Vera now had leisure to examine her protectors more closely; one was
a dapper little corporal who made eyes at her as she looked at him.
She quickly withdrew her gaze and fixed it upon the other, a handsome,
dark-eyed and eyelashed sergeant of a line regiment. This man had been
the spokesman. Vera started slightly as she looked at him.
"_Mon Dieu!_" she exclaimed, "what an extraordinary likeness! I beg a
thousand pardons, Monsieur; it is very rude of me; my first expression
should have been one of grateful thanks. You have preserved me,
Monsieur, from persecution, I am indeed grateful."
The young sergeant bowed.
"Mademoiselle does us too much honour," he replied. "Rochefort, _mon
cher_, if you will excuse me, I will see this lady to her home, it is
not right that you should walk alone in the city, Mademoiselle, at
present." The little corporal made a grimace.
"Rascal!" he whispered, "you always come in for the good things!"
He took his departure, however, after bestowing upon Vera his most
fascinating smile together with a low bow and a ferocious wink of the
left eye.
Vera gazed at her companion, examining him from head to foot as he
watched his comrade depart. The sergeant turned when he had seen the
other safely to the end of the street.
"I see," said Vera, "that it is to an old acquaintance that I am
indebted for this great service. I thank you heartily. But is the French
Emperor so badly off for men to march against our poor Russia that he
must needs enrol women as soldiers, Mademoiselle Louise?"
The sergeant blushed scarlet. "For God's sake be careful of your words,
Mademoiselle," he said. "Of course it is unknown that I am I. You are
the first who has guessed it. I entreat you to keep my secret."
"That of course. In Heaven's name, why have you done it? May I know
this?"
"It is easily told, Mademoiselle, to you, who I do not doubt will
appreciate my motives and forgive me." Louise narrated to her companion
the story of the conscription, of young Havet's trouble and her sister
Marie's; "therefore I became his substitute," she ended, "_et voilà
tout_!"
"Is it really all, Mademoiselle Louise?" said Vera. "I confess that I
fancied there might be another motive for your conduct." Louise walked
silently for a little while.
"It is true that I love him," she murmured at length; "yes,
Mademoiselle, with all my heart of hearts. I could not bear to be so far
from him."
Vera laughed. "_Mon Dieu_, Louise, you are a wonderful person! It is
sad, however, that you should have staked your happiness upon my cousin,
who is----"
"Not dead, Mademoiselle--for God's sake dare not to tell me he is dead?"
"Dead? Oh no, not that, I saw him but yesterday and spoke to him."
"You did, Mademoiselle--here, in Moscow? Oh, thank God--thank God!
Mademoiselle, I have been in terror and tribulation about him; I left
him near Smolensk, badly wounded in the shoulder, I was driven from him
to join the colours and knew not whether he lived or died."
"Yes, he lives and is well, though he looks like a dead man or near it.
So he knows you are with the army. Beware, Louise, you are playing a
dangerous game. My cousin will not respect one who thus follows him and
avows her love. Moreover, your conduct----"
"Mademoiselle--pardon--he does not know it. Thank God, I am more
modest than you suppose! Also he has avowed his love for me--he did
so before leaving Paris; still, I have not revealed myself, lest he
should disapprove of my action. I am not--not the kind that Mademoiselle
supposes."
"Forgive me, Louise; I meant my warning to be very friendly. I am
rejoiced to hear what you have said. As to his vows of love, however,
do not trust him too much. I know my cousin so well. He has loved many
times."
"Mademoiselle, I also know this, and more besides. At Smolensk, as he
lay tossing in fever, a wonderful thing happened; not knowing that I was
I, the Baron narrated to me many of his past love affairs, declaring
at the last that he remembered only one of those for whom he had felt
affection, and that one was, said he, the daughter of Pierre Dupré,
_maître d'armes_; imagine, Mademoiselle, my happiness to hear this from
him, and to receive a message from his lips to be carried to this Louise
Dupré in case of his death."
Louise was flushed and her eyes were bright with love-light. Vera looked
at her companion and laughed merrily.
"I certainly think it the most promising of Henri's love affairs that I
have yet heard of," she said; "if I see Henri again----"
"Oh, Mademoiselle, for Heaven's sake keep my secret; what would he
think--he might say angry words--he might----"
"No, no, your secret is safe; I was going to say--I will ask him to tell
me of his sickness at Smolensk; perhaps he will confide to me the tale
you have just told me; that would prove that he did not suspect you to
be yourself."
"Oh, Mademoiselle, I am sure he did not, or he would not have told me
all that he did of--of other matters," Louise blushed; and Vera laughed
and said that perhaps that was so.
"At any rate I should keep your secret," she added, "even if I saw
my cousin again, which is unlikely. I cannot associate, you see,
with Russia's enemies, even though they be personal friends or near
relations. There are those who would blame me much for walking with
yourself in this way, if they were to see us together. We must not meet
again in Moscow. I see you have had promotion; you wear a sergeant's
stripes; doubtless for some service done to your Emperor at the expense
of my poor country."
"At Borodino; the service was small enough and not worth narrating. I
have learnt, Mademoiselle, that war is detestable, and the taking of
life a most terrible thing; I shall shed no more blood, if I can help
it."
"This is the most unjust and infernal of wars," said Vera; "all wars
are abominable, but this is the worst and wickedest. Farewell, Louise,
and thank you for your timely service; this is my street and that is
my house. I hope that some day, if happier times should come, we may
perhaps be cousins."
"Oh, Mademoiselle, may that day dawn indeed--and soon!" Louise raised
Vera's hand to her lips and departed with a salute.
Unfortunately Sasha Maximof, looking out from a window for Vera's
return, saw this little demonstration, and the sight depressed and
angered him.
"I see," he said, as Vera entered, "that you have discovered another
acquaintance among the French, and, as it seems, another admirer."
"Ah, in this case the admiration is truly mutual," Vera replied gravely,
though with a twinkle in her eye. "Do you know, Sasha, _mon ami_, that
though, speaking generally, I hate all French soldiers, at this time, I
am so greatly indebted to this one and love him so well----"
"_Love_ him?" Sasha echoed miserably. "Oh! then this _is_ the one."
"Yes, this is the one; our friendship is great, but perhaps one day it
will be greater; he has this day avowed to me----" Vera paused. Sasha
continued her sentence--"His passion, I suppose. You have not accepted
him, Vera--a Frenchman? Did you not tell me you would only marry a
Russian?"
"Did I? I had forgotten. Well, we shall see. What was I saying?--Oh,
this dear, adorable soldier. He has avowed to me, _mon ami_, that he
hopes one day to become a near relation."
"Vera!" gasped Sasha, "are you mocking me?"
"On the contrary, I am confiding to you a great secret which I forbid
you to disclose to any living soul. This dear Frenchman, who has this
day done me a great service of which I will tell you presently and for
which I should like to show my gratitude in a fervent kiss----"
"Vera!" Sasha gasped.
"Do not interrupt me, _mon ami_; this dear Frenchman is, in fact, _not_
a Frenchman nor a Russian; he is not, indeed, a man of any nationality
whatever--but a woman masquerading as a man, and all for love of my
cousin Henri d'Estreville. Think of it!"
Vera exploded in a fit of merry laughter, to which the expression in
Sasha's face soon added an extra note of mirth. The laughing did her
good, for indeed there had been little of late to promote mirth in this
unhappy city of Moscow.
Afterwards there were explanations and apologies, and if Sasha Maximof
contrived to gather another grain of encouragement for his hopes, this
was not more, perhaps, than was intended.