" he said.</p> + +<p>"That is for me," replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol +already<br> + loaded, which was lying on the bench; "and this is for her," he +added,<br> + as he forced the wad into the weapon he held.</p> + +<p>The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with +the<br> + balls.</p> + +<p>"Then you do not know," said the doctor, coldly, concealing +his<br> + terror, "that in her sleep last night she called you: +Philippe!"</p> + +<p>"She called me!" cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which +Stephanie<br> + picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that +was on<br> + the bench, and rushed away.</p> + +<p>"Poor darling!" said the doctor, happy in the success of his +lie. He<br> + pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking +to<br> + himself: "He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he +suffers.<br> + He does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do +we<br> + not? He is mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. +No,<br> + God alone should call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we +pity thee<br> + because thou canst not share our sorrows, fools that we +are!--But," he<br> + said, sitting down and taking her on his knee, "nothing troubles +thee;<br> + thy life is like that of a bird, of a fawn--"</p> + +<p>As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was +hopping near<br> + them, caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled +it,<br> + looked at it, dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of +a<br> + tree without a thought.</p> + +<p>The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down +into the<br> + gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,--he believed in the +coming<br> + happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to +him,<br> + he took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first +time,<br> + and he led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of +which<br> + was dropping to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own +accord<br> + Stephanie placed herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with +joy.</p> + +<p>"Love," he said, kissing her hands passionately, "I am +Philippe."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, pressing her to him, "dost thou feel my +heart? It has<br> + beaten for thee alone. I love thee ever. Philippe is not dead; +he is<br> + not dead, thou art on him, in his arms. Thou art MY Stephanie; I +am<br> + thy Philippe."</p> + +<p>"Adieu," she said, "adieu."</p> + +<p>The colonel quivered, for he fancied he saw his own +excitement<br> + communicated to his mistress. His heart-rending cry, drawn from +him by<br> + despair, that last effort of an eternal love, of a delirious +passion,<br> + was successful, the mind of his darling was awaking.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Stephanie! Stephanie! we shall yet be happy."</p> + +<p>She gave a cry of satisfaction, and her eyes brightened with a +flash<br> + of vague intelligence.</p> + +<p>"She knows me!--Stephanie!"</p> + +<p>His heart swelled; his eyelids were wet with tears. Then, +suddenly,<br> + the countess showed him a bit of sugar she had found in his +pocket<br> + while he was speaking to her. He had mistaken for human thought +the<br> + amount of reason required for a monkey's trick. Philippe dropped +to<br> + the ground unconscious. Monsieur Fanjat found the countess +sitting on<br> + the colonel's body. She was biting her sugar, and testifying +her<br> + pleasure by pretty gestures and affectations with which, had she +her<br> + reason, she might have imitated her parrot or her cat.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my friend," said Philippe, when he came to his senses, "I +die<br> + every day, every moment! I love too well! I could still bear +all, if,<br> + in her madness, she had kept her woman's nature. But to see her +always<br> + a savage, devoid even of modesty, to see her--"</p> + +<p>"You want opera madness, do you? something picturesque and +pleasing,"<br> + said the doctor, bitterly. "Your love and your devotion yield +before a<br> + prejudice. Monsieur, I have deprived myself for your sake of the +sad<br> + happiness of watching over my niece; I have left to you the +pleasure<br> + of playing with her; I have kept for myself the heaviest cares. +While<br> + you have slept, I have watched, I have-- Go, monsieur, go! +abandon<br> + her! leave this sad refuge. I know how to live with that dear +darling<br> + creature; I comprehend her madness, I watch her gestures, I know +her<br> + secrets. Some day you will thank me for thus sending you +away."</p> + +<p>The colonel left the old monastery, never to return but once. +The<br> + doctor was horrified when he saw the effect he had produced upon +his<br> + guest, whom he now began to love when he saw him thus. Surely, +if<br> + either of the two lovers were worthy of pity, it was Philippe; +did he<br> + not bear alone the burden of their dreadful sorrow?