IN COMFORTABLE QUARTERS
It was an hour before the Count returned to the nursery. "Ah, my
friend," he said, "what happiness have you brought to us. Already my
wife is a new creature. I had begun to think that I should lose her too,
for the doctors told me frankly that they feared she would fall into a
decline. Now her joy is so great that it was with difficulty that I
could tear myself away from contemplating her happiness, but the doctor
came in and recommended that she should try and sleep for a time, or if
she could not sleep that she should at least lie absolutely quiet, so
Stephanie has nestled down by her side, and I was able to come to you."
He now led the way to a luxuriously furnished smoking-room.
"This is my snuggery," he said. "The library below is where I go into
matters with my stewards, receive persons who come on business, and so
on. This is where I read and receive my friends. Now, will you help
yourself to those cigars, and let us talk. At present I know nothing.
Stephanie was left down at our estate, near Kieff, under the charge of
her French nurse, who has been with her since she was born. She was
rather governess than nurse of late. She was a French _émigré_, and of
good French family, and we had implicit confidence in her. I wrote to
her when the invasion first began, saying that as at present we could
not tell whether St. Petersburg or Moscow would be Napoleon's object of
attack, but as all the centre of Russia would be involved in the war, I
wished that Stephanie should remain quietly with her. I said that,
should any French army approach Kieff, she was to take Stephanie at once
to my estate near Odessa.
"After the invasion began I sent off several letters to the same
effect, two by my own couriers, but owing to our army falling back so
rapidly, I imagine that none of the letters ever reached the nurse. Of
course, the whole postal communication of the country has been thrown
into confusion. At last, two months ago, a messenger from Kieff brought
me a letter from her making no allusion to those I had sent her, but
saying that as she heard that the French army was at Moscow she felt
sure I should wish her to bring Stephanie to us, and that, after a
consultation with my steward, she would in three days start direct after
sending off her letter. We were, of course, thunderstruck. She
apparently had the idea that the whole of the French were at Moscow, and
that it would, therefore, be perfectly safe to cross the roads between
them and the frontier. The poor woman said that should they by any
chance come across any body of her countrymen, she was sure that they
would not interfere with a woman and child. Her anxiety seemed to relate
solely to the weather and food, but she assured me that she would bring
an abundance of wraps of all sorts, and a supply of provisions in the
_fourgon_ sufficient for the journey.
"Half an hour after I received the letter I sent off two couriers. They
were, of course, to go round east of Moscow and then to Kieff. They were
to drive at the top of their speed the whole way, and I obtained a
special order for them to be instantly furnished with post-horses
everywhere. In the meantime there was nothing to do but to wait. My
orders were that immediately they arrived they were to send off a fresh
messenger by the way they had come, saying whether Stephanie had
started, and they were bearers of letters of instruction to the steward
that six mounted men were instantly to follow the road the carriage had
taken, making inquiries at every post-house, and to endeavour to trace
them, and if the clue was anywhere lost to bring word to me. I waited
ten days, then I got news that Stephanie had left five weeks before my
messengers arrived there. The nurse's letter had been a very long time
in coming to me, and they had started, as she said, three days after it
was written, therefore if they had got safely through the country
occupied by the French they should have arrived here at least three
weeks before.
"According to the dates there was little doubt that they must have
crossed the main road from Moscow to the frontier at the very time when
the French army on its retreat would be moving along. All that we had
heard and knew of the terrible distress, both of their army and of our
own, showed that at that time the intense suffering of the French and
the savage reprisals of our peasantry had reduced them to a state when
nothing was respected, and that a pair of valuable horses and a heap of
costly furs, to say nothing of the food carried, would be prizes almost
beyond value. Deprived of these, a nurse and child would, in a few
hours, die of the cold. That some such fate must have befallen them
seemed almost certain, for otherwise they must have joined us.
"I could tell pretty well the road that they would follow, and started
along it. Half way between here and Smolensk I met the six men. What
they said confirmed my worst fears. They had learnt where the carriage
had last halted for the night. The party had not travelled post, but had
kept their own horses and had travelled only by day. Had they lingered
only one day anywhere on the way they would have crossed the Moscow road
on the day after the rear-guard of the French had passed.
"But news travelled slowly, and no doubt, at the post-house where they
slept, no word that the French army was passing along had been received.
