by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XV
IN COMFORTABLE QUARTERS
It was an hour before the Count returned to the nursery. "Ah, myfriend," he said, "what happiness have you brought to us. Already mywife is a new creature. I had begun to think that I should lose her too,for the doctors told me frankly that they feared she would fall into adecline. Now her joy is so great that it was with difficulty that Icould tear myself away from contemplating her happiness, but the doctorcame in and recommended that she should try and sleep for a time, or ifshe could not sleep that she should at least lie absolutely quiet, soStephanie has nestled down by her side, and I was able to come to you."He now led the way to a luxuriously furnished smoking-room.
"This is my snuggery," he said. "The library below is where I go intomatters with my stewards, receive persons who come on business, and soon. This is where I read and receive my friends. Now, will you helpyourself to those cigars, and let us talk. At present I know nothing.Stephanie was left down at our estate, near Kieff, under the charge ofher French nurse, who has been with her since she was born. She wasrather governess than nurse of late. She was a French _emigre_, and ofgood French family, and we had implicit confidence in her. I wrote toher when the invasion first began, saying that as at present we couldnot tell whether St. Petersburg or Moscow would be Napoleon's object ofattack, but as all the centre of Russia would be involved in the war, Iwished that Stephanie should remain quietly with her. I said that,should any French army approach Kieff, she was to take Stephanie at onceto my estate near Odessa.
"After the invasion began I sent off several letters to the sameeffect, two by my own couriers, but owing to our army falling back sorapidly, I imagine that none of the letters ever reached the nurse. Ofcourse, the whole postal communication of the country has been throwninto confusion. At last, two months ago, a messenger from Kieff broughtme a letter from her making no allusion to those I had sent her, butsaying that as she heard that the French army was at Moscow she feltsure I should wish her to bring Stephanie to us, and that, after aconsultation with my steward, she would in three days start direct aftersending off her letter. We were, of course, thunderstruck. Sheapparently had the idea that the whole of the French were at Moscow, andthat it would, therefore, be perfectly safe to cross the roads betweenthem and the frontier. The poor woman said that should they by anychance come across any body of her countrymen, she was sure that theywould not interfere with a woman and child. Her anxiety seemed to relatesolely to the weather and food, but she assured me that she would bringan abundance of wraps of all sorts, and a supply of provisions in the_fourgon_ sufficient for the journey.
"Half an hour after I received the letter I sent off two couriers. Theywere, of course, to go round east of Moscow and then to Kieff. They wereto drive at the top of their speed the whole way, and I obtained aspecial order for them to be instantly furnished with post-horseseverywhere. In the meantime there was nothing to do but to wait. Myorders were that immediately they arrived they were to send off a freshmessenger by the way they had come, saying whether Stephanie hadstarted, and they were bearers of letters of instruction to the stewardthat six mounted men were instantly to follow the road the carriage hadtaken, making inquiries at every post-house, and to endeavour to tracethem, and if the clue was anywhere lost to bring word to me. I waitedten days, then I got news that Stephanie had left five weeks before mymessengers arrived there. The nurse's letter had been a very long timein coming to me, and they had started, as she said, three days after itwas written, therefore if they had got safely through the countryoccupied by the French they should have arrived here at least threeweeks before.
"According to the dates there was little doubt that they must havecrossed the main road from Moscow to the frontier at the very time whenthe French army on its retreat would be moving along. All that we hadheard and knew of the terrible distress, both of their army and of ourown, showed that at that time the intense suffering of the French andthe savage reprisals of our peasantry had reduced them to a state whennothing was respected, and that a pair of valuable horses and a heap ofcostly furs, to say nothing of the food carried, would be prizes almostbeyond value. Deprived of these, a nurse and child would, in a fewhours, die of the cold. That some such fate must have befallen themseemed almost certain, for otherwise they must have joined us.
"I could tell pretty well the road that they would follow, and startedalong it. Half way between here and Smolensk I met the six men. Whatthey said confirmed my worst fears. They had learnt where the carriagehad last halted for the night. The party had not travelled post, but hadkept their own horses and had travelled only by day. Had they lingeredonly one day anywhere on the way they would have crossed the Moscow roadon the day after the rear-guard of the French had passed.
