Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812Whishaw, Frederick
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Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812
Whishaw, Frederick
Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Campaigns -- Russia -- Fiction
If any one had told Vera that she had remained in Moscow partly at
least in the hope of seeing a Frenchman, one Paul de Tourelle; of
assuring herself that he was alive and well and that he still loved her,
perhaps she would have admitted the first portion of the indictment,
but certainly not the last. Vera was, as a matter of fact, anxious to
see Paul, if possible, but for a different reason. Whether he loved her
or not was, at this moment of patriotic fervour, a matter of supreme
indifference to her, for, indeed, she more than suspected that she had
altogether lost that partiality for the young Frenchman which she had
believed to be a preliminary to love; perhaps her patriotic hatred
of the invaders of her country had scotched all private feelings for
individual French persons; perhaps there were other reasons. At any rate
Vera was anxious to see the man in order to make sure of herself; it
was just as well, she thought, to know one's own heart. In any case she
would be a patriot first. If she found that she still preserved some
affection for this man, it might be a comfort to her wounded patriotic
spirit to offer her private feelings a living sacrifice. At least she
could do that much for Russia, if there was little else a woman could
do.
On the day of the evacuation of Moscow Vera, sitting at her window and
watching the turmoil and movement of the people in the streets below,
heard the footsteps of someone running rapidly down the road. She
recognised Sasha Maximof, who entered the house panting and excited.
"Vera, what is the meaning of this?" he said; Sasha was greatly
agitated--"I hear you are determined to remain in Moscow--have you
thought of the dangers from lawless French soldiers, the uselessness,
the----"
Vera laughed. "Dear Sasha," she said, "give me time to say 'thank God
you are alive and safe'; remember that I have not seen you since July
and now it is September, and we have heard nothing of you!" Vera was,
as a matter of fact, more relieved and grateful on this account than
she quite realised; she had worried much on Sasha's behalf, chiefly--as
she had assured herself--because of the anxiety of his mother, who had
received no news of her son, but largely also on her own account, for
at his last visit to Moscow she had learned, and made no secret of the
fact, that young Maximof was an immensely improved person, and that she
really quite liked and admired him.
"As for remaining in Moscow, I think I can take care of myself; I speak
French so easily, you see, that I shall pass as a Frenchwoman in case of
need; for the rest, I am not at all afraid, and I belong, moreover, to
the patriotic guild and am bound to watch for opportunities to serve our
beloved Russia."
"There can be none, Vera, believe me, that a woman can safely employ.
For God's sake be persuaded to leave the city."
Vera shook her head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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