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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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