"We must swim the river, Monsieur Constant," she said; "you and I. Let Joan go with us. Monsieur d'Izambert will not leave his son. I do not blame him, but now we must think of ourselves."
It was a bold response, and yet I will not say that I had not thought of it.
From time to time during the hours of the day's agony I had seen intrepid cavalry men go down to the swirling Bérézina, and boldly put their horses to the water. Few who did so had lived. Some were struck by Russian bullets, and died in the saddle. The horses of others, overcome by the cold, sank without warning, and dragged their masters with them. A few gained the marsh upon the opposite shore, and either breasted it or ended their sufferings there. All this we had witnessed together, and yet, as Valerie said, it was the only way—the river or the prison! Do you wonder that our choice was soon made?
We returned to the hut, and, taking Monsieur d'Izambert aside, I put the alternatives to him.
"Your son," said I, "is a very noble fellow. Be sure, monsieur, that his name will not be forgotten when the story of this day is told. The command which has been given him is a very great compliment. No doubt he will be clever enough to save himself when he has done his duty; but we must now save ourselves. It would be a madman's task to attempt to cross the bridge at such a time. There is only one way, and it is that which Mademoiselle Valerie and I propose to take."
And then I told him of our intention to swim the river.
"Your daughter," said I, "may go upon my saddle-bow. If you yourself have a mind for the venture, I will find you a horse quickly enough. The decision must rest with you. We have no time to lose, for the river is rising every hour. If you decide to remain here, being a civilian and a non-combatant, I doubt if the Russians will trouble you. That, monsieur, is for you to say. I will save your daughter if I can; the rest is in the hands of God."
He was much distressed, but he did not fail to perceive the realities of the situation. His love for his son touched me deeply, and when he declared that he would remain with Gabriel, I could not gainsay him.
"Save Joan," he said, putting both his hands into mine. "If the time should ever come that we meet again in Paris, I will never forget this day, Major Constant. I am an old man, and it can matter little to me now—but the child has all her life before her."
I thought it a wise resolution, and told him as much.