Beyond that, the men had been able to gather no news whatever of the
carriage. The country was a desert, tenanted only by dead; and the men's
descriptions of what they saw were so horrible that my blood was
frozen. However, I kept on my journey, taking them with me. We went to
the post-house where the carriage had last stopped, and then took up the
search. There were half a dozen roads by which they might have
proceeded; however, we took the most easterly one, and then, when it
crossed the main road, followed the latter. It was choked with deserted
waggons and guns. Dead bodies lay everywhere; many partly devoured by
wolves; all stripped of their clothing. After making our way through
this terrible scene for a few miles, we saw, fifty yards from the road,
the remains of a sleigh. Its bright yellow colour caught our eyes, and
when we got to it there was no room for doubt. The body of the sleigh
was gone--had been burnt for firewood; but the colour was that of my own
carriage, and two of the men who belonged to the stables at Kieff said
that they could swear to it, owing to a new iron that had been put on to
one of the runners the day before it had started. But there were other
signs. Portions of the harness lay about, and on one of these enough of
the silver-work remained to show that it was ours.
"Then we searched farther. Turning over a mound of newly-fallen snow, we
found the bodies of the coachman and the nurse. We searched for hours,
but could not find that of the child; but as to her fate we had no
doubt. She might have run away into the forest, or she might have been
devoured by wolves. That she was dead was certain. I left four of the
men there. They were to establish themselves in the nearest village, and
to continue the search day by day, and to remain there, if necessary,
till the spring came and the snow disappeared. I returned here ten days
ago with the news that all hope was at an end, and that Stephanie was
lost to us for ever. Now, sir, will you tell me how it was that you
saved her? You were doubtless with the French army, though how you came
to be there is almost as great a puzzle as how Stephanie was saved."
"I will tell you that afterwards, Count," Julian replied.
Then he related how, on marching past the overturned carriage, he heard
what would doubtless have been Stephanie's last cry, and had found her
lying half-frozen among the cushions. He stated the means he had taken
to restore warmth to her, and how he had strapped her to his back under
his warmly-lined cloak.
Then he gave, as well as he could remember, the details of each day's
experience: how Stephanie had become a general pet of the soldiers; how
they had manufactured a warm cloak and hood for her; how she had ridden
on shoulders, and had joined in the marching songs of the regiment, and
had really kept well and in good spirits on the march; how, as he got
too weak to carry her, she had trotted by his side; and how his
comrades, in spite of their exhaustion, had been willing to relieve him
of her weight. Then he told how, at last, they had separated from the
regiment when but a few hours' march from the Berezina; and how
Stephanie in turn had saved his life from the peasants.
"So you see, Count," he concluded, "the kindness that I had shown your
child has already been repaid to me many fold. Not only did she save my
life from the peasants, but I have no doubt that her pretty talk, and
the occupation she offered to my thoughts, and her warmth as she nestled
close to me at night, were the means of my retaining my strength to a
far greater degree than was the case with most of my comrades, and
enabled me to survive when so many dropped dead from cold and
exhaustion."
"That may be so, my friend," the count said. "God has doubtless rewarded
you for your good action, but that in nowise lessens our obligations
towards you. Now, will you tell me somewhat of your own history?"
"It is a long story, Count."
"All the better, my friend. I trust that my wife is asleep by this
time, and the child with her, and nothing can be of greater interest to
me than to hear it."
Julian therefore related his story in full, and produced the paper given
him on his enlistment, guaranteeing that he should not be called upon to
fight against his countrymen.
"Since we entered Russia, Count," he said, "and I have seen the savage
manner in which the peasantry were treated, not so much by the French
troops as by the allies, I bitterly regretted that I had enlisted; but,
at the time, no notion of this had ever entered my mind. I have told you
that the life at Verdun was intolerable. We died in hundreds, for a sort
of dull despair seemed to settle on everyone; and, although for a long
time I had borne up against it, I had come to the point when death would
have been welcome. A return to my own country seemed closed to me, owing
to the circumstances I have related to you; and I entered the French
service, just as, in the wars a couple of hundred years ago, Englishmen
and Scotchmen were to be found fighting as soldiers of fortune in the
armies of well-nigh every power of Europe."
"I cannot blame you, Mr. Wyatt. Yours is a singular and most unfortunate
story, and it seems to me that, had I been in your place, I should have
acted precisely the same, and should have been glad to take service
under any flag rather than have remained to rot in a prison. Certainly
you had a thousand times better excuse than had the Austrians and
Prussians, who, after having been our allies, entered upon this savage
war of invasion without a shadow of excuse, save that it was the will of
Napoleon. However, I think that it will be as well, in order to save any
necessity for explanation, that I should introduce you to my friends as
an English gentleman who has come to me with the warmest
recommendations, and whom I am most anxious to serve in any way. This is
not a time when men concern themselves in any way with the private
affairs of others. There is not a family in Russia, high or low, who
has not lost one or more members in this terrible struggle. Publicly,
and as a nation, we rejoice at our deliverance, and at the destruction
of our enemies. Privately, we mourn our losses.