"But news travelled slowly, and no doubt, at the post-house where theyslept, no word that the French army was passing along had been received.Beyond that, the men had been able to gather no news whatever of thecarriage. The country was a desert, tenanted only by dead; and the men'sdescriptions of what they saw were so horrible that my blood wasfrozen. However, I kept on my journey, taking them with me. We went tothe post-house where the carriage had last stopped, and then took up thesearch. There were half a dozen roads by which they might haveproceeded; however, we took the most easterly one, and then, when itcrossed the main road, followed the latter. It was choked with desertedwaggons and guns. Dead bodies lay everywhere; many partly devoured bywolves; all stripped of their clothing. After making our way throughthis terrible scene for a few miles, we saw, fifty yards from the road,the remains of a sleigh. Its bright yellow colour caught our eyes, andwhen we got to it there was no room for doubt. The body of the sleighwas gone--had been burnt for firewood; but the colour was that of my owncarriage, and two of the men who belonged to the stables at Kieff saidthat they could swear to it, owing to a new iron that had been put on toone of the runners the day before it had started. But there were othersigns. Portions of the harness lay about, and on one of these enough ofthe silver-work remained to show that it was ours.
"Then we searched farther. Turning over a mound of newly-fallen snow, wefound the bodies of the coachman and the nurse. We searched for hours,but could not find that of the child; but as to her fate we had nodoubt. She might have run away into the forest, or she might have beendevoured by wolves. That she was dead was certain. I left four of themen there. They were to establish themselves in the nearest village, andto continue the search day by day, and to remain there, if necessary,till the spring came and the snow disappeared. I returned here ten daysago with the news that all hope was at an end, and that Stephanie waslost to us for ever. Now, sir, will you tell me how it was that yousaved her? You were doubtless with the French army, though how you cameto be there is almost as great a puzzle as how Stephanie was saved."
"I will tell you that afterwards, Count," Julian replied.
Then he related how, on marching past the overturned carriage, he heardwhat would doubtless have been Stephanie's last cry, and had found herlying half-frozen among the cushions. He stated the means he had takento restore warmth to her, and how he had strapped her to his back underhis warmly-lined cloak.
Then he gave, as well as he could remember, the details of each day'sexperience: how Stephanie had become a general pet of the soldiers; howthey had manufactured a warm cloak and hood for her; how she had riddenon shoulders, and had joined in the marching songs of the regiment, andhad really kept well and in good spirits on the march; how, as he gottoo weak to carry her, she had trotted by his side; and how hiscomrades, in spite of their exhaustion, had been willing to relieve himof her weight. Then he told how, at last, they had separated from theregiment when but a few hours' march from the Berezina; and howStephanie in turn had saved his life from the peasants.
"So you see, Count," he concluded, "the kindness that I had shown yourchild has already been repaid to me many fold. Not only did she save mylife from the peasants, but I have no doubt that her pretty talk, andthe occupati
on she offered to my thoughts, and her warmth as she nestledclose to me at night, were the means of my retaining my strength to afar greater degree than was the case with most of my comrades, andenabled me to survive when so many dropped dead from cold andexhaustion."
"That may be so, my friend," the count said. "God has doubtless rewardedyou for your good action, but that in nowise lessens our obligationstowards you. Now, will you tell me somewhat of your own history?"
"It is a long story, Count."
"All the better, my friend. I trust that my wife is asleep by thistime, and the child with her, and nothing can be of greater interest tome than to hear it."
Julian therefore related his story in full, and produced the paper givenhim on his enlistment, guaranteeing that he should not be called upon tofight against his countrymen.
"Since we entered Russia, Count," he said, "and I have seen the savagemanner in which the peasantry were treated, not so much by the Frenchtroops as by the allies, I bitterly regretted that I had enlisted; but,at the time, no notion of this had ever entered my mind. I have told youthat the life at Verdun was intolerable. We died in hundreds, for a sortof dull despair seemed to settle on everyone; and, although for a longtime I had borne up against it, I had come to the point when death wouldhave been welcome. A return to my own country seemed closed to me, owingto the circumstances I have related to you; and I entered the Frenchservice, just as, in the wars a couple of hundred years ago, Englishmenand Scotchmen were to be found fighting as soldiers of fortune in thearmies of well-nigh every power of Europe."
"I cannot blame you, Mr. Wyatt. Yours is a singular and most unfortunatestory, and it seems to me that, had I been in your place, I should haveacted precisely the same, and should have been glad to take serviceunder any flag rather than have remained to rot in a prison. Certainlyyou had a thousand times better excuse than had the Austrians andPrussians, who, after having been our allies, entered upon this savagewar of invasion without a shadow of excuse, save that it was the will ofNapoleon. However, I think that it will be as well, in order to save anynecessity for explanation, that I should introduce you to my friends asan English gentleman who has come to me with the warmestrecommendations, and whom I am most anxious to serve in any way. This isnot a time when men concern themselves in any way with the privateaffairs of others. There is not a family in Russia, high or low, whohas not lost one or more members in this terrible struggle. Publicly,and as a nation, we rejoice at our deliverance, and at the destructionof our enemies. Privately, we mourn our losses.