</p> + +<p>After the colonel's departure the doctor kept himself informed +about<br> + him; he learned that the miserable man was living on an estate +near<br> + Saint-Germain. In truth, the baron, on the faith of a dream, +had<br> + formed a project which he believed would yet restore the mind of +his<br> + darling. Unknown to the doctor, he spent the rest of the autumn +in<br> + preparing for his enterprise. A little river flowed through his +park<br> + and inundated during the winter the marshes on either side of +it,<br> + giving it some resemblance to the Beresina. The village of +Satout, on<br> + the heights above, closed in, like Studzianka, the scene of +horror.<br> + The colonel collected workmen to deepen the banks, and by the +help of<br> + his memory, he copied in his park the shore where General +Eble<br> + destroyed the bridge. He planted piles, and made buttresses and +burned<br> + them, leaving their charred and blackened ruins, standing in the +water<br> + from shore to shore. Then he gathered fragments of all kinds, +like<br> + those of which the raft was built. He ordered dilapidated +uniforms and<br> + clothing of every grade, and hired hundreds of peasants to wear +them;<br> + he erected huts and cabins for the purpose of burning them. In +short,<br> + he forgot nothing that might recall that most awful of all +scenes, and<br> + he succeeded.</p> + +<p>Toward the last of December, when the snow had covered with +its thick,<br> + white mantle all his imitative preparations, he recognized +the<br> + Beresina. This false Russia was so terribly truthful, that +several of<br> + his army comrades recognized the scene of their past misery at +once.<br> + Monsieur de Sucy took care to keep secret the motive for this +tragic<br> + imitation, which was talked of in several Parisian circles as a +proof<br> + of insanity.</p> + +<p>Early in January, 1820, the colonel drove in a carriage, the +very<br> + counterpart of the one in which he had driven the Comte and +Comtesse<br> + de Vandieres from Moscow to Studzianka. The horses, too, were +like<br> + those he had gone, at the peril of his life, to fetch from the +Russian<br> + outposts. He himself wore the soiled fantastic clothing, the +same<br> + weapons, as on the 29th of November, 1812. He had let his beard +grow,<br> + also his hair, which was tangled and matted, and his face +was<br> + neglected, so that nothing might be wanting to represent the +awful<br> + truth.</p> + +<p>"I can guess your purpose," cried Monsieur Fanjat, when he saw +the<br> + colonel getting out of the carriage. "If you want to succeed, do +not<br> + let my niece see you in that equipage. To-night I will give her +opium.<br> + During her sleep, we will dress her as she was at Studzianka, +and<br> + place her in the carriage. I will follow you in another +vehicle."</p> + +<p>About two in the morning, the sleeping countess was placed in +the<br> + carriage and wrapped in heavy coverings. A few peasants with +torches<br> + lighted up this strange abduction. Suddenly, a piercing cry +broke the<br> + silence of the night. Philippe and the doctor turned, and +saw<br> + Genevieve coming half-naked from the ground-floor room in which +she<br> + slept.</p> + +<p>"Adieu, adieu! all is over, adieu!" she cried, weeping hot +tears.</p> + +<p>"Genevieve, what troubles you?" asked the doctor.</p> + +<p>Genevieve shook her head with a motion of despair, raised her +arm to<br> + heaven, looked at the carriage, uttering a long-drawn moan with +every<br> + sign of the utmost terror; then she returned to her room +silently.</p> + +<p>"That is a good omen!" cried the colonel. "She feels she is to +lose<br> + her companion. Perhaps she SEES that Stephanie will recover +her<br> + reason."</p> + +<p>"God grant it!" said Monsieur Fanjat, who himself was affected +by the<br> + incident.</p> + +<p>Ever since he had made a close study of insanity, the good man +had met<br> + with many examples of the prophetic faculty and the gift of +second<br> + sight, proofs of which are frequently given by alienated minds, +and<br> + which may also be found, so travellers say, among certain tribes +of<br> + savages.</p> + +<p>As the colonel had calculated, Stephanie crossed the +fictitious plain<br> + of the Beresina at nine o'clock in the morning, when she was +awakened<br> + by a cannon shot not a hundred yards from the spot where the<br> + experiment was to be tried. This was a signal. Hundreds of +peasants<br> + made a frightful clamor like that on the shore of the river +that<br> + memorable night, when twenty thousand stragglers were doomed to +death<br> + or slavery by their own folly.</p> + +<p>At the cry, at the shot, the countess sprang from the +carriage, and<br> + ran, with delirious emotion, over the snow to the banks of the +river;<br> + she saw the burned bivouacs and the charred remains of the +bridge, and<br> + the fatal raft, which the men were launching into the icy waters +of<br> + the Beresina. The major, Philippe, was there, striking back the +crowd<br> + with his sabre. Madame de Vandieres gave a cry, which went to +all<br> + hearts, and threw herself before the colonel, whose heart beat +wildly.