"They have been terrible. As yet we scarcely know how great; but I
imagine that they will be found to have been no less than that of the
enemy. We hear that, in the pursuit, and without having taken any part
in the actual fighting after Krasnoi, Kutusow's army alone has lost
nearly 100,000 men from cold and fatigue; while, of the central army of
Napoleon, but four hundred infantry and six hundred cavalry repassed the
Niemen with their arms and standards. The other Russian divisions
suffered as severely as those with Kutusow. The Emperor has himself gone
to Wilna to endeavour to alleviate the sufferings of the sick and
wounded, with which the city is crammed. Wide as will be the mourning in
France, it will be no less so in Russia. Now, the first thing to do is
to provide you with suitable garments. This I will put in hand
immediately; but, until they can be procured, you must content yourself
with some of mine, though, as you are some four inches taller than I am
and far wider, they will suit you but poorly. However, I have an ample
store of dressing-gowns and wraps, and you must remain indoors a
prisoner until you are properly fitted out. By the way, I had an
interview with the two honest men who came with you before I returned to
you, and have arranged their business fully to their satisfaction. The
Papa will be able to build himself a new church, and the villagers to
repair all the losses they have suffered in the campaign.
"They were," he said, with a smile, "anxious to see you, as they said
that they had an account to settle with you, as you had furnished
one-third of the money required for the trip. However, I told them that
they could set their minds at rest on that score, for that I would
settle with you privately. I only mention it that you should not think
they had gone off without any remembrance of your share in the
business."
An hour later, a tailor with his assistant came to measure Julian. Three
days later, the Count suggested that he should go for a drive with him
in his sledge, and, wrapped up in furs, Julian took his place beside him
in a splendidly-appointed open vehicle. Stephanie sat between them. The
sledge was drawn by three horses--the centre one in shafts, while those
on either side ran free. A purple net covered the three animals almost
touching the ground, and so preventing the particles of snow being
thrown up by their hoofs into the sledge. The driver, in fur cap and
pelisse, and with an immense beard, sat on a seat in front. A number of
bells were attached to the harness of the horses, and to a bow-shaped
piece of wood that arched over the head of the central horse.
"This is an improvement on the post-waggons, Stephanie," Julian said.
The child nodded brightly. "You said it would all seem like a dream,
Julian," she remarked presently, as they dashed swiftly down the broad
street of the Nevsky, crowded with vehicles of all kinds, from the
splendidly-appointed sledges, like their own, to the lumbering vehicles
of the peasants piled up with firewood. "It almost seems like a dream
already, and yet you know I was very comfortable with you."
"It will be something for you to look back upon all your life," her
father said. "There will be many who will have strange and sad memories
of the war, but not one who will have a stranger experience than you
have to talk about. Happily, there was, as far as you are concerned, but
little sadness in it."
Julian was delighted with the brightness and gaiety of St. Petersburg,
with its broad streets, its stately palaces, its fine cathedrals, and
its busy population. The universal use of furs prevented the symbols of
mourning being apparent, and, as they drove along in the luxurious
equipage, even he, like the child, could scarce believe that the
desperate fight at Smolensk, the even longer and more obstinate contest
at Borodino, and the terrible scenes on the retreat, were realities. On
his return to the palace, Julian understood the object of the Count in
having taken him for a drive, for he found the _armoires_ and wardrobes
of his room crammed with garments of all descriptions.
Here was underclothing of every kind, sufficient for a life-time;
morning suits, riding suits, dress suits, visiting suits, in bewildering
variety. In one wardrobe were three superb overcoats, lined with the
most costly furs, half a dozen fur caps of various patterns, four huge
fur rugs, high boots lined with fur, a dozen pairs of fur gloves for
walking and driving; and arranged along the wall were ten pairs of boots
of different kinds, fur-lined slippers, and dress boots. He examined
them all with something like consternation.
"What nonsense!" he exclaimed. "What am I to do with all these things?
It is magnificent; but it is too much altogether. Why, these furs alone
are worth hundreds of pounds! No doubt the count is extremely rich. I
have already heard him speak of three or four estates in different parts
of Russia, and this palace is fit for a prince. Of course, he can afford
it well enough, but to me all this is quite overpowering. I should like
to see Aunt's face if I were to turn up at Weymouth with all this kit."
