IV
THE PICTURE AND THE STAR
The letter which gives Julia Robins the history of that Sunday--soeventful alike for France and for Sophy--is the last word of hers fromParis. Julia attached importance to it, perhaps for its romantic flavor,perhaps because she fancied that danger threatened her friend. At anyrate, she bestowed it with the care she gave to the later letters, anddid not expose it to the hazards which destroyed most of itspredecessors. It is dated from Marie Zerkovitch's apartment in the Ruedu Bac, and it ends: "I shall stay here, whatever happens--unlessCasimir tells me to meet him in Berlin!"
The rash comprehensiveness of "whatever happens" was not for times likethose, when neither man nor nation knew what fate an hour held; but forthree weeks more she abode with Marie Zerkovitch. Marie was muchdisturbed in her mind. Zerkovitch had begun to send her ominous lettersfrom the front--or as near thereto as he could get; the burden of themwas that things looked bad for the French, and that her hold on Parisshould be a loose one. He urged her to go home, where he would joinher--for a visit at all events, very likely to stay. Marie began to talkof going home in a week or so; but she lingered on for the sake of beingnearer the news of the war. So, amid the rumors of unreal victories andthe tidings of reverses only too real, if not yet great, the two womenwaited.
Casimir had found time and opportunity to send Sophy some half-dozennotes (assuming she preserved all she received). On the 5th of August,the eve of Worth, he wrote at somewhat greater length: "It is night. Iam off duty for an hour. I have been in the saddle full twelve hours,and I believe that, except the sentries and the outposts, I am the onlyman awake. We need to sleep. The Red Star, which shines everywhere forme, shines for all of us over our bivouac to-night. It must be that wefight to-morrow. Fritz is in front of us, and to-morrow he will come on.The Marshal must stop him and spoil his game; if we don't go forwardnow, we must go back. And we don't mean going back. It will be the firstbig clash--and a big one, I think, it will be. Our fellows are in fineheart (I wish their boots were as good!), but those devils overthere--well, they can fight, too, and Fritz can get every ounce out ofthem. I am thinking of glory and of you. Is it not one and the samething? For, in that hour, I didn't make you sure! I know it. Sophie, I'mhardly sorry for it. It seems sweet to have something left to do. Ah,but you're hard, aren't you? Shall I ever be sure of you? Even though Imarch into Berlin at the head of a regiment!
"I can say little more--the orderly waits for my letter. Yet I have somuch, much more to say. All comes back to me in vivid snatches. I amwith you in the old house--or by the _Calvaire_ (you remember?); oragain by the window; or while we walked back that Sunday night. I hearyour voice--the low, full-charged voice. I see your eyes; the star glowsanew for me. Adieu! I live for you always so long as I live. If I die,it will be in the thought of you, and they will kill no prouder man thanSophie's lover. To have won your love (ah, by to-morrow night, yes!) andto die for France--would it be ill done for a short life? By my faith,no! I'll make my bow to my ancestors without shame. 'I, too, have donemy part, messieurs!' say I, as I sit down with my forefathers. Sophie,adieu! You won't forget? I don't think you can quite forget. Yourpicture rides with me, your star shines ahead.
"CASIMIR."
* * * * *
He was not wrong. They fought next day. The letter is endorsed "8thAugust," presumably the date of its receipt. That day came also the newsof the disaster. On the 11th the casualty list revealed Casimir deSavres's name. A few lines from a brother officer a day later gavescanty details. In the great charge of French cavalry which marked theclosing stages of the battle he had been the first man hit of all hisregiment--shot through the heart--and through the picture of Sophy whichlay over his heart.
No word comes from Sophy herself. And Madame Zerkovitch is brief: "Sheshowed me the picture. The bullet passed exactly through where that markon her cheek is. It was fearful; I shuddered; I hoped she didn't see.She seemed quite stunned. But she insisted on coming with me toKravonia, where I had now determined to go at once. I did not want herto come. I thought no good would come of it. But what could I do? Shewould not return to England; she could not stay alone in Paris. I wasthe only friend she had in the world. She asked no more than to travelwith me. 'When once I am there, I can look after myself,' she said."
The pair--a little fragment of a great throng, escaping or thrustforth--left Paris together on the 13th or 14th of August, en route forKravonia. With Sophy went the bullet-pierced picture and the littlebundle of letters. She did not forget. With a sore wound in her heartshe turned to face a future dark, uncertain, empty of all she had loved.And--had she seen Marie Zerkovitch's shudder? Did she remember again, asshe had remembered by the _Calvaire_ at Fontainebleau, how Pharos hadsaid that what she loved died? She had bidden Casimir not fight thinkingof her. Thinking of her, he had fought and died. All she ever wroteabout her departure is one sentence--"I went to Kravonia in sheerdespair of the old life; I had to have something new."
Stricken she went forth from the stricken city, where hundreds of menwere cutting down the trees beneath whose shade she had often walked andridden with her lover.
PART III
KRAVONIA