"They have been terrible. As yet we scarcely know how great; but Iimagine that they will be found to have been no less than that of theenemy. We hear that, in the pursuit, and without having taken any partin the actual fighting after Krasnoi, Kutusow's army alone has lostnearly 100,000 men from cold and fatigue; while, of the central army ofNapoleon, but four hundred infantry and six hundred cavalry repassed theNiemen with their arms and standards. The other Russian divisionssuffered as severely as those with Kutusow. The Emperor has himself goneto Wilna to endeavour to alleviate the sufferings of the sick andwounded, with which the city is crammed. Wide as will be the mourning inFrance, it will be no less so in Russia. Now, the first thing to do isto provide you with suitable garments. This I will put in handimmediately; but, until they can be procured, you must content yourselfwith some of mine, though, as you are some four inches taller than I amand far wider, they will suit you but poorly. However, I have an amplestore of dressing-gowns and wraps, and you must remain indoors aprisoner until you are properly fitted out. By the way, I had aninterview with the two honest men who came with you before I returned toyou, and have arranged their business fully to their satisfaction. ThePapa will be able to build himself a new church, and the villagers torepair all the losses they have suffered in the campaign.
"They were," he said, with a smile, "anxious to see you, as they saidthat they had an account to settle with you, as you had furnishedone-third of the money required for the trip. However, I told them thatthey could set their minds at rest on that score, for that I wouldsettle with you privately. I only mention it that you should not thinkthey had gone off without any remembrance of your share in thebusiness."
An hour later, a tailor with his assistant came to measure Julian. Threedays later, the Count suggested that he should go for a drive with himin his sledge, and, wrapped up in furs, Julian took his place beside himin a splendidly-appointed open vehicle. Stephanie sat between them. Thesledge was drawn by three horses--the centre one in shafts, while thoseon either side ran free. A purple net covered the three animals almosttouching the ground, and so preventing the particles of snow beingthrown up by their hoofs into the sledge. The driver, in fur cap andpelisse, and with an immense beard, sat on a seat in front. A number ofbells were attached to the harness of the horses, and to a bow-shapedpiece of wood that arched over the head of the central horse.
"This is an improvement on the post-waggons, Stephanie," Julian said.
The child nodded brightly. "You said it would all seem like a dream,Julian," she remarked presently, as they dashed swiftly down the broadstreet of the Nevsky, crowded with vehicles of all kinds, from thesplendidly-appointed sledges, like their own, to the lumbering vehiclesof the peasants piled up with firewood. "It almost seems like a dreamalready, and yet you know I was very comfortable with you."
"It will be something for you to look back upon all your life," herfather said. "There will be many who will have strange and sad memoriesof the war, but not one who will have a stranger experience than youhave to talk about. Happily, there was, as far as you are concerned, butlittle sadness in it."
Julian was delighted with the brightness and gaiety of St. Petersburg,with its broad streets, its stately palaces, its fine cathedrals, andits busy population. The universal use of furs prevented the symbols ofmourning being apparent, and, as they drove along in the luxuriousequipage, even he, like the child, could scarce believe that thedesperate fight at Smolensk, the even longer and more obstinate contestat Borodino, and the terrible scenes on the retreat, were realities. Onhis return to the palace, Julian understood the object of the Count inhaving taken him for a drive, for he found the _armoires_ and wardrobesof his room crammed with garments of all descriptions.
Here was underclothing of every kind, sufficient for a life-time;morning suits, riding suits, dress suits, visiting suits, in bewilderingvariety. In one wardrobe were three superb overcoats, lined with themost costly furs, half a dozen fur caps of various patterns, four hugefur rugs, high boots lined with fur, a dozen pairs of fur gloves forwalking and driving; and arranged along the wall were ten pairs of bootsof different kinds, fur-lined slippers, and dress boots. He examinedthem all with something like consternation.
"What nonsense!" he exclaimed. "What am I to do with all these things?It is magnificent; but it is too much altogether. Why, these furs aloneare worth hundreds of pounds! No doubt the count is extremely rich. Ihave already heard him speak of three or four estates in different partsof Russia, and this palace is fit for a prince. Of course, he can affordit well enough, but to me all this is quite overpowering. I should liketo see Aunt's face if I were to turn up at Weymouth with all this kit."
