The Great White Army Part 13

I should tell you here that the regiment had chosen but a bleak place for its bivouac that night; a night when the wind began to blow again and the moon shone clear in a starlit heaven. The road crossed a shallow valley, in the midst of which was a frozen river. The banks of this were not high enough to give much shelter from the bitter blasts, but such as it was our men availed themselves of it and lay in the hollows by the water, without fires, since the woods were some miles away to the south, and there was not a human habitation to be seen.

When all that could be done for the good fellows had been accomplished, and those who perished of fatigue were carried out of sight of the living, Payard called to Leon and myself and we set off briskly over the frozen waste. The time to dine had arrived, though as yet we knew nothing of that strange cafe in the wilderness which should harbour us.

"It is an hour's ride from here," said Payard as he mounted his horse; "nothing at all, my friends, and no Cossacks until we come to the woods. Then we shall be ready for them. En avant, mes amis, I am going to feed you well."

With this he set off at a brisk trot and we followed him without protest. The way lay in the valley of the river I have mentioned, and we followed it for at least two miles until the bank rose more steeply and afforded no longer a safe footing for our horses.

Nevertheless, we pressed on until the woods drew down to the water's edge, and Payard declared that we had need of horses no longer. From this time, as he quickly told us, we must go afoot for safety's sake; and tethering the willing animals to the first of the trees about the river's border, we entered the forest.

III

Our confidence was wonderful. We knew no more than the dead where this merry fellow was leading us, and yet we followed him as joyous adventurers upon the gayest of pilgrimages. When we heard a distant bugle and surmised that we were not far from the Russian camp, we were still unable to check his headlong advance, and though it was difficult to imagine that he knew the country, our questions concerning it were asked in vain.

"A la bonne heure," he would say when checking his step. "I have promised you a good dinner, and I am taking you where you will get it.

Do not trouble me until we arrive at the house. Then I will talk to you."

To this he added the intimation that it was dangerous to talk in a place where the trees had ears. "Do you wish to dine with the Cossacks?" he asked us. It was a question we could answer very decidedly in the negative.

Had we any doubt upon the latter point the sound of galloping horses would have made his request for prudence seem reasonable enough. It was evident that he was still following the river bank and that this was his only guide. The woods about were open and gloriously carpeted by the glistening snow. The long stems of the pines, all whitened by the frost, stood for so many sleeping sentinels of that hidden army of Russians which lay beyond them. Yet he did not hesitate, and it was only when the sounds of approaching hors.e.m.e.n drew quite near to us that Payard plunged suddenly into the undergrowth above the river bank and bade us follow him for our lives.

"The Cossacks!" cried he, and that was a word we understood too well.

They came up presently, a st.u.r.dy troop all frosted with the snow, but talking very merrily together as men who had been upon a pleasant picnic. I had no doubt that they had just visited one of our own bivouacs, and it was hard to lie there and watch them, knowing that they had sabred many an honest Frenchman that day. Yet prudence dictated such a course, and we lay in the brushwood hardly daring to breathe while they swept by. When they had gone, Payard crawled out of the bush, and shaking the snow from his ma.s.sive shoulders, he told us pleasantly that we were going to dine with them.

"The camp is a third of a mile from here," he said, "and dinner will be waiting. Let us make haste, my friends, or it will be cold."

It was all an enigma to us, you may be sure, but that was not the time to interrogate him about it, and we were content to follow in his steps while he pressed on through the wood and presently emerged upon a considerable clearing, beyond which were the bivouac fires of the Russians. The sight of this brought us to a halt, and all gathering together at the foot of a great chestnut tree, we began to argue about it for the first time.

"Yonder is the village of Vitzala," says Payard, indicating some lights far off through the trees. "There has been a Russian camp here under General Volska for the last two months. Madame Pauline is in the first house across the clearing. If we reach that safely, the rest is easy.

Her husband has gone to Petersburg, and we are not likely to be troubled by him. Of course, you know that she is a Frenchwoman."

We knew nothing of the kind. As a matter of fact, we had heard her name for the first time, but not with astonishment. It was evident from the beginning that he had formed a friendship with one of the many Frenchwomen who marched out of Moscow with our army; but that we should find her in such a place and camped with Cossacks who were sabring our fellows was a surprise indeed.

"What brings her here?" I asked him bluntly enough.

He told me in a word.

"Colonel Tcharnhoff of the dragoons is in love with her. He is supposed to be the richest man in the Russian army; his regiment lies yonder in the village, but he himself has gone north to meet the Military Council. I promise you that you are about to meet a very fine woman--and one who knows how to dine," he added with a laugh.

His candour disarmed us. We knew these Frenchwomen too well to doubt his story, and all that remained was to discover the house which harboured this interesting lady. Payard said that he had been instructed to follow the bank of the river until he came to the clearing, and that this would bring him to an isolated cabin upon the outskirts of the village. There he was to find Madame Pauline. The direction was plain, but the darkness of the night rendered the pursuit of it difficult.

We were now within a few hundred paces of the Russian camp. There was a wide lake of snow between ourselves and the sheltering thicket, and it was apparent that any moment might discover our presence to the Russians. More prudent men would have gone back as they had come; but we were as famished as the wolves, and crying to the captain to lead on, we bent our heads and ran boldly for the shelter of the distant woods.

Luck favoured us to this point. Standing upon the far side of the thicket to listen, we soon perceived that the camp was not alarmed. It is true that we could see the bayonets of the sentries moving between the trees, perhaps a hundred yards from the place where we stood; but a far more pleasant sight was a lonely wattled hut on the very brink of the wood, and this we determined could be no other than Madame Pauline's abode.

