the physician had provided the two travellers generously with everything they needed against the cold, nor were his provisions at all unnecessary because now, at the beginning of December, temperatures dropped, suddenly and dramatically. The thermometer fell to 20° below zero, the rivers froze and the carriage wheels no longer sank into the soft snow. The horse, too, moved surefootedly over the hard surface, although they dared not travel very fast because of the danger of overturning the top-heavy vehicle altogether.
To help maintain its balance, Barbe wrapped woollen rags about her boots and resigned herself to walking beside it, for she was desperately afraid of seeing it capsize and throw Marianne out on to the ice.
Fortunately, quite contrary to her fears, Marianne seemed to be rather better than otherwise. The fever had not returned and her cough had loosened and the fits were not so long. But to be on the safe side, Barbe made her stay wrapped up in her furs, so that only her eyes showed, bright and feverish.
In this way they travelled for three days and nights before they came within reach of the Niemen. On the evening of the third day, Barbe was so worried by the increasing cold that she refused to stop at all, especially since by this time they were in the midst of an exposed plain with no possible shelter anywhere.
'We may as well go on now,' she declared, when they stopped as they had to for something hot to eat and drink. Scattering the remains of their fire with her foot, she added: 'Tomorrow morning we shall be in Kovno.'
And so all that night Barbe walked on, carrying a lantern to light the way. She walked on doggedly until the devil sent a new ordeal to try her. Two hours before dawn, when they were actually within sight of Kovno, one of the rear wheels of the kibitka struck some unseen obstacle and broke. The kibitka lurched violently and ground to a halt.
Marianne, who had been dozing, was woken by the shock. She poked her head outside and saw Barbe's face, white and shining with mutton fat, loom up, moonlike, in the light of the lantern. In spite of the grease, which was designed to prevent her skin from chapping, little crystals of ice had formed in her eyebrows and under her nose, where her breath had frozen. Her whole face was a picture of despair.
We've broken a wheel,' she wailed. 'We can't go on! No, no—' as she saw Marianne preparing to descend. 'Don't get out! It's much too cold. You'll catch your death.'
'I'll catch it either way if we have to stay here very much longer. Are we very far from Kovno?'
'Two or three versts at most. You can see from here where the Wilia runs into the Niemen. The best thing might be—'
She had no time to say what the best thing might be, however, for just then a horseman swept round a bend in the road and bore down on them. He just managed to avoid the kibitka, which was occupying the crown of the road, but was no sooner past than he struck the bank and fell. He was up again almost at once and helping his horse back on its feet. Then, cursing volubly in French, he made his way back to the vehicle.
'Thunder of God! What in hell's going on here? You damned—' He had drawn his pistol and seemed inclined to use it. Barbe cried out quickly before he could take aim.
'It will do you no good to kill us. We've broken a wheel and we've troubles enough of our own!'
Startled at hearing his own language coming from this unrecognizable being that looked as if it were part and parcel of the country around, the man came closer.
'Oh, you're women. I'm sorry, but I could not know that and I came the very devil of a cropper. What's more, I'm in a hurry.'
As he came into the lantern light, Marianne saw to her astonishment that the man was not a soldier but an outrider of the Emperor's household. So shatteringly unexpected was his presence here, in this icy wilderness, that before she could stop herself she had demanded to know his business. Whereupon he introduced himself.
'Amodru, Madame, Outrider to his Majesty the Emperor and King. I am riding to command fresh horses. The Emperor is behind me.'
'What's that? The Emperor, do you say?'
'Will be here at any moment! So forgive me if I desert you. I'll send someone to you from Kovno. And in the meanwhile, I'll give you a hand to get this cart to one side, or else his Majesty will be obliged to stop – though I should hope less violently than I did! Make haste. I'm late already on account of having to fight off a pack of wolves.'
As he spoke, he took hold of the horse's bridle, calling out to Barbe to push as hard as she could. But Barbe did not hear him. At the mention of Napoleon's approach Marianne's first impulse had been to run wildly to hide herself in the open country and Barbe had her hands full to prevent her.
'Please! Don't be a fool! Stay here. He may not even see you. And even if he does, what have you to fear? There is no prison here, no court of law—'
'Give me some help, for God's sake!' the outrider yelled, finding the horse would not obey him.
'What do you expect me to do? Rupture myself lifting the thing? If the Emperor comes, he'll just have to stop, that's all. There'll be soldiers to move the wagon, won't there?'
'I said the Emperor, not the army,' Amodru snapped back angrily. 'His Majesty is obliged to travel on ahead. He must be in Paris as soon as possible. It seems that there's bad trouble there. So are you going to help me – Oh, my God! Here they come!'
Three vehicles had emerged from the clump of trees that marked the bend in the road. They were the Emperor's sleeping coach and two closed carriages, all three white with frozen snow. They were followed by a dozen or so mounted men.
There was no time for Marianne to scramble back into the kibitka and hide. She gave a little moan and clung to Barbe, pressing her face into her shoulder. She was ashamed of the fear which suddenly possessed her, she who had faced so many perils far worse than an Emperor's wrath, even with the full force of the law behind it. Yet what frightened her was not so much Napoleon himself as the ill-luck which dogged her so relentlessly, raising one obstacle after another in her path. It almost seemed as if she were fated never to reach Danzig.
The outrider, meanwhile, was hurrying up to the leading vehicle where a head was already poking out of the window. Marianne heard a well-known voice demanding impatiently: 'Well? What is the matter here? What is this vehicle?'
'It belongs to two women, Majesty. They've broken a wheel and I haven't yet managed to clear the road.'
'Two women? What are two women doing at this hour of night on such a road as this?'
'I don't know, Sire. One of them speaks French with a local accent and the other with no accent at all. I think that she is French.'
'Wretched fugitives like ourselves, I daresay. Someone see what can be done for them. I will wait.'
So saying, Napoleon opened the door and sprang out on to the frozen snow. In spite of her terror, Marianne could not help stealing a glance at him as he wriggled out of the great bearskin that enveloped him and came towards her, walking with some difficulty on account of the thickness of his garments and the huge fur boots he wore. Then he was beside them and Marianne's heart was thudding in her breast as he addressed them pleasantly.
'You have suffered an accident, ladies?'
'Yes, Sire,' Barbe answered him hesitantly. 'We were hoping to reach Kovno before daybreak but then this mishap occurred – and my companion is barely recovered from a grave illness. I am afraid for her in this terrible cold.'
'I see. She must have shelter. May I inquire who you are?'
Barbe was opening her mouth to say something when all of a sudden something gave way inside Marianne. Perhaps it was the will to fight. She was tired of struggling against the whole world, mankind and the elements alike. She was tired and she was ill, and it seemed to her that any prison would be preferable to what she had endured. She thrust Barbe aside and, turning so that he could see her face, sank to her knees.
'It is I, Sire! Only I! Do with me what you will.'
He uttered a muffled exclamation and then, without turning, called out sharply: 'Rustan! A light!'
The mameluke hurried forward, looking like a mountain of furs with a turban perched incongruously on top. He carried a lantern and by its fitful light Napoleon studied her face, sunken with illness, and the tears that welled from her eyes and rolled freezing down her wan cheeks. A light flashed briefly on his own eyes and was as quickly extinguished. Then he was bending over her with so stern a look that she could only moan helplessly: 'Sire – will you never forgive me?'
He did not answer but took the lantern from the mameluke's hand.