There was a letter lying on the table. He opened it. It was, as he hadexpected, from the count.
"My dear Mr. Wyatt, you will, I am sure, accept the little outfit that Ihave provided, in the same spirit in which I have obtained it, and willoblige me by making no allusion to it whatever, or to the contents ofthe enclosed pocket-book, which will provide you with ready-money whileyou are staying here. They are but poor tokens of the life-longobligations you have conferred upon the countess and myself."
The pocket-book contained a roll of Russian notes to the value of athousand pounds. Julian felt that there was indeed nothing to do but, asthe letter said, to accept the presents in the spirit in which they weremade. Everything showed that thoughtful kindness had been exercised. Onthe dressing-table stood a superb travelling-case of R
ussian leather,fitted with all necessaries of the toilet in ivory, mounted with silver,and with his initials engraved upon the back of the various brushes.Hitherto he had made no attempt to remove the soft brown beard that hadgrown untouched from the day when the army had turned its back uponMoscow. He now set to and shaved himself, and then dressed for dinner.In glancing at one of the long cheval glasses in the room, he could notbut feel a distinct satisfaction at his appearance. Except in shopwindows in Germany, he had not, since he left home, had the opportunityof seeing more of himself than could be gathered from the tiny glassthat formed part of his kit.
He now saw himself as he was, a tall figure of six feet two in height,with a broad pair of shoulders. The scenes of the last six months hadgiven an expression of power and decision to his face that it had lackedbefore. The stern, set look of battle had left its mark upon it, andthough a distinctly pleasant and kindly one, it was undoubtedly that ofa soldier who had seen hard service and had looked death many times inthe face. All question as to what he should say to the count was set atrest on his entry into the drawing-room, for the count took him by thehand, and, leading him across the room, presented him to the countess,who had for the first time made her appearance. She rose as they cameacross, and with trembling hands and eyes full of tears, came up to him.
"Ah, Mr. Wyatt," she said, "what can I say to the saviour of my child?I have had difficulty in restraining my patience so long; but it wasonly to-day that the doctor gave me permission to leave my room."
She held out both her hands to him. He bowed deeply over them and raisedthem to his lips. "My happiness is no less than your own, countess," hesaid, "that God has permitted me to be the means of bringing your childback again. It was no great thing to do on my part; and, as I have toldthe count, the little act of kindness was vastly more than repaid, foryour daughter assuredly saved my life from the peasants, as I saved hersfrom the cold. Your little daughter is quite a heroine," he said morelightly. "I can assure you that even when the bullets were flying aboutthickly she evinced no signs of fear, and the way in which she stoodbefore me facing those enraged peasants was splendid."
"It shows her perfect faith in you, Mr. Wyatt. A child who has absoluteconfidence in the person in whose charge she is, is almost without fear.Her idea of danger is derived almost entirely from the conduct of thosearound her. If they show fear, she is terrified; while if their mannerconvinces her that they have no fear, she does not understand thatdanger can exist. She is evidently deeply attached to you, as indeed shehas reason to be, and when I get tired with talking to her, and say toher, 'Now you must go, dear,' she trots off as contentedly to you as ifyou were indeed what she calls you, her nurse, much more so than sheused to do to Claire. The poor woman was a most careful nurse and anexcellent instructress, although she did start so madly, as it wouldseem, on this journey. But the child never really took to her, as shehad not the faculty of winning affection. She was thoroughlytrustworthy, and would, I believe, have given her life for the child,but she was certainly rather precise in manner, and was perhaps a littletoo peremptory in giving her orders. That was, I admit, a fault on theright side, for Stephanie is so accustomed to adulation on the part ofthe servants, that she rather needs a firm hand over her. However, thechild has scarcely mentioned Claire's name since her return, while yoursis incessantly on her lips."
"She has not been in any way spoilt by adulation, Countess, and has beenas amenable to my slightest wish as the humblest peasant child could be;but she certainly has a pretty little air of dignity. It was funny tosee how she queened it among the French soldiers, who always called herMademoiselle la Comtesse, and always put aside the best piece of theirscanty ration of meat for her."
"Yes, she has been telling me how good they were to her. What a war thishas been, Mr. Wyatt."
