Through Russian Snows: A Story of Napoleon's Retreat from Moscow by G. A. Henty (reading women txt) 📕

cause, were stripping their estates of their serfs, and emptying their coffers into the military chests, and who would have greatly resented his removal.

The people at large, too, overjoyed at the retreat of Napoleon and the success of their arms, and ignorant of all the real circumstances of the case, regarded Kutusow with enthusiastic admiration; and Alexander felt that, great as might be his faults, the injury that would be inflicted by his supercession would be greater than the benefits derived from it. An ample supply of horses had been placed at the disposal of the English general and his aides-de-camp, and Frank, having three always at his orders, was able to ride them by turns, and therefore got through an immense amount of work. The scenes that everywhere met his eyes were far more trying than the fatigues he had to undergo. The hideous barbarities that were perpetrated by the peasants upon the French who fell into their hands, filled him with burning indignation, and at times placed his life in serious danger when he endeavoured to interfere on their behalf. He always started on his rides in the morning with his saddle-bag stored with provisions, and a small keg of spirits fastened behind him, and these were divided during the day among the unfortunate men, Russians and French alike, who, wounded or exhausted, had sunk by the way.

THE LAST OF A VETERAN OF NAPOLEON'S GRANDE ARMÉE.

Innumerable were the appeals made to him daily to end their sufferings with a pistol-ball; and, although he could not bring himself to give them the relief they craved, on several occasions, when he saw that the case was altogether beyond hope, and that but a few hours of mortal agony remained, he yielded to their entreaties, handed them one of his pistols, and walked a few paces away, until the sharp report told him that their sufferings were over.

The horrors of the hospitals at Wilna and other places affected him even more than the scenes of carnage that he had witnessed at Borodino. At Wilna the Earl of Tyrconnel was seized with a fever and died, and Frank lay for some time ill, and would probably have succumbed had not Sir Robert obtained a lodging for him at the house of a landed resident, three or four miles from the infected city. He was, in a sense, thankful for the illness, because it spared him the sight of the last agony of the broken remains of Napoleon's army. Quiet and rest soon did their work. The breakdown was the result more of over-fatigue, and of the horrors of which he was so continually a witness, than of actual fever. Frank, therefore, rapidly recovered, and declared after a fortnight that he could again sit on his horse.

The general, however, would not hear of this.

"I shall be leaving for St. Petersburg myself in a few days," he said, "and we will travel together by post. You will be sorry to hear that to-day Kutusow has been decorated with the great order of St. George. The Emperor himself begged me not to be present. He called me into his cabinet and confessed to me that it would be too humiliating to him were I to be there. He acknowledged that he felt by decorating this man with the great Order he was committing a trespass upon the institution; but he had no choice. It was a cruel necessity to which he had to submit, although he well knew that the marshal had done few things he ought to have done, with nothing against the enemy that he could avoid, and that all his successes had been forced upon him."

Sir Robert himself had urgent need of change and rest. The responsibility upon his shoulders had been tremendous. The Emperor had relied upon him entirely for information as to the true state of things in the army, and the Russian generals regarding him as specially the Emperor's representative, had poured their complaints into his ears.

Had they but received the slightest encouragement from him they would have led their divisions against the French in spite of the orders of the marshal, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he persuaded them to restrain their exasperated troops, and to submit to carry out the disastrous policy, which entailed as much loss and suffering upon the Russian soldiers as upon the French.

It was the end of January when Sir Robert Wilson and Frank reached St. Petersburg, and, putting up in apartments assigned to them in the palace, rested for a few days.

One bright morning Frank strolled down to the Nobles' Club, of which he and the general had been made honorary members. It was his first visit to St. Petersburg. His fur coat was partly open and showed his British uniform. He was looking about with interest at the scene in the Nevsky Prospect when he noticed a gentleman in a handsomely appointed sledge looking fixedly at him. As the uniform attracted general attention he thought little of this, but after going a short distance the sledge turned and passed him at a slow rate of speed. The gentleman again gazed fixedly at him, then stopped the coachman, and leaped from the sledge to the pavement.

"Frank!" he exclaimed, "is it you, or am I dreaming?"

Frank stepped back a pace in astonishment. It was the voice rather than the face that he recognized.

"Julian!" burst from his lips, "my brother, can it be really you?"

Julian held out both his hands, and they stood for a moment in silence, gazing into each other's face. Julian was the first to break the silence.

"Jump in here, Frank," he said, leading the way to the sledge. "They must all think that we have gone mad, and we shall have a crowd round us in a minute."

Still completely bewildered, Frank followed his brother.