"As plain as the nose on the end of your face, and a much better colour," said Payard, rubbing his own vigorously. "She would never have sent for me if her house had been within the lines. At any rate, my friends, I will take my chance," and upon that he walked straight up to the door of this strange habitation and knocked lightly upon it.

The next moment it was opened by a man who answered him in French; and beckoning us to follow, the merry captain entered the hut without another word.

IV

I have described this building as a hut, and yet when we entered it we discovered that it deserved a better appellation.

The relic of an ancient outpost in the woods, it had been used formerly by the frontier guards, and, indeed, I have learned since that it served for officers' quarters in the days of the great Queen Catherine.

The building that we saw from the thicket was but an ante-chamber to a larger apartment which had been furnished in the oddest manner for madame's occupation.

A great stove glowed here, and the walls were hung with the costliest skins in lieu of tapestries. For carpet there was but a footing of straw rushes, and this was in odd contrast to the luxury elsewhere.

Better to our liking was a wooden table, lacking a cloth, but spread with food such as we had not seen since we left Moscow.

Bread was here--that bread for which we would have bartered our souls yesterday. We espied a great round of beef which would have fed a company of men, and a saucepan of potatoes, steaming upon the stove of which I have spoken. Not only this, but dainties innumerable littered madame's board; and our eyes feasted already upon the preserved fruits which every Russian loves; sweetmeats from Germany, fine liqueurs and bottles of wine, all promising a veritable orgy to men who had suffered the rigours of that unnameable retreat.

Naturally, Leon and I thought of these things first, but presently we heard a voice from a room beyond, and madame herself now appeared and greeted us with a welcome which nothing could have surpa.s.sed. Were we not Frenchmen, and was she not our sister in the remote wilderness? Be not astonished that we kissed her upon both cheeks as though we had known her all our lives.

Let me describe this wonderful personage for you as well as memory permits. Above the middle height, with a superb figure and limbs which would not have disgraced a grenadier, she wore the green uniform of the Cossacks of the Guard, and mighty well it became her, as we all agreed.

Not a beautiful woman as the canons go; her hair was frankly red, though cut short and hardly reaching to her shoulders; yet there was a power of character in her face which none could mistake, and she had the kindest smile that I have ever seen upon a woman's face. To us her welcome was unqualified.

"You are at home here, my friends," she said; "are you not all Frenchmen, and am I not your sister? Ah, how well I know what you have suffered! Would that I could bring the others here to this mean house and give them what they deserve! Such as it is, however, my hospitality is always at the service of yourselves and your comrades.

Shall we now sit down to table? You will not tell me that you are not ready."

We told her nothing of the kind, but followed her as dogs that hear the huntsman's step. The peril of the house, the chance of our being discovered there, the consequence of such discovery, troubled us not at all. We could have taken the meat in our hands and gnawed it as hounds will gnaw a bone, and I would say that there could have been no more revolting spectacle than that of our appet.i.tes at madame's hospitable board. Nothing came amiss to us--meat and drink; sweetmeats and liqueurs--we devoured them in a frenzy, and not until we had gorged ourselves shamelessly did a man of us put a question as to our situation.

Oddly enough, madame heard us with some discomfort, I thought, directly we began to speak about the regiment. Turning to Payard, she said:

"My friend, do you not understand that I am the wife of a Russian officer, and can tell you nothing? I have promised you shelter in this house, and you may count upon me; but do not expect me to betray anything or anybody. Rather let me fill your gla.s.ses and drink the toast that I shall propose to you: 'France, our own beloved country.

To our safe return!' Will you not pledge that?"

Naturally we responded with all our hearts to such a pleasant sentiment; nay, I think we had drunk the toast at least three times when, without warning, the French servant burst into the room, and, white as death, he cried, "Madame, here is Colonel Tcharnhoff returned!"

V

Now, I do not think at the first we understood the significance of this intrusion.

Remember that we had dined very well, and that our heads were turned by the good wine madame had offered us. Perhaps we had forgotten that we were in the heart of the enemy's camp, and that for a word they would have cut us to pieces. I remembered vaguely that Payard had spoken of a certain Tcharnhoff as one of madame's lovers; but for the moment it was difficult to connect the terror of the serving man with the gossip of the roadside.

In the same spirit my nephew Leon laughed foolishly when he heard the servant, and immediately cried, "Let Colonel Tcharnhoff come in!" This cry Payard himself repeated, banging the table with his fist and seeming to think it the best of jokes. Madame alone rebuked us by her att.i.tude. I have never seen a woman so obviously overcome by terror and yet so much mistress of herself.

"Keep your seats," she said, half rising as she spoke. "Say nothing until I have told him." And with that she stood erect at the head of the table and waited for the colonel to enter.

Her att.i.tude sobered us. The tragic terror of the woman, her fine determination, the splendid figure she cut there at the table's head, were so many rebukes upon our foolish levity. Instantly we realised that we were in deadly peril by the advent of this unknown man, and turning as he entered, we scrutinised him closely.

Ferdinand Tcharnhoff was then in his thirty-fifth year. They say that if you scratch a Russian you will find a Tartar; but this fellow was an Eastern from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, and no man could have mistaken him. Bearded like a savage Englishman, his face might have been that of an animal, and his cunning eyes those of a pig.

He wore the white uniform of the dragoons with their cloak and helmet, and his sword was still unbuckled when he came in. Never shall I forget the look of astonishment which crossed the man's face when he beheld us at his table.

"How?" he cried in his own tongue, and then he looked from us to madame and round about at his servants as though fearing that a trap had been laid for him. It was at this moment that madame advanced, both her hands outstretched in welcome, and laughing with the wit of a born actress.

"These are my friends and relatives from Paris," she cried. "I am feeding them, Ferdinand. I told you that I would do so if ever I had the chance."