it, general? It’s curious, isn’t it?” saidthe prince, delighted to be able to open up conversation upon an outsidesubject.
“Curious enough, yes, but crude, and of course dreadful nonsense;probably the man lies in every other sentence.”
The general spoke with considerable confidence, and dragged his wordsout with a conceited drawl.
“Oh, but it’s only the simple tale of an old soldier who saw the Frenchenter Moscow. Some of his remarks were wonderfully interesting. Remarksof an eye-witness are always valuable, whoever he be, don’t you think so?”
“Had I been the publisher I should not have printed it. As to theevidence of eye-witnesses, in these days people prefer impudent lies tothe stories of men of worth and long service. I know of some notes ofthe year 1812, which--I have determined, prince, to leave this house,Mr. Lebedeff’s house.”
The general looked significantly at his host.
“Of course you have your own lodging at Pavlofsk at--at your daughter’shouse,” began the prince, quite at a loss what to say. He suddenlyrecollected that the general had come for advice on a most importantmatter, affecting his destiny.
“At my wife’s; in other words, at my own place, my daughter’s house.”
“I beg your pardon, I--”
“I leave Lebedeff’s house, my dear prince, because I have quarrelledwith this person. I broke with him last night, and am very sorry that Idid not do so before. I expect respect, prince, even from those to whomI give my heart, so to speak. Prince, I have often given away my heart,and am nearly always deceived. This person was quite unworthy of thegift.”
“There is much that might be improved in him,” said the prince,moderately, “but he has some qualities which--though amid them onecannot but discern a cunning nature--reveal what is often a divertingintellect.”
The prince’s tone was so natural and respectful that the general couldnot possibly suspect him of any insincerity.
“Oh, that he possesses good traits, I was the first to show, when I verynearly made him a present of my friendship. I am not dependent upon hishospitality, and upon his house; I have my own family. I do not attemptto justify my own weakness. I have drunk with this man, and perhaps Ideplore the fact now, but I did not take him up for the sake of drinkalone (excuse the crudeness of the expression, prince); I did not makefriends with him for that alone. I was attracted by his good qualities;but when the fellow declares that he was a child in 1812, and had hisleft leg cut off, and buried in the Vagarkoff cemetery, in Moscow,such a cock-and-bull story amounts to disrespect, my dear sir, to--toimpudent exaggeration.”
“Oh, he was very likely joking; he said it for fun.”
“I quite understand you. You mean that an innocent lie for the sake of agood joke is harmless, and does not offend the human heart. Some peoplelie, if you like to put it so, out of pure friendship, in order to amusetheir fellows; but when a man makes use of extravagance in order to showhis disrespect and to make clear how the intimacy bores him, it is timefor a man of honour to break off the said intimacy, and to teach theoffender his place.”
The general flushed with indignation as he spoke.
“Oh, but Lebedeff cannot have been in Moscow in 1812. He is much tooyoung; it is all nonsense.”
“Very well, but even if we admit that he _was_ alive in 1812, can onebelieve that a French chasseur pointed a cannon at him for a lark, andshot his left leg off? He says he picked his own leg up and took it awayand buried it in the cemetery. He swore he had a stone put up overit with the inscription: ‘Here lies the leg of Collegiate SecretaryLebedeff,’ and on the other side, ‘Rest, beloved ashes, till the morn ofjoy,’ and that he has a service read over it every year (which is simplysacrilege), and goes to Moscow once a year on purpose. He invites me toMoscow in order to prove his assertion, and show me his leg’s tomb, andthe very cannon that shot him; he says it’s the eleventh from thegate of the Kremlin, an old-fashioned falconet taken from the Frenchafterwards.”
“And, meanwhile both his legs are still on his body,” said the prince,laughing. “I assure you, it is only an innocent joke, and you need notbe angry about it.”
“Excuse me--wait a minute--he says that the leg we see is a wooden one,made by Tchernosvitoff.”
“They do say one can dance with those!”
“Quite so, quite so; and he swears that his wife never found out thatone of his legs was wooden all the while they were married. When Ishowed him the ridiculousness of all this, he said, ‘Well, if you wereone of Napoleon’s pages in 1812, you might let me bury my leg in theMoscow cemetery.’ ”
“Why, did you say--” began the prince, and paused in confusion.