"Drive out into the country," Julian said to the coachman as he took his seat. "This is little short of a miracle, old fellow," he said, as they drove off. "I thought you were living quietly at Weymouth; you thought I was rotting in a French prison, and here we run against each other in the heart of Russia."

"I can hardly believe even yet that it is you, Julian, you have altered so tremendously. Thank God, old man, that I have found you."

"Thank God, my dear Frank, that, as I see, that stupid business of mine has not prevented your entering the army, as I was afraid it would do; though how you come to be here is more than I can guess."

"I am General Wilson's aide-de-camp, and have been with him all through the war; and you, Julian, what on earth are you doing here? But first of all, I suppose you have not heard that you have been cleared completely of that charge of murder."

Julian's face paled at the sudden news, and he sat for a minute or two in silence.

"Quite cleared, Frank?" he asked in a low tone; "cleared so that no doubt remains, and that I can go home without fear of having it thrown into my face?"

"Completely and entirely," Frank replied. "You were cleared before you had been gone a day. The coroner's jury brought in an open verdict, but a warrant was issued against that poacher Markham; and your letter first, and his confession a year later, completely bore out the evidence at the inquest, and established his guilt beyond question."

"To think that I should never have known it," Julian said. "If I had dreamt of it I would have attempted to break out from Verdun, and make my way home. I don't know that I should have succeeded, but at any rate I should have tried. But tell me all about it, Frank; my story will keep just at present."

"You seem to have fallen on your legs, anyhow," Frank remarked. "May I ask if this is your Imperial Highness's sledge. I have learned something of the value of furs since I came out here, and that coat of yours is certainly worth a hundred pounds, and this sable rug as much more."

"It is not my sledge, nor is it my rug, though I have two or three of them quite as handsome. The coat is my own, the sledge belongs to my intimate friend Count Woronski, with whom I am at present staying."

"You really must tell me your story first," Frank said, laughing. "Now that you know you are cleared, you can very well wait to hear all the details, and I refuse to say a word until you have told me what all this means."

"Well, Frank," Julian said seriously, "mine is not altogether a pleasant story to tell now; but I acted for the best, and under the belief that there was no chance of my being able to return for years to England. The story is too long for me to give you the details now, but I will give you the broad facts. I was sent prisoner to Verdun. I was there about ten months. There was fever in the place, and we died off like sheep. There seemed no possibility of escape, and if I could have got away I could not, as I thought, make for England. I was getting hopeless and desperate, and I don't think I could have held out much longer. Then there was an offer made to us that any of us who liked could obtain freedom by enlisting in the French army. It was expressly stated that it was going east, and that at the end of the campaign we should,—if our corps was ordered to a place where it was likely to come in contact with the English,—be allowed to exchange into a regiment with another destination.

"Well, it seemed to me that it mattered very little what became of me. Even should I be exchanged and sent to England I could not have stayed there, but must have gone abroad to make my living as best I could, and I thought I might as well go as a soldier to Russia as anywhere else; so I accepted the offer, little knowing what would come of it. I regretted it heartily when I saw the misery that was inflicted by the misconduct, partly of the French, but much more of the Poles and Germans, on the unfortunate inhabitants. However, there I was, and I did my duty to the best of my power. When I tell you that I was in Ney's division, you may imagine that I had my share of it all."

"Extraordinary!" Frank said, "to think that you and I should both have been through this campaign, and on opposite sides. Why, we must have been within musket shot of each other a score of times."

"I have no doubt I saw you," Julian said; "for I often made out a bit of scarlet among the dark masses of the Russians, and thought that there must be some English officers with them. The first time I noticed them was on the heights opposite to Smolensk. Two officers in scarlet were with the batteries they planted there and drove our own off the hill on our side of the river."

"Those were the general and myself, Julian. We had only joined two days before. But still, I am as much in the dark as ever. What you have said explains how you come to be in Russia, but it does not at all explain how you came to be here like this."

"It was on the day after we got past the Russians. It was a strong place with a hard name—Jaro something or other. The next day, as we were marching along, we came across an overturned carriage. A coachman and a woman were lying dead. On nearing it, I heard a little cry, and I stepped out from the side of my company—I was a sergeant and was marching on the flank—and I found among the cushions a little girl, about six years old, who was already almost frozen to death. I fastened her on to my back under my cloak, and carried her along with me. She came round, and was a dear little creature. Well, I carried her all through the retreat. Sometimes, when there was an alarm, I had time to stow her away in one of the waggons; when there was not, she went on my back into the middle of the fighting, and you know that was pretty rough occasionally. However, we both of us seemed to possess a charm against balls. We got on all right until the day before we were to arrive at the Berezina. Then I went out foraging with some companions; they got into a hut, lit a fire, and would not leave, so I started alone