My recovery was tedious,—the scull had been slightly fractured; and hence great care was necessary. Never was a soldier more tenderly attended to; and had I heart to spare, it should have been offered to Polowna. To quit my concealment would have compromised the safety of my young preserver; and, indeed, until after Napoleon abandoned Moscow, and commenced his calamitous retreat, I should not have been able to leave my couch.
Too late the Emperor found the terrible truth confirmed, to which he had hitherto obstinately refused credence. We could no longer remain in that ruined capital, which he had risked everything to obtain; and Lauriston’s mission to Kutusoff proved a failure. The 22d of October was the day of our deliverance. The young guard retired from the ruins of Moscow; and, in an hour afterwards, a tremendous explosion announced that the last work of destruction was completed, and the Kremlin was no more.
The retreat of the invading army forms a frightful picture of retributive suffering. It shall be passed over;—one fact will tell its fearful history.—Four hundred thousand splendid soldiers, at the opening of the campaign, passed the Neimen: on the 13th of December, which may be taken as the termination of the retreat, scarcely twenty thousand men recrossed that fatal stream.
For my own part, I had long since been reported dead; and when my health was sufficiently restored, when the exertions of my excellent protectors obtained my liberty, and I rejoined the skeleton of my regiment, I was looked upon by the few survivors as one returned from the grwe. But every league that brought me nearer to France seemed to remove a weight from my bosom, and my heart beat lighter. Pauline, in all her pride of beauty, was before my eyes—and in fancy, I was a father. I obtained leave to return home for the recovery of my health—and I hurried to that home where the smiles of my young bride would welcome me. Alas! Pauline was in the grave, and a broken-hearted old man and helpless orphan, occupied a dwelling in all the gloom of bereavement, which once was the abode of loveliness and plighted faith. I listened to the sad narration half stupified with grief. Pauline had confessed her secret marriage, and had been forgiven. The hour of trial came; and, at that dreaded moment, the intelligence of my supposed death was rashly communicated—and it killed her! Enough; I bore the visitation like a man; and when an order came to join a battalion of my regiment in Spain, I willingly obeyed it. You know the rest; and, but for you, if the dead are united in another world—as my heart fondly tells me that they are—I would have been with thee, Pauline!
He stopped; a tear trickled down his cheek; and, to divert the sadness of his thoughts, I proposed that we should retire for the night. The host lighted us to a dirty and comfortless apartment; and, without undressing, we threw ourselves on the outside of the bed-coverings, and, wrapped in our cloaks, were speedily asleep. We were still fast as watchmen, when the guerilla roused us. For all, he had agreeable intelligence. There was a post established lately by General Laval, but two leagues off, occupied by a party of French lancers.—that the voltigeur could join easily. A few miles, in an opposite direction, a squadron of Julian Sanchez light cwalry were cantoned; and once with them, the fosterer and I would be in safety. Accordingly, after an early breakfast, we took leave of each other, each to follow out his respective fortunes, and, not improbably, meet again—upon a field of battle.
One thing I must not forget: when summoned to the court-yard to mount our horses, we found the hidalgo and his friend, the little physician, settling accounts with the worthy host. On certain charges in the score, the parties held very opposite opinions. A long and bootless argument ensued; and, as disputants occasionally will part, the monetary transaction of the morning seemed to have raised neither in the estimation of the other.
In turn I advanced to the landlord, paraded my purse, and demanded in what I was indebted for great hospitality, excellent wine, and a supper.
“That would kill the divil!” was an addition of the fosterer’s.
With a profound bow, the host begged to leave the consideration entirely to myself, and forthwith I produced a guinea. I never saw joy so strikingly displayed: every line of the landlord’s face expanded—the lip curled graciously—the eye sparkled; when a change as suddenly came over it, and the countenance at once changed to the very picture of despair. What could have caused this change? I turned my head. Immediately behind me the partida guide was standing, his finger in a monitory position, while his dark eye told the rest.
“Not for worlds,” faltered the unhappy man, “would I accept one real for any poor service I could show a dog—I beg pardon, Senhor,—a gentleman, who has the honour of Don Juan Diez’ acquaintance!”