There was a letter lying on the table. He opened it. It was, as he had
expected, from the count.
"My dear Mr. Wyatt, you will, I am sure, accept the little outfit that I
have provided, in the same spirit in which I have obtained it, and will
oblige me by making no allusion to it whatever, or to the contents of
the enclosed pocket-book, which will provide you with ready-money while
you are staying here. They are but poor tokens of the life-long
obligations you have conferred upon the countess and myself."
The pocket-book contained a roll of Russian notes to the value of a
thousand pounds. Julian felt that there was indeed nothing to do but, as
the letter said, to accept the presents in the spirit in which they were
made. Everything showed that thoughtful kindness had been exercised. On
the dressing-table stood a superb travelling-case of Russian leather,
fitted with all necessaries of the toilet in ivory, mounted with silver,
and with his initials engraved upon the back of the various brushes.
Hitherto he had made no attempt to remove the soft brown beard that had
grown untouched from the day when the army had turned its back upon
Moscow. He now set to and shaved himself, and then dressed for dinner.
In glancing at one of the long cheval glasses in the room, he could not
but feel a distinct satisfaction at his appearance. Except in shop
windows in Germany, he had not, since he left home, had the opportunity
of seeing more of himself than could be gathered from the tiny glass
that formed part of his kit.
He now saw himself as he was, a tall figure of six feet two in height,
with a broad pair of shoulders. The scenes of the last six months had
given an expression of power and decision to his face that it had lacked
before. The stern, set look of battle had left its mark upon it, and
though a distinctly pleasant and kindly one, it was undoubtedly that of
a soldier who had seen hard service and had looked death many times in
the face. All question as to what he should say to the count was set at
rest on his entry into the drawing-room, for the count took him by the
hand, and, leading him across the room, presented him to the countess,
who had for the first time made her appearance. She rose as they came
across, and with trembling hands and eyes full of tears, came up to him.
"Ah, Mr. Wyatt," she said, "what can I say to the saviour of my child?
I have had difficulty in restraining my patience so long; but it was
only to-day that the doctor gave me permission to leave my room."
She held out both her hands to him. He bowed deeply over them and raised
them to his lips. "My happiness is no less than your own, countess," he
said, "that God has permitted me to be the means of bringing your child
back again. It was no great thing to do on my part; and, as I have told
the count, the little act of kindness was vastly more than repaid, for
your daughter assuredly saved my life from the peasants, as I saved hers
from the cold. Your little daughter is quite a heroine," he said more
lightly. "I can assure you that even when the bullets were flying about
thickly she evinced no signs of fear, and the way in which she stood
before me facing those enraged peasants was splendid."
"It shows her perfect faith in you, Mr. Wyatt. A child who has absolute
confidence in the person in whose charge she is, is almost without fear.
Her idea of danger is derived almost entirely from the conduct of those
around her. If they show fear, she is terrified; while if their manner
convinces her that they have no fear, she does not understand that
danger can exist. She is evidently deeply attached to you, as indeed she
has reason to be, and when I get tired with talking to her, and say to
her, 'Now you must go, dear,' she trots off as contentedly to you as if
you were indeed what she calls you, her nurse, much more so than she
used to do to Claire. The poor woman was a most careful nurse and an
excellent instructress, although she did start so madly, as it would
seem, on this journey. But the child never really took to her, as she
had not the faculty of winning affection. She was thoroughly
trustworthy, and would, I believe, have given her life for the child,
but she was certainly rather precise in manner, and was perhaps a little
too peremptory in giving her orders. That was, I admit, a fault on the
right side, for Stephanie is so accustomed to adulation on the part of
the servants, that she rather needs a firm hand over her. However, the
child has scarcely mentioned Claire's name since her return, while yours
is incessantly on her lips."
"She has not been in any way spoilt by adulation, Countess, and has been
as amenable to my slightest wish as the humblest peasant child could be;
but she certainly has a pretty little air of dignity. It was funny to
see how she queened it among the French soldiers, who always called her
Mademoiselle la Comtesse, and always put aside the best piece of their
scanty ration of meat for her."
"Yes, she has been telling me how good they were to her. What a war this
has been, Mr. Wyatt."
So they chatted until dinner was announced; then the countess lay down
on the sofa, and Stephanie came in and sat on a low stool beside her,
while her father and Julian went to the dining-room. After the meal was
over the count proposed that Julian should accompany him on a visit to
the Nobles' Club. The sledge was already waiting at the door, and in a
few minutes they arrived, not, as Julian had expected, at a stately
building, but at a garden.
