The Retreat Read Online Free PDF

lined with bear fur, was clasping in his arms a ham, a big vase, a pair of silver chandeliers and a jar of crystallized fruit; the jar slipped from his unsteady grasp and shattered on the ground, the soldier skidded on the crystallized fruit and went sprawling; some grenadiers instantly grabbed the ham and ran off amid a hail of abuse.
    The captain wasn’t in a position to put a stop to these unruly removals operations – in fact, he rather fancied a piece of them himself. As he was smiling at the thought, the major-domo asked very anxiously, ‘You are going to protect our house, aren’t you?’
    â€˜You mean
my
quarters, I trust?’
    â€˜Exactly, your and your men’s residence.’
    â€˜Very well, but first we’ll go over it from top to bottom.’ Turning to the sergeant, he ordered, ‘Post sentries at the gates.’
    â€˜That won’t be easy.’ He gestured to the dragoons already scattered about the neighbourhood; a chain of them were passing tables, armchairs and bottles out of the windows of a little pale-green pine lodge.
    â€˜What now?’ exclaimed the captain, his sabre hanging by its sword knot from his left wrist.
    Shadow like figures with wild hair and beards and rags flapping at their legs were coming onto the avenue; they were carrying pitchforks. D’Herbigny turned towards themajor-domo, who was wringing his hands. ‘And they are, in your opinion?’
    â€˜Yes …’
    â€˜Convicts? Madmen?’
    â€˜Something of both.’
    *
    In the streets of Moscow, Sebastian Roque had already encountered similar mobs, which the gendarmes had broken up with musket butts, but when his barouche entered a narrower thoroughfare, a moujik