After a while, the solution came to him. He must leave her. To make her do so would necessitate his playing a horrid part, and it greatly distressed him to think that, to the end of her life, she would believe that he had not loved her enough to remain with her but had sent her off on her own in order that he might have a better chance of saving himself. But there seemed no alternative.
Kneeling down beside the now almost empty panniers, he looked through their few remaining stores. There were a few bits of mangled honeycomb, about a quarter of a pound of marzipan and half a bottle of the mule's blood mixed with brandy. Taking off his money belt he put it with the stores.
When he had shaken Mary until she came out of her semi-coma, he said, 'My love, I have come to a decision. This is the parting of the ways.5
'What… what do you mean?' she stammered.
'That we are reduced to such extremities that I mean to leave you.1
Her one eye opened wide with fright and through her cracked lips she whispered, 'Leave me! Oh, no, Roger, you can't mean that.5
'I do,' he replied in a firm, voice. 'We are still over seventy miles from Riga. For us to attempt to reach it together would be hopeless. We'd both be dead within the next few days. But if we separate there is still a good chance that we may both survive.
'No, Roger! she burst out, her face becoming panic-stricken. 'No! Please! Anything but that. I…'
'Mary, you must be sensible.5 He cut her short sharply, 'My life depends on this as well as yours. The town of Plavinas is down the river, only a few miles off. If I went into it wearing a French uniform, that would be the end of me. They would never believe that I am an Englishman. But there is no reason why they should harm you. I am going to give you half my money. That will easily enable you to get to Riga.5
'But, Roger… Roger, what about you?'
'There are plenty of villages along the river. I mean to break into a house each night and raid its larder. With luck, I'll also be able to steal some clothes.'
'Then I'll come with you. How can you ask me to go into that town, where there are warmth and food, while I know you still to be nearly starving and out in this freezing cold?'
'I am not asking you, Mary. I am telling you what you are going to do. To take you with me is out of the question. To be frank, you would be an embarrassment to me. I'd be worrying all the time that, if I were caught, you would be caught, too. I'll not risk having you tried as a thief and sent to a Russian prison.'
'But, darling, I just can't bear the thought of leaving you. I love you. I love you terribly.' Tears were running down Mary's cheeks and her face was the picture of misery.
Roger could hardly bear the sight of her distress. He was greatly tempted to give up his plan, take her in his arms and tell her that they would remain together. But he knew that would be fatal for them both. Anxious now only to be finished with playing his distasteful role, he decided to end matters, and said almost brutally:
'You say you love me. Very well then. Prove it by doing as I wish and give me a chance to save my life. I told you long ago that I was determined not to die in this damnable country.'
Choking on a sob, she remained silent for a moment, then said in a small voice, 'I see now that I was being selfish. Instead I should have thanked you for having borne with me all these weeks. If you had sent me into a town much earlier, you would by now be in Riga.'
Her pitiful surrender distressed him beyond measure, but he dared not show his feelings. With an effort he raised a smile, and replied hurriedly, 'That's better, Mary. Now, we have no time to lose. You must be in Plavinas before the light falls. While you were dozing I divided our things. I've put enough food in my pockets to keep me going for a day or two. You must take the rest. And here's my belt with half the money in it.'
With a word of thanks she took the belt, but added, 'I'll not need any food. You must keep it all.'
He shook his head. 'No. You must eat these bits of honeycomb and marzipan while you are on your way, to give you the strength for your long walk. I want you to take the mule's blood and brandy, too. There's just a chance that you might not reach the town before dark, and there is no moon now, so you could lose your way and have to spend the night in the open. You won't have the sleeping bag, but drinking this stuff will keep the life in you until morning.'
Submissively now, she agreed to do as he wished, stowed the things in her pockets and, a few minutes later, at his urging that she must make the most of the light, was ready to start. Tearfully, she looked at him and asked, 'Are you not coming with me for part of the way?'
'No,' he replied hoarsely. 'I did not sleep at all this morning, so I must get a good sleep this afternoon in order to be at my best for breaking into some farmhouse tonight.'
Now that the die was cast, he felt that he could afford to show his true feelings. Holding out his arms, he took her into them and said gently, 'Mary, my darling. Please don't think I am being altogether selfish about this. I do love you. For a long time now you have meant everything to me. But this is our only chance. Given a little luck, I'll get through, then in a month or so we'll be together again in England.'
She returned his kiss and murmured, 'I can only pray for that.' Then she suddenly broke away and added bitterly, 'But you don't love me as much as I love you, or you'd have let us die together.'
Turning her back, she stumbled away. He repressed his impulse to run after her; and, with an aching heart, watched her small figure until it was out of sight.
When she had disappeared down the slope, Roger did not get into the sleeping bag. Having resigned himself to death, he saw no point in prolonging his life, and the stomach cramps from, which he was suffering, for a few additional hours. But, as he lay down in the snow, he instinctively drew one end of the bag over his head, to save his lips and nose from, becoming frostbitten.
Now that he was lying still, his hunger pains eased and he was able to think more coherently. As there was no likelihood in the foreseeable future of his having been able to marry Georgina, and it was now out of his power to marry Mary, he decided that he did not greatly mind dying.
After all, he had had a wonderful life. He had met the majority of the most famous men of his time, travelled far and wide and, for many years past, had had more money than he needed. He had also been blessed more than most men in that many lovely women had found him very attractive. Amanda had been a sweet wife to him, and they had been happy until she had died in giving birth to Susan. Then there had been his dear Clarissa. What a tragedy that he had lost her when she was still so young. And Pauline. It was an intriguing thought that he might have married the sister of an Emperor. But Napoleon was really only a cardboard Emperor and, but for his remarkable achievements, Pauline would have remained only the little Corsican whore she was at heart. Yet nature had endowed her with the beauty of a fairytale Princess.
Other women drifted through his mind, not only ones he had loved, but his dear mother and young Susan. What a pity that his mother had not lived long enough to know Susan. She would have been so happy at having a charming granddaughter. What a pity, too, that until he returned from abroad as a grown man, he had so hated his stern and uncompromising father. Admiral Sir Chris, as King George used to call him, was really a very likeable sort of man. What a tragedy it was that so often young people and their parents failed to appreciate one another's good qualities, sometimes until it was too late.