‘Each country has its own culture, and every culture is by definition fascinating. I have come here to encounter Russian culture and to bring to it republican ideals.’
The young woman seemed put out.
‘To encounter Russian culture? Are you not aware that the victors always destroy the culture of the vanquished? What did the conquistadors retain of the culture of the Aztecs and of the Incas? Nothing as far as I can see, apart from slaves, land and the gold obtained from melting down their jewels.’
‘Well, perhaps they missed exactly what was most precious. Like the magpies, they went straight for what glittered.’
‘So what do you know about Russian or Polish culture? You’ll tell me that the peasants dance on their haunches, kicking their legs in the air, that the priests have funny long beards, that people travel around by sleigh in the winter and that the bell towers of the churches have decidedly odd roofs … Well, if that’s what Russian culture is for you …’
‘All that is indeed part of it. But an essential element of this culture seems to me to be tenacity. During some fighting I saw a whole row of Russians fall to the ground when under fire by our company. There were only three soldiers left standing. Do you think those three surrendered? No, they fought hand to hand with determination, as if they’d been facing up to us right in the middle of their battalion, packed tight against one another. There are traces of this Russian fighting spirit to be found in you.’
The young woman blinked. She had never been spoken to like this. Her mother had noticed how troubled she looked but, having a poor command of French, she did not properly understand the reason.
Thinking that her daughter had been shocked by the virile account of some martial exploit, she was quick to declare: ‘War is a terrible thing. It’s better not to talk about it.’
Piquebois sat up in his chair. ‘How skilful you are, Countess, at summarising the situation and solving the most difficult issues.’
The countess smiled at him politely to thank him for his compliment, its biting irony completely escaping her. She announced that it was time to go for dinner and rose to her feet. Her husband took her arm. Fanselin did likewise with Natalia, his privilege as a member of the Guard.
As they made their way to the dining room, Saber whispered to Margont: ‘Trying to seduce the young countess, are we? A chateau and the title of count for the price of a wedding ring is a pretty good way of recovering one’s costs. It’s pathetic! Watching you boast about your military exploits like that …’
‘But my dear Irenee, it’s your own reflection you’re looking at.’
‘Pathetic!’
The immense dining room was decorated with tapestries depicting impenetrable forests or waterfalls in which water sprites were bathing. The Russians excelled in the use of coloured glass in their lighting. Thus the emerald glass in the stem of the chandelier created a play of light with the crystals, which blended well with the tones of the tapestries. The tablecloth was dark green and matched the colour of the rims of the plates and the count’s coat of arms. These arms, depicting a silver-headed bear on a fir-green background, appeared on the middle of every plate, were engraved on the crystal glasses and chased on the silver cutlery. Images detailing the construction of the chateau, stage by stage, were painted on to large porcelain vases, which alternated with three-legged crystal vases. Margont noticed that the bright light that evening was provided by a clever arrangement of mirrors and chandeliers, but, by extinguishing only a few candles, an intimate effect could be achieved.
The count and his wife took their seats at either end of the table. The count had placed Margont on his right and his daughter on his left. The countess had Fanselin on her right and Piquebois on her left. Saber was sitting between Fanselin and Natalia, and Lefine was opposite Saber. Margont appreciated the comfort of the chairs, which were quite unlike the Empire style, with its mixture of classical, Greco-Roman influences and military grandeur. How could the Emperor like those rigid geometrical lines and annoying edges that no plane was allowed to smooth? Still, even if that aesthetic showed scant regard for the functional, at least it did so with panache.
The count said grace and the meal began with an enormous plate of zakuski, that traditional assortment of appetisers and starters, including meat vol-au-vents, black bread canapes with multicoloured garnishes, croquettes, mother-of-pearl spoons filled with caviar …
‘I love Russian architecture,’ Saber announced to Natalia.
‘In that case, why are you shelling it?’
Saber was flabbergasted. He had not seriously imagined that anyone could resist his charm.
‘My dear Natalia,’ the count interjected in a paternalistic tone of voice, ‘you are giving an opinion on a subject that is beyond you.’
‘The Emperor’s policies are beyond us all,’ Margont remarked.
They are beyond even your Emperor, the countess thought.
Margont realised what was familiar about the count: he reminded him of Saber. It was those gestures full of ‘natural superiority’ that Saber strove awkwardly to imitate. Saber’s attitude made no sense. He had remarkable qualities as a strategist and was wasting his time learning the rules of polite society and trying to make an impression. Nature had given him a precious gift but he complained about the quality of its wrapping.
The zakuski were followed by red soup made with peppers and sour cream in the Ukrainian style. The count once more launched into the history of the Valiuski family. Unfortunately, this time he began with the battle of Tannenberg, or battle of Grunwald, which had taken place in 1410. It was after this that Ladislas II Jagiello, King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania, had rewarded the Valiuski family by ennobling it and giving it a bear as its coat of arms. The bear because those ‘grizzly peasants’ had carried out a massacre and had seized an enemy standard, that of Johann von Redern, the commander of Brathian and Neumarket. The banner was white and decorated with three stag horns joined at the base. The count was sorry not to be able to show it to his guests but it was hanging in one of his country houses near Moscow.
‘Then we’ll be seeing it soon,’ decreed Fanselin.
The count gave a detailed account of how the Teutonic Knights were crushed by the army of Ladislas II Jagiello. As it happened, in 1809 Napoleon had ordered the dissolution of this religious and military order and the count drew a host of other parallels between France and Poland, their common enemies and desires. His fervent wish for the restoration of Poland clouded his judgement: he sincerely believed that the futures of France and Poland were inextricably linked, a notion that history had categorically confirmed many times, in his opinion.
While Saber was dreaming of being a Polish count, the count was imagining himself living in a Greater Poland … Margont wondered, then, what he himself aspired to. Normally his immediate, idealistic response to such questions was the liberty of nations, an end to the slaughter, a stable peace in Europe, the spread of republican ideas … But that evening he was weary. All he wanted was to have a pleasant time. Noble aspirations are considerably diminished by hunger and tiredness.
Natalia was not listening to her father. In any case, she had heard him recount the battle of Tannenberg so often that she was beginning to wonder whether she’d actually taken part in it. Margont intrigued her. He seemed different from the men she had so far met. Her father had always given her orders. Her admirers, of whom there had been a considerable number in recent years, seemed equally authoritarian. They never bothered to listen to what she said to them and assumed she thought the same as they. And these were the best of her suitors, those who accepted the idea that women could have an opinion – although they should not express it. Things had come to a head at the beginning of the war. She had received a procession of officers in the palace: a captain from the hussars of the Guard, an elderly infantry colonel, a lieutenant from the Preobrajensky Regiment (above all, remember to congratulate him for being in the Guard, her mother had told her a hundred times), and a surprising number of aides-de-camp. In any case she thought it stupid that there should be so many of the latter. Since all the regiments hated one another and their officers sometimes went so far as refusing to speak to one another, what was the point of lining up so many messengers? In fact, she knew full well that nobles fought over the positions of aide-de-camp for the simple reason that they had less chance – relatively speaking – of being exposed to enemy fire.
All these visitors had behaved in an extraordinarily inept manner. Most of them had promised to bring her back a French flag topped with its eagle emblem. They thought this would please her but the idea horrified her. A piece of bloodstained material together with the certainty that its bearer, like its escort, had been exterminated and that the flagpole had been removed from their dead fingers: what a delightful present! Anyway, they already