So they chatted until dinner was announced; then the countess lay downon the sofa, and Stephanie came in and sat on a low stool beside her,while her father and Julian went to the dining-room. After the meal wasover the count proposed that Julian should accompany him on a visit tothe Nobles' Club. The sledge was already waiting at the door, and in afew minutes they arrived, not, as Julian had expected, at a statelybuilding, but at a garden.
"This is our skating place," the count said as they entered. "We haveguest-nights here once a week during the winter. As a rule, thosepresent are simply the invited guests of members; but to-night thetickets are sold at twenty roubles each, and the proceeds go to thefunds for the benefit of the wounded. It will furnish a handsome sum,for everyone is here, and there are few indeed who have paid as littleas the twenty roubles. Some sent cheques for as much as five hundredroubles for their tickets, and a hundred may be taken as the average.This is the first time that we have had a military band, for music isnaturally considered out of place when everyone is in mourning and suchvast numbers of our soldiers are still suffering horribly; but as thisis for their benefit it is considered as an exception. You will not seemuch skating; the ice will be far too crowded."
It was indeed a brilliant scene. The gardens were lighted with myriadsof lamps. The sheet of ice was of a very irregular shape and broken byseveral islets, upon which grew trees. From their branches hung numbersof lanterns, while the bank round the ice was studded with lamps. Thecrowds walking about by the edge of the lake were all wrapped up infurs. A large proportion of those on skates wore uniforms, while theladies were in short, tightly-fitting jackets, trimmed with fur, andwith coquettish little fur caps. The crowd was far too great for anyattempt at figure-skating, but they moved swiftly round and round thelake in a sort of procession, each lady accompanied by a cavalier, whoheld her hand, and all skating with a grace and freedom that was toJulian surprising indeed. The scene, with its bright colours and rapidmovement, was almost bewildering, and Julian was glad to turn away andgo up to the pavilion, where hot coffee and liquors were handed to allcomers.
The count spoke to many acquaintances, introducing Julian to each ofthem as his great friend, Monsieur Wyatt, an Englishman. After waitingan hour in the gardens they drove to the club itself. There were here alarge number of gentlemen, all of whom had been for a few minutes at thegarden. Here more introductions took place, and the count put downJulian's name as an honorary member. "You will have a long day's workto-morrow, Monsieur Wyatt."
"How is that, Count?"
"It will be your duty to call upon every gentleman to whom I haveintroduced you; that is to say, to leave a card at the door, and everyone of them will leave a card at my house for you. I will make out alist for you in the morning of the names and addresses. You will find asledge at the door at three o'clock; it will be at your disposal whileyou remain with me. It is a small and light one, like this, with a pairof horses. It is seldom that three horses are used unless ladies are ofthe party. There is much for you to see, and it will be more pleasantfor you to be your own master and go about as you please."
The following morning, after breakfast, the count said, as they littheir cigars, "Have you formed any plans yet, Mr. Wyatt? Of course I donot mean for the present. It is understood that this is your home aslong as you will be good enough to make it so, and the longer you staythe greater pleasure it will give us; but I mean for the future. Are youthinking of returning to England?"
"I am intending to write at once to my brother. Whether he is at home ornot, of course I cannot say. He was going into the army, but I greatlyfear that the unfortunate affair in which I was engaged will haverendered that impossible. At any rate, I shall also write to my aunt; ifalive she is sure to be there. In the first place, I shall tell themwhat has become of me. There has been no possibility of my sending aletter from the time I left home, with the exception of one writtenwhile crossing the Channel, and which the smugglers promised to deliveron their return. They must think that I am dead by this time, and myletter will, at any rate, relieve their anxiety. In the next place, I ammost anxious to know if anything has been heard further from thesmuggler. He gave me his solemn promise that in the event of
his death aletter acknowledging that he was the murderer should be sent to themagistrates of Weymouth. I have no reason in the world for supposingthat he is dead, for he was not above middle age, and if, as is but tooprobable, no such letter had been received, I cannot return home. Imight, however, return to London, and thence take ship to some foreigncountry--either to the United States or to South America, or perhaps toour own colony of Canada, and make my way there or enlist in theEnglish army."
"Or you might stay here?"
"I might stay here, count, but as I am ignorant of Russian, and have notrade or profession, I do not well see what I could possibly do."
"You would not be long in picking up Russian," the count said, "and ifyou could make up your mind to settle down here until you learn thatyour innocence of this foul charge has been completely proved, therewould be no necessity for any trade or profession. Why, Monsieur, you donot suppose that the countess and I are without heart, or would allowyou, the preserver of our child, to struggle for an existence here oranywhere else! We have more money than we know what to do with. We havesix estates in different parts of Russia. We have some ten thousandserfs. However, we can settle nothing until you receive an answer toyour letter; after that we will talk matters over seriously. At anyrate, do not trouble about your future. This is the reason that I havespoken to you to-day. Your future is our care, and you can leave itsafely in our hands."
