“You should remember what Wellington obviously remembers: that a French army depends for its sustenance upon the country it is invading. That is why Wellington is stripping the French line of penetration as bare of sustenance as this card-table. If we assume the existence of the barrier—an impassable line of fortifications encountered within many marches of the frontier—we may also assume that starvation will be the overwhelming force that will cut off the French retreat.”
The other’s keen eyes flickered. For a moment his face lost its assurance, and it was Samoval’s turn to smile. But the major made a sharp recovery. He slowly shook his iron-grey head.
“You have no right to assume an impassable barrier. That is an inadmissible hypothesis. There is no such thing as a line of fortifications impassable to the French.”
“You will pardon me, Major, but it is yourself have no right to your own assumptions. Again you overlook something. I will grant that technically what you say is true. No fortifications can be built that cannot be destroyed—given adequate power, with which it is yet to prove that Massena not knowing what may await him, will be equipped.
“But let us for a moment take so much for granted, and now consider this: fortifications are unquestionably building in the region of Torres Vedras, and Wellington guards the secret so jealously that not even the British—either here or in England—are aware of their nature. That is why the Cabinet in London takes for granted an embarkation in September. Wellington has not even taken his Government into his confidence. That is the sort of man he is. Now these fortifications have been building since last October. Best part of eight months have already gone in their construction. It may be another two or three months before the French army reaches them. I do not say that the French cannot pass them, given time. But how long will it take the French to pull down what it will have taken ten or eleven months to construct? And if they are unable to draw sustenance from a desolate, wasted country, what time will they have at their disposal? It will be with them a matter of life or death. Having come so far they must reach Lisbon or perish; and if the fortifications can delay them by a single month, then, granted that all Lord Wellington’s other dispositions have been duly carried out, perish they must. It remains, Monsieur le Major, for you to determine whether, with all their energy, with all their genius and all their valour, the French can—in an ill-nourished condition—destroy in a few weeks the considered labour of nearly a year.”
The major was aghast. He had changed colour, and through his eyes, wide and staring, his stupefaction glared forth at them.
Minas uttered a dry cough under cover of his hand, and screwed up his eyeglass to regard the major more attentively. “You do not appear to have considered all that,” he said.
“But, my dear Marquis,” was the half-indignant answer, “why was I not told all this to begin with? You represented yourself as but indifferently informed, Monsieur de Samoval. Whereas—”
“So I am, my dear Major, as far as information goes. If I did not use these arguments before, it was because it seemed to me an impertinence to offer what, after all, are no more than the conclusions of my own constructive and deductive reasoning to one so well versed in strategy as yourself.”
The major was silenced for a moment. “I congratulate you, Count,” he said. “Monsieur le Marechal shall have your views without delay. Tell me,” he begged. “You say these fortifications lie in the region of Torres Vedras. Can you be more precise?”