<br> + She seemed to gather herself together, and, at first, looked +vaguely<br> + at the singular scene. For an instant, as rapid as the +lightning's<br> + flash, her eyes had that lucidity, devoid of mind, which we +admire in<br> + the eye of birds; then passing her hand across her brow with the +keen<br> + expression of one who meditates, she contemplated the living +memory of<br> + a past scene spread before her, and, turning quickly to +Philippe, she<br> + SAW HIM. An awful silence reigned in the crowd. The colonel +gasped,<br> + but dared not speak; the doctor wept. Stephanie's sweet face +colored<br> + faintly; then, from tint to tint, it returned to the brightness +of<br> + youth, till it glowed with a beautiful crimson. Life and +happiness,<br> + lighted by intelligence, came nearer and nearer like a +conflagration.<br> + Convulsive trembling rose from her feet to her heart. Then +these<br> + phenomena seemed to blend in one as Stephanie's eyes cast forth +a<br> + celestial ray, the flame of a living soul. She lived, she +thought! She<br> + shuddered, with fear perhaps, for God himself unloosed that +silent<br> + tongue, and cast anew His fires into that long-extinguished +soul.<br> + Human will came with its full electric torrent, and vivified the +body<br> + from which it had been driven.</p> + +<p>"Stephanie!" cried the colonel.</p> + +<p>"Oh! it is Philippe," said the poor countess.</p> + +<p>She threw herself into the trembling arms that the colonel +held out to<br> + her, and the clasp of the lovers frightened the spectators. +Stephanie<br> + burst into tears. Suddenly her tears stopped, she stiffened as +though<br> + the lightning had touched her, and said in a feeble voice,--</p> + +<p>"Adieu, Philippe; I love thee, adieu!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! she is dead," cried the colonel, opening his arms.</p> + +<p>The old doctor received the inanimate body of his niece, +kissed it as<br> + though he were a young man, and carrying it aside, sat down with +it<br> + still in his arms on a pile of wood. He looked at the countess +and<br> + placed his feeble trembling hand upon her heart. That heart no +longer<br> + beat.</p> + +<p>"It is true," he said, looking up at the colonel, who +stood<br> + motionless, and then at Stephanie, on whom death was placing +that<br> + resplendent beauty, that fugitive halo, which is, perhaps, a +pledge of<br> + the glorious future--"Yes, she is dead."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that smile," cried Philippe, "do you see that smile? Can +it be<br> + true?"</p> + +<p>"She is turning cold," replied Monsieur Fanjat.</p> + +<p>Monsieur de Sucy made a few steps to tear himself away from +the sight;<br> + but he stopped, whistled the air that Stephanie had known, and +when<br> + she did not come to him, went on with staggering steps like a +drunken<br> + man, still whistling, but never turning back.</p> + +<p>General Philippe de Sucy was thought in the social world to be +a very<br> + agreeable man, and above all a very gay one. A few days ago, a +lady<br> + complimented him on his good humor, and the charming equability +of his<br> + nature.</p> + +<p>"Ah! madame," he said, "I pay dear for my liveliness in my +lonely<br> + evenings."</p> + +<p>"Are you ever alone?" she said.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied smiling.</p> + +<p>If a judicious observer of human nature could have seen at +that moment<br> + the expression on the Comte de Sucy's face, he would perhaps +have<br> + shuddered.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you marry?" said the lady, who had several +daughters at<br> + school. "You are rich, titled, and of ancient lineage; you +have<br> + talents, and a great future before you; all things smile upon +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "but a smile kills me."</p> + +<p>The next day the lady heard with great astonishment that +Monsieur de<br> + Sucy had blown his brains out during the night. The upper ranks +of<br> + society talked in various ways over this extraordinary event, +and each<br> + person looked for the cause of it. According to the proclivities +of<br> + each reasoner, play, love, ambition, hidden disorders, and +vices,<br> + explained the catastrophe, the last scene of a drama begun in +1812.<br> + Two men alone, a marquis and former deputy, and an aged +physician,<br> + knew that Philippe de Sucy was one of those strong men to whom +God has<br> + given the unhappy power of issuing daily in triumph from awful +combats<br> + which they fight with an unseen monster. If, for a moment, +God<br> + withdraws from such men His all-powerful hand, they succumb.</p> + +<h3><br> + ADDENDUM</h3> + +<p>The following personage appears in other stories of the Human +Comedy.</p> + +<p>Note: Adieu is also entitled Farewell.</p> + +<p>Granville, Vicomte de<br> + The Gondreville Mystery<br> + A Second Home<br> + Farewell (Adieu)<br> + Cesar Birotteau<br> + Scenes from a Courtesan's Life<br> + A Daughter of Eve<br> + Cousin Pons</p> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Adieu, by Honore de Balzac + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADIEU *** + +This file should be named adieu10h.htm or adieu10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, adieu11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, adieu11ah.htm + +Produced by Walter Debeuf + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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