"You are too good altogether, Count," Julian said; but the Russianchecked him with a peremptory gesture of his hand.
"Let us have no talk like that, Mr. Wyatt. You will only pain me deeply,and make me think less well of you than I do now. Stephanie is to usinfinitely more than all our possessions, and did we assign to you allelse that we have in the world we should feel that the balance ofobligation was still against us. Now let us talk of other matters. Inthe first place, about sending your letter. Of course, at present theBaltic is frozen, and the ports beyond are all in the hands of theFrench. Sweden, however, is in alliance with us, and our despatches forEngland go up through Finland, then across the ice to Sweden, and byland to Gothenburg, and thence by sea to England. It is a round-aboutjourney, but it is performed rapidly; and as there are English packetsalways ready to sail from Gothenburg, your letters should, underfavourable circumstances, be in England in a fortnight.
"I should incline to advise you to write them in duplicate, for thepacket might be captured by a French privateer on its way, and it wouldbe safer therefore to despatch copies of your letters ten days afterthose you first send off. In five weeks, if all goes well, you mayexpect an answer. In the meantime, I hope you will find enough to amuseyou here, although the opera is closed, and there will be nothing likegaieties this season; still, there will be dinner parties and the club;and when you feel that you want a change I have an estate some fivehours' sledge drive from here. It consists largely of forest, but thereis plenty of game, elk and bears. If you are fond of shooting I canpromise you good sport."
"Thanks, indeed, Count. I am quite sure that I shall not be tired of St.Petersburg in five or six weeks' time, and as for shooting, I do notfeel at present as if I should ever care to fire a gun again, certainlynot to take life, unless to satisfy hunger. I have seen so many horsesand dogs die, and have felt so much pity for them that I do not thinkthat I shall ever bring myself to take the life of a dumb beast again. Iam afraid I became somewhat callous to human life. I have seen thousandsof men die, and came somehow to regard it as their fate; and certainly,during the retreat it came in most cases as a happy release fromsuffering. But I could never, to the end, see a horse that had fallennever to rise again, or a starving dog lying by its master's body,without having intense pity for the poor creatures, who had, through nofault or will of their own, come to this grievous end. No doubt you, asa sportsman, Count, may consider this as overstrained feeling. I amquite willing to admit that it may be so. I can only say that at presentI would not fire at an elk or a bear on any condition whatever."
"I can understand your feelings. I myself have had the cry of a horsepulled down by wolves, in my ears for days, and I can well imagine howthe sight of so much suffering day after day among thousands of animalswould in time affect one."
The next three weeks passed most pleasantly for Julian. Every day therewere calls to make, excursions to various points to be undertaken, anddinner parties nearly every evening, either at the count's, at thehouses of his friends, or at the club. He found French almostuniversally spoken among the upper class, and was everywhere cordiallywelcomed as a friend of the count's. The latter was sometimes questionedby his intimate acquaintances as to his English friend, and to them hereplied, "Monsieur Wyatt is the son of a colonel in the English army. Hehas rendered me a very great service, the nature of which I am not atliberty to disclose. Suffice that the obligation is a great one, andthat I regard him as one of my dearest friends. Some day, possibly, mylips may be unsealed, but you must at present be content to take him onmy sponsorship."
The countess had gained strength rapidly, and there were no grounds forany further uneasiness as to her health; she was now able to take dailydrives with Stephanie.
"The child has become quite a military enthusiast," she said to Julianone day. "Nothing pleases her so much as to look on at the troopsdrilling."
St. Petersburg was indeed crowded with soldiers. New armies were risingin all parts of Russia, and great preparations were being made torecommence the campaign in the spring, this time upon foreign ground. Nosacrifices were too great to demand from the people. Nobles andmerchants vied with each other in the amount of their contributions,and as it was certain that Austria, and probably Prussia would join thealliance, hopes were entertained that the power that had dominatedEurope for so many years would be finally crushed. Already seriousdisasters had fallen upon France in Spain. It was probable that ere longthe whole of the Peninsula would be wrested from her, and that she wouldbe threatened with an invasion in the south, as well as in the east. Inspite, therefore, of the terrible losses and calamities she hadsuffered, Russia looked forward with ardent hope and expectations to thefuture.
