Solomon's big wife Rachel went to work busily and Marianne found her attic provided with mattress, blankets, sheets and, most rapturous of all, a great bearskin rug. But she almost burst into tears of joy when Rachel and her little servant maid brought in a big washing copper and two huge jugs of hot water, with towels, rough but clean, and a bar of soap. In the twenty-eight days since leaving Moscow, she had not had her boots off once and her linen was the same that she had set out in. Never had she felt so dirty, and the smell that clung about her was a far cry from her favourite scent of tuberoses.
The sight of the copper full of steaming hot water filled her with such joy that she flung both arms round the old woman and kissed her impulsively.
'I'll bless you as long as I live for this, Madame Levin,' she said. 'You can't think what that bath means to me!'
'I think I can. Our house is not large or handsome, or even very comfortable, but we set great store by cleanliness, for that is the way of all those of our faith who would follow closely the law of Moses. Give me your clothes and those of your maid and I will see that they are washed.'
Up to that point, Rachel's reply had been made with great dignity, but there she broke off and added, smiling very shyly: 'I, too, shall remember you always, my lady, for I would never have believed that a European lady would ever do what you have just done. Had you forgotten that I belong to a despised race?'
The sudden sadness in the old woman's voice went to Marianne's heart. She went to her quickly and took both her hands in hers.
'To me, a stranger, you have been more than hospitable, you have been friendship itself and I always kiss my friends. Have you forgotten that I belong to a nation of invaders?' And she kissed Rachel again, never for a moment suspecting what was to come of those two kisses prompted by nothing more than gratitude and liking. Then Solomon's wife withdrew, telling Barbe that she might, if she wished, come down and wash herself in her kitchen. Marianne was left alone to the delights of her tub.
When Barbe returned, well-scrubbed, she brought a big tray with her. On it were a number of dishes: kasha, a thick buckwheat porridge, a kind of stew made with cabbage and blinis, little stubby pancakes eaten with sour cream. There was also a steaming pot of tea.
It was a long time since Marianne and Barbe had seen such a feast. They ate like the starving people they were, too intent on their food to utter a single word. Then, as though the act of eating had taken all their strength, they lay down on the mattresses and, heavy with food, fell into a deep sleep which, for Marianne at least, lasted until well into the following afternoon.
She woke to the contented realization that her long sleep had done her good. She had not felt such a sense of well-being for a long time because she had gone straight from a life of total seclusion indoors to an exhausting outdoor one. After another meal she felt full of energy again and equal to anything, a state of affairs which expressed itself in an acute impatience to continue her journey to France as soon as possible. Her brief sight of Smolensk, or what was left of it, had cured her of any wish to linger there, even in the warmth and simple friendliness of the Levins' house.
Beyle came again at nightfall, just as she was finishing dressing. She had found it a relief to put on the women's clothes that she had brought with her in her bundle.
Beyle had clearly not been enjoying the same measure of comfort as Marianne. He was pale and his face was puffy with fatigue and his nerves were so much on edge that it was evident he was deeply worried. He seemed quite offended to see Marianne looking so fresh and clean and rested. He himself was still almost as dirty and complained of a night tormented by fleas. After that, however, he ceased to dwell on his own sufferings and reverted to a subject which, although less personal, was equally on his mind.
'The convoy leaves again tomorrow,' he began without preamble. 'Do you want to go with it or not?'
'You know I do not. The pretence that I was your secretary ended here and I've no wish to face the prospect of several hundred leagues as the only woman, apart from Barbe, among a thousand or more men, all of them practically reverting to the condition of savages. Ask Barbe what she thinks of it. Even she will not do it.'
'This is silly and stupid! You know quite well that Mourier will look after you—'
'Oh, will he? And on what conditions? No, my friend, don't talk to me about chivalry and gallantry and such drawing-room niceties. They do not hold in a situation of this kind. Not to beat about the bush, I've no desire to be raped I don't know how often before we reach civilization. In any case, have you forgotten what you promised me in Moscow? You said that, once here, it would be easy for you to help me to continue my journey.'
Beyle literally exploded. 'How do you expect me to do that? You've seen what's left of the city on which we had all based such hopes! No garrison to speak of, no supplies, no communication with other cities, and a hostile population only waiting for the word to turn and rend us.'
"Well, you might have expected all that.'
'I might not! Smolensk was our main supply depot. Only it seems that since Marshal Victor left, all our reserves have mysteriously disappeared. As for the things I sent for from Mohilev and Vitebsk, scarcely any of it has arrived. And I was told nothing, nothing! They let me come here without saying a word. Poor Villeblanche almost died of fright when he got my letters and dared not tell me. But now, I must admit, I'm just as frightened and as desperate as he is. Do you know that in a fortnight from now we shall have something like a hundred thousand men descending on us and all we've got to feed them is a few quintals of flour, a little flour and buckwheat, a handful or so of hay and oats, a few dozen scrawny hens, a mountain of cabbages – oh yes, and casks and casks of brandy! How the devil do you expect me to find the time or means to do anything for you when I'm within an ace of going raving mad!'
'A hundred thousand men? What do you mean?'
He smiled bitterly. "That instead of the modest title I'd been looking forward to as the reward of my labours I'm likely to find myself wholly and irrevocably disgraced. The Emperor will never forgive me – or Count Dumas, either, or my cousin Daru. I'm finished, ruined utterly!'
'Oh, do stop moaning,' Marianne cried impatiently, 'and explain! Where are these hundred thousand men to come from?'
'With the Emperor! A courier arrived this afternoon, on foot because his horse had broken its neck on the ice coming down the valley. The Emperor is falling back on us.'
The gloom in his voice told how little he relished Napoleon's imminent arrival. Like a man getting a burden off his chest, he went on to pour out all his news in a rush. He said that on October 24th Prince Eugene had defeated General Dokhtourov's Russian troops at Malo-Yaroslavetz but it had been no more than a partial victory as a result of which Napoleon had learned that the Russian army was re-forming behind Dokhtourov in incalculable numbers. Aware of his own dwindling resources, he had decided to return to the main road and when the courier set out the French army's headquarters had been at Borovsk.
The Emperor's orders were precise. Everything was to be made ready at Smolensk to receive the hundred thousand or so men that remained with him, along with several thousand civilians who had left Moscow in his train.
'But that's not all,' Beyle went on tensely. 'The Emperor is expecting to find massive reinforcements awaiting him here – the 9th Corps, which has gone off to assist Gouvion St Cyr. The Marshal has been wounded and is no longer able to hold the line of the Dvina. And Oudinot's 2nd Corps, which included, among others, four stout Swiss regiments, has suffered heavy losses. Consequently Victor can't hurry back to Smolensk, not if he wants to continue to keep watch on the Vilna road, and without him it's by no means sure that Napoleon could withstand an all-out Russian attack if Kutuzov took it into his head to launch one…'