Neither argument nor entreaty availed to shake the determination of
Louise. Her father was entirely on her side, enthusiastically backing
and applauding her resolve. Marie and her fiancé, though at first
shocked that Louise should thus sacrifice herself for their sake, soon
realised that the sacrifice only played a part in the comedy.
"Do you not see a second reason?" Marie asked Karl one day. "It has
occurred to me that she has another motive besides that of serving us.
Louise, too, is in love. I suspected it, now I know it. I accidentally
saw her parting with the Baron d'Estreville; they kissed, _mon ami_;
imagine Louise kissed by a man; that reveals an extraordinary state of
affairs. Well, the Baron has already gone to the war. Louise, poor soul,
cannot bear to be parted; _eh bien_! she will go also; perhaps, she
tells herself, she will see him from time to time, at any rate she will
be near him."
"_Sapristi_, it may be as you say," said Karl; "If so I am glad of it.
Then we can allow her to go with minds more at rest."
However this may have been, Louise attended the conscript drill for
a month with the rest, and assuredly Michel Prevost there acquitted
himself as well as any recruit upon the ground. Accustomed to male
attire, which she had worn for some seventeen out of the full tally
of the years of her life, she betrayed no awkwardness, whether in
plain clothes or in uniform. Accustomed no less to every athletic
exercise which went towards the training of the young men of her day,
she satisfied the drill sergeant as easily as the most active of her
companions, not one of whom ever showed the slightest suspicion as to
her sex.
At the end of the month the somewhat raw company of young soldiers,
of whom Louise was one, marched through Paris and away; a month later
on and they had joined the ranks of Napoleon's ill-fated army. This
army consisted of 356,000 Frenchmen, and a heterogeneous collection of
322,000 foreign troops, consisting of Belgians, Dutch, Hanoverians,
Italians, Spaniards, Austrians, Prussians, Bavarians, Hessians, men of
Frankfort, of Wurtemberg and of Mecklenburg, Poles and others. It was
called by the Russians "The Army of Twenty Nations".
Napoleon himself was at Kovno, with about 200,000 troops commanded by
Marshals Davoust, Oudinot, Ney, Bessières and Murat. But the detachment
of which the conscript Michel Prevost was a member did not join the
mighty host until the river Niemen had been crossed, and the dogs of war
set at the heels of Alexander and his men.
To oppose his great rival the Tsar had, at this moment, but 150,000
troops, under Generals Bagration and Barclay de Tolly, though 200,000
men were elsewhere disposed, to be called up when required. Besides
these troops, the Tsar could count upon some 80,000 Cossacks already
enrolled and equipped. Beyond and above all these, too, he could rely
upon the nation to provide, in the moment of need, an almost unlimited
supply of raw material, ready to fight and die with the best in defence
of their beloved country.
Meanwhile Vera had returned, with the rest of the Embassy, to St.
Petersburg, and here, within a very few days, she received a visit from
Countess Maximof, Sasha's mother, a middle-aged dame of typical Russian
appearance and manners: kindly, gushing, voluble in a mixture of Russian
and French, used indiscriminately as the words happened to occur to her.
"But, my dear, you are charming, exquisite!" she exclaimed, standing
before the girl in an attitude of rapt admiration. "We had heard that
you had grown up very beautiful, but this! who would have believed it?
And my Sasha absent and unable to see you!"
"Is Alexander Petrovitch away then?" asked Vera, embarrassed by the good
lady's compliments and wishing the visit over almost before it was begun.
"Alas--he is gone to this cruel war, _chérie_, where else? All that
is best and most precious of our manhood has gone, and Sasha with the
rest. Oh, this Napoleon of yours--though indeed he is no more yours than
ours--there is no good thing to be said of him; he is Beelzebub, the
prince of the devils!"
"I do not defend him," said Vera. "Why should I? I am as good a Russian
as the best."
"See how ill-natured people are! It is said that you so love the French
people that you no longer have a thought for your own folks; some even
said that you would remain in Paris throughout the war!"
"It is false and very stupid also. Of course I love the French people.
We have no quarrel with them, Madame, but with one man only; him whom we
must all hold accursed for bringing this wicked war upon us!"
"It is true, it is true, _dooshá moyá_! It is the ogre of Europe who
would eat up our children, not the people of France. Kiss me, _chérie_,
you are beautiful like a morning in summer! Alas! how proud Sasha would
have been of you, of his sweet fiancée, could he but have seen you!"
"Oh, Madame, Alexander Petrovitch is better employed!" said Vera weakly.
"You will scarcely believe how he looked forward to seeing you,
_chérie_; assuredly he has not forgotten his precious claims to your
heart's preference!"
Vera laughed quite unaffectedly.
"Oh, Madame, be sure that, no more than I, would he desire to remember
those claims, if we had met! You speak of ancient history which is
recalled only with a smile!"
"_Dooshá tui moyá_," exclaimed the Countess, throwing up her hands, "do
you realise what you say? The dear Tsar himself would be disappointed
to hear your words."
Vera laughed outright.
"The Tsar! What in the world has the Tsar to do with the matter, Madame?"
"_Chérie_, you do not understand. I am a _Dame de la Cour_; I am
privileged to enjoy many opportunities of conversing with his Majesty.
His Majesty is well acquainted with all the circumstances of this
romantic betrothal of Sasha and yourself. My dear son is personally
known to the Tsar, who has deigned to express himself as much interested
in his career. His Majesty was, I may say, charmed to hear of the
betrothal; for listen, _ma mie_; it has reached even those august ears
that Mademoiselle Vera Demidof is well known to be one of the beauties
of Paris. Ah, Mademoiselle, I can see by your blushes that you are
surprised and charmed by this news! Shall I tell you more? The dear
Tsar, it is but a month ago, was pleased to pat my Sasha upon the
shoulder--'Hold your own, good boy!' said he, and the Tsar laughed most
graciously; 'I hear we have a Russian outwork in Paris; see that the
Frenchmen are kept out of it!'"
"Madame, I am stupid at guessing conundrums," said Vera, blushing.
"_Dooshá moyá_, the riddle is a very easy one. The Tsar is well pleased
that so sweet a flower as our Russian Rose of Paris should be plucked
by none but a Russian. 'Let no French lover come between you!' said his
Majesty, in effect. Truly, as I have said, he would be disappointed
indeed if you and Sasha should not come together as Destiny intended
that you should."
"Oh, Madame, who can tell what are the intentions of Destiny? If the
Tsar be pleased to jest in a matter which does not concern him, let him
jest. It is quite likely that Alexander Petrovitch, when he sees me,
will think the Tsar's jest but a poor one."
"A thousand times no, _chérie_! He will love you at sight. Already he
is prepared to lose his heart; it is a heart worth winning! There are
many who would give the world in exchange for it! Yet I whisper to you,
_dooshinka_, this secret--he waits but to learn that you have escaped
scatheless from Paris!"
"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed Vera, laughing. "Did he think the Frenchmen
would begin the war by murdering poor little me?"
"Fie, fie, little hypocrite!" said the Countess, tapping Vera
affectionately with her fan. "Well, well, Sasha shall tell you all these
things for himself! I am only a poor old woman, but Sasha will return
from the war, one day, and such matters will sound differently from his
lips. We shall see what Destiny has to say then!"
"Yes, let us leave it so, Madame," said Vera; "for after all, we have
not yet seen one another!"