"This is our skating place," the count said as they entered. "We have
guest-nights here once a week during the winter. As a rule, those
present are simply the invited guests of members; but to-night the
tickets are sold at twenty roubles each, and the proceeds go to the
funds for the benefit of the wounded. It will furnish a handsome sum,
for everyone is here, and there are few indeed who have paid as little
as the twenty roubles. Some sent cheques for as much as five hundred
roubles for their tickets, and a hundred may be taken as the average.
This is the first time that we have had a military band, for music is
naturally considered out of place when everyone is in mourning and such
vast numbers of our soldiers are still suffering horribly; but as this
is for their benefit it is considered as an exception. You will not see
much skating; the ice will be far too crowded."
It was indeed a brilliant scene. The gardens were lighted with myriads
of lamps. The sheet of ice was of a very irregular shape and broken by
several islets, upon which grew trees. From their branches hung numbers
of lanterns, while the bank round the ice was studded with lamps. The
crowds walking about by the edge of the lake were all wrapped up in
furs. A large proportion of those on skates wore uniforms, while the
ladies were in short, tightly-fitting jackets, trimmed with fur, and
with coquettish little fur caps. The crowd was far too great for any
attempt at figure-skating, but they moved swiftly round and round the
lake in a sort of procession, each lady accompanied by a cavalier, who
held her hand, and all skating with a grace and freedom that was to
Julian surprising indeed. The scene, with its bright colours and rapid
movement, was almost bewildering, and Julian was glad to turn away and
go up to the pavilion, where hot coffee and liquors were handed to all
comers.
The count spoke to many acquaintances, introducing Julian to each of
them as his great friend, Monsieur Wyatt, an Englishman. After waiting
an hour in the gardens they drove to the club itself. There were here a
large number of gentlemen, all of whom had been for a few minutes at the
garden. Here more introductions took place, and the count put down
Julian's name as an honorary member. "You will have a long day's work
to-morrow, Monsieur Wyatt."
"How is that, Count?"
"It will be your duty to call upon every gentleman to whom I have
introduced you; that is to say, to leave a card at the door, and every
one of them will leave a card at my house for you. I will make out a
list for you in the morning of the names and addresses. You will find a
sledge at the door at three o'clock; it will be at your disposal while
you remain with me. It is a small and light one, like this, with a pair
of horses. It is seldom that three horses are used unless ladies are of
the party. There is much for you to see, and it will be more pleasant
for you to be your own master and go about as you please."
The following morning, after breakfast, the count said, as they lit
their cigars, "Have you formed any plans yet, Mr. Wyatt? Of course I do
not mean for the present. It is understood that this is your home as
long as you will be good enough to make it so, and the longer you stay
the greater pleasure it will give us; but I mean for the future. Are you
thinking of returning to England?"
"I am intending to write at once to my brother. Whether he is at home or
not, of course I cannot say. He was going into the army, but I greatly
fear that the unfortunate affair in which I was engaged will have
rendered that impossible. At any rate, I shall also write to my aunt; if
alive she is sure to be there. In the first place, I shall tell them
what has become of me. There has been no possibility of my sending a
letter from the time I left home, with the exception of one written
while crossing the Channel, and which the smugglers promised to deliver
on their return. They must think that I am dead by this time, and my
letter will, at any rate, relieve their anxiety. In the next place, I am
most anxious to know if anything has been heard further from the
smuggler. He gave me his solemn promise that in the event of his death a
letter acknowledging that he was the murderer should be sent to the
magistrates of Weymouth. I have no reason in the world for supposing
that he is dead, for he was not above middle age, and if, as is but too
probable, no such letter had been received, I cannot return home. I
might, however, return to London, and thence take ship to some foreign
country--either to the United States or to South America, or perhaps to
our own colony of Canada, and make my way there or enlist in the
English army."
"Or you might stay here?"
"I might stay here, count, but as I am ignorant of Russian, and have no
trade or profession, I do not well see what I could possibly do."
"You would not be long in picking up Russian," the count said, "and if
you could make up your mind to settle down here until you learn that
your innocence of this foul charge has been completely proved, there
would be no necessity for any trade or profession. Why, Monsieur, you do
not suppose that the countess and I are without heart, or would allow
you, the preserver of our child, to struggle for an existence here or
anywhere else! We have more money than we know what to do with. We have
six estates in different parts of Russia. We have some ten thousand
serfs. However, we can settle nothing until you receive an answer to
your letter; after that we will talk matters over seriously. At any
rate, do not trouble about your future. This is the reason that I have
spoken to you to-day. Your future is our care, and you can leave it
safely in our hands."
