'Nothing for the moment. The first thing is to reach Smolensk. After that, we shall see.'
To reach Smolensk! That had become the unbearable refrain. None of them could ever have dreamed that it could be so far. It seemed to be drawing away from them as they went on, like places in nightmares. Some were even beginning to murmur that they must have taken the wrong road and would never get there. And so it was with a mixture of surprise and incredulity that, on the evening of the second of November, they heard the news that was flying down the convoy.
'We are there! There is Smolensk!'
The army had been there before and the men recognized the place with delight, Beyle most of all.
'Yes,' he said, with a deep sigh of relief, 'there is Smolensk. And not before time!'
They had come to the edge of a deep valley with the quicksilver gleam of the River Dnieper flowing through it and the town was before them. It stood dreaming within its circle of high walls on the right bank of the river, amid a landscape of wooded ravines, firs, pines and birches standing out starkly against the fresh snow. That great fortress town with its thirty-eight towers and great smooth walls which for three hundred years had defied all that time and men could do would have presented a picture both archaic and beautiful, but for the fresh scars of war that were so clearly visible in the form of trees felled and burned by gunfire, ruined and fire-blackened houses there had not been time enough yet to rebuild, and a temporary bridge made of logs. Of the outlying suburbs practically nothing remained.
Above the walls, they could see the domes of the churches and smoking chimneys, waking thoughts of evening meals in well-warmed rooms. A bell began to ring and was followed by the clarion call of a trumpet and a roll of drums, indicating the presence of troops behind those antique walls that gave the place such a secretive air.
The city had such an air of reassurance and refuge that a great shout of joy went up simultaneously from every throat capable of uttering. At last they would be able to rest, eat, warm themselves and sleep under a roof again. It was almost unbelievable.
Beyle, however, only shrugged and muttered: 'Like the crusaders arriving before Jerusalem, isn't it? You can't see from here, because the walls are too high, but half the town is gone. All the same, I daresay we shall all find a lodging – and I hope to see the results of all that frenzied letter-writing I did in Moscow.'
He was making an effort to seem unconcerned but his dark eyes were shining with happiness and Marianne could tell that he was just as excited as the rest of them, for all his supercilious airs.
They covered the distance to the city gates in record time in spite of the snow and the difficulties encountered by the horses – which no one had thought to shoe for icy conditions – on the steep sides of the valley. Moreover they had been seen by the watch inside the city and men came running out with welcoming cries to help to lead the wagons in.
As they passed through the great gate bearing the arms of the city, a cannon supporting the mythical bird Gamayun, symbol of power, Marianne, despite her weariness, could not help smiling at her companion.
'You may think what you like, but I am just like all the others – very happy to be here. I hope you're going to provide me with something other than raw, frosted potatoes for my dinner?'
She was not the only one to be dreaming of food. All round them, the soldiers were talking of nothing but the good meal they were going to have and their entry into Smolensk was as gay as if they were going to a fair. But their gaiety and the eagerness subsided a little once they were inside the gates and could see the damage that had been hidden before. The snow threw a merciful covering over the ruins but it could not hide the tragic gaps in the streets as the tapers were lit behind the squares of waxed paper that replaced shattered window panes.
As the convoy made its way along the street, people came out from such houses as were still standing and stood in groups on both sides of the road, watching the new arrivals silently. They were all like so many bundles of shawls and old rags, except for their eyes, which glittered with a hostile light, and now and then there came from them a murmur that had nothing friendly in it. All Marianne's happiness fell away from her. Here, even more than in Moscow, she felt that she was in enemy territory.
Mourier had paused by the gate to exchange a word with a captain of carabiniers, but now he rejoined them, looking worried.
'It seems that our three hundred men are a welcome addition. I was thinking we'd find Marshal Victor's 9th Corps here, but there's only a remnant of them left. The Marshal's gone off with the bulk of his force to Polotsk, where Gouvion St Cyr is said to be in difficulties. Even the governor has gone.'
'Who is it?' Beyle asked.
'General Baraguey d'Illiers. He ought to be here with the Illyrian Division which should have left Danzig on the first of August. He's gone to take up a position on the Yelnia road, leaving Smolensk to General Charpentier, chief of staff to the 4th Corps and before that governor of Vitebsk. I'm wondering what we are going to find here with so slender a garrison and all this chopping and changing in the command.'
Beyle, listening, was growing visibly gloomier, evidently worrying about his famous supplies. When they came out into a square, he suddenly left his companions and darted towards a private house, from the doorway of which two figures had just emerged. They proved to be the temporary Governor of Smolensk in person and, with him, none other than the Intendant of the province, Monsieur de Villeblanche, with whom Beyle promptly entered into a brief and clearly acrimonious dialogue. By the time he came back to Marianne, the unhappy director of Reserve Supplies was in something approaching a state of collapse.
'This is appalling! They haven't got a quarter of what I asked for! I hope to God the Emperor doesn't show up here or I'm a ruined man! Come on, we can't stay here. This is where we leave the convoy and rejoin the Supply Corps. I must see for myself. We'll easily find a lodging here somewhere.'
In fact, it was less easy than he imagined because, although the Quartermaster's staff had managed to acquire an undamaged house for their own use, this was already so full that they could offer the director of Reserve Supplies nothing more than a mattress squeezed into a small room already occupied by two of his colleagues. There could be no question of Marianne's inclusion in this offer, much less Barbe, whose ample dimensions required no less ample space to house them. They would have to find somewhere else.
Beyle deposited what remained of his baggage and then set out with one of the young men on the staff in search of a lodging for his 'secretary' and his cook.
They found one, in the end, in the house of an elderly German Jew, not far from the New Market. It was little more than an attic, but provided with a stove which made it seem to the two women the very height of comfort. In order to move in there with Barbe, Marianne was obliged to reveal herself as a woman but this scarcely signified since she was leaving the military convoy and the usefulness of her disguise was at an end. Nor did she have cause to regret discarding it. Solomon Levin and his wife Rachel were good souls and full of compassion for the girl's white face and pinched cheeks. They were tactful, too, and neither showed any surprise at her unusual garb. Concluding that questions would be out of place, they asked none, merely assuring the gentleman that he might go about his business with an easy mind for the ladies would be safe with them. Good relations, moreover, were very quickly established when it emerged that Marianne's German was as fluent as their own. Satisfied as to his friends' welfare, Beyle left them, promising to return next morning.
Solomon Levin, as a trader in furs and other such essential commodities as dried herring, was on terms with the invader which, if not precisely cordial, were at least very correct and had therefore been permitted to pursue his business in a city where most things had come to a standstill. Which is to say that no one in his house was actually starving.