The general gazed at his host disdainfully.
“Oh, go on,” he said, “finish your sentence, by all means. Say how oddit appears to you that a man fallen to such a depth of humiliation asI, can ever have been the actual eye-witness of great events. Go on, _I_don’t mind! Has _he_ found time to tell you scandal about me?”
“No, I’ve heard nothing of this from Lebedeff, if you mean Lebedeff.”
“H’m; I thought differently. You see, we were talking over this periodof history. I was criticizing a current report of something which thenhappened, and having been myself an eye-witness of the occurrence--youare smiling, prince--you are looking at my face as if--”
“Oh no! not at all--I--”
“I am rather young-looking, I know; but I am actually older than Iappear to be. I was ten or eleven in the year 1812. I don’t know my ageexactly, but it has always been a weakness of mine to make it out lessthan it really is.”
“I assure you, general, I do not in the least doubt your statement. Oneof our living autobiographers states that when he was a small baby inMoscow in 1812 the French soldiers fed him with bread.”
“Well, there you see!” said the general, condescendingly. “There isnothing whatever unusual about my tale. Truth very often appears tobe impossible. I was a page--it sounds strange, I dare say. Had I beenfifteen years old I should probably have been terribly frightenedwhen the French arrived, as my mother was (who had been too slow aboutclearing out of Moscow); but as I was only just ten I was not in theleast alarmed, and rushed through the crowd to the very door of thepalace when Napoleon alighted from his horse.”
“Undoubtedly, at ten years old you would not have felt the sense offear, as you say,” blurted out the prince, horribly uncomfortable in thesensation that he was just about to blush.
“Of course; and it all happened so easily and naturally. And yet, werea novelist to describe the episode, he would put in all kinds ofimpossible and incredible details.”
“Oh,” cried the prince, “I have often thought that! Why, I know of amurder, for the sake of a watch. It’s in all the papers now. But ifsome writer had invented it, all the critics would have jumped down histhroat and said the thing was too improbable for anything. And yet youread it in the paper, and you can’t help thinking that out of thesestrange disclosures is to be gained the full knowledge of Russian lifeand character. You said that well, general; it is so true,” concludedthe prince, warmly, delighted to have found a refuge from the fieryblushes which had covered his face.
“Yes, it’s quite true, isn’t it?” cried the general, his eyes sparklingwith gratification. “A small boy, a child, would naturally realize nodanger; he would shove his way through the crowds to see the shine andglitter of the uniforms, and especially the great man of whom everyonewas speaking, for at that time all the world had been talking of no onebut this man for some years past. The world was full of his name; I--soto speak--drew it in with my mother’s milk. Napoleon, passing a coupleof paces from me, caught sight of me accidentally. I was very welldressed, and being all alone, in that crowd, as you will easilyimagine...”
“Oh, of course! Naturally the sight impressed him, and proved to himthat not _all_ the aristocracy had left Moscow; that at least some noblesand their children had remained behind.”
“Just so! just so! He wanted to win
over the aristocracy! When his eagleeye fell on me, mine probably flashed back in response. ‘_Voilà un garçonbien éveillé! Qui est ton père?_’ I immediately replied, almost pantingwith excitement, ‘A general, who died on the battle-fields of his country!’‘_Le fils d’un boyard et d’un brave, pardessus le marché. J’aimeles boyards. M’aimes-tu, petit?_’
“To this keen question I replied as keenly, ‘The Russian heart canrecognize a great man even in the bitter enemy of his country.’ Atleast, I don’t remember the exact words, you know, but the idea wasas I say. Napoleon was struck; he thought a minute and then said tohis suite: ‘I like that boy’s pride; if all Russians think like thischild, then--’ he didn’t finish, but went on and entered the palace.I instantly mixed with his suite, and followed him. I was already inhigh favour. I remember when he came into the first hall, the emperorstopped before a portrait of the Empress Katherine, and after athoughtful glance remarked, ‘That was a great woman,’ and passed on.
“Well, in a couple of days I was known all over the palace and theKremlin as ‘le petit boyard.’ I only went home