"You are too good altogether, Count," Julian said; but the Russian
checked him with a peremptory gesture of his hand.
"Let us have no talk like that, Mr. Wyatt. You will only pain me deeply,
and make me think less well of you than I do now. Stephanie is to us
infinitely more than all our possessions, and did we assign to you all
else that we have in the world we should feel that the balance of
obligation was still against us. Now let us talk of other matters. In
the first place, about sending your letter. Of course, at present the
Baltic is frozen, and the ports beyond are all in the hands of the
French. Sweden, however, is in alliance with us, and our despatches for
England go up through Finland, then across the ice to Sweden, and by
land to Gothenburg, and thence by sea to England. It is a round-about
journey, but it is performed rapidly; and as there are English packets
always ready to sail from Gothenburg, your letters should, under
favourable circumstances, be in England in a fortnight.
"I should incline to advise you to write them in duplicate, for the
packet might be captured by a French privateer on its way, and it would
be safer therefore to despatch copies of your letters ten days after
those you first send off. In five weeks, if all goes well, you may
expect an answer. In the meantime, I hope you will find enough to amuse
you here, although the opera is closed, and there will be nothing like
gaieties this season; still, there will be dinner parties and the club;
and when you feel that you want a change I have an estate some five
hours' sledge drive from here. It consists largely of forest, but there
is plenty of game, elk and bears. If you are fond of shooting I can
promise you good sport."
"Thanks, indeed, Count. I am quite sure that I shall not be tired of St.
Petersburg in five or six weeks' time, and as for shooting, I do not
feel at present as if I should ever care to fire a gun again, certainly
not to take life, unless to satisfy hunger. I have seen so many horses
and dogs die, and have felt so much pity for them that I do not think
that I shall ever bring myself to take the life of a dumb beast again. I
am afraid I became somewhat callous to human life. I have seen thousands
of men die, and came somehow to regard it as their fate; and certainly,
during the retreat it came in most cases as a happy release from
suffering. But I could never, to the end, see a horse that had fallen
never to rise again, or a starving dog lying by its master's body,
without having intense pity for the poor creatures, who had, through no
fault or will of their own, come to this grievous end. No doubt you, as
a sportsman, Count, may consider this as overstrained feeling. I am
quite willing to admit that it may be so. I can only say that at present
I would not fire at an elk or a bear on any condition whatever."
"I can understand your feelings. I myself have had the cry of a horse
pulled down by wolves, in my ears for days, and I can well imagine how
the sight of so much suffering day after day among thousands of animals
would in time affect one."
The next three weeks passed most pleasantly for Julian. Every day there
were calls to make, excursions to various points to be undertaken, and
dinner parties nearly every evening, either at the count's, at the
houses of his friends, or at the club. He found French almost
universally spoken among the upper class, and was everywhere cordially
welcomed as a friend of the count's. The latter was sometimes questioned
by his intimate acquaintances as to his English friend, and to them he
replied, "Monsieur Wyatt is the son of a colonel in the English army. He
has rendered me a very great service, the nature of which I am not at
liberty to disclose. Suffice that the obligation is a great one, and
that I regard him as one of my dearest friends. Some day, possibly, my
lips may be unsealed, but you must at present be content to take him on
my sponsorship."
The countess had gained strength rapidly, and there were no grounds for
any further uneasiness as to her health; she was now able to take daily
drives with Stephanie.
"The child has become quite a military enthusiast," she said to Julian
one day. "Nothing pleases her so much as to look on at the troops
drilling."
St. Petersburg was indeed crowded with soldiers. New armies were rising
in all parts of Russia, and great preparations were being made to
recommence the campaign in the spring, this time upon foreign ground. No
sacrifices were too great to demand from the people. Nobles and
merchants vied with each other in the amount of their contributions,
and as it was certain that Austria, and probably Prussia would join the
alliance, hopes were entertained that the power that had dominated
Europe for so many years would be finally crushed. Already serious
disasters had fallen upon France in Spain. It was probable that ere long
the whole of the Peninsula would be wrested from her, and that she would
be threatened with an invasion in the south, as well as in the east. In
spite, therefore, of the terrible losses and calamities she had
suffered, Russia looked forward with ardent hope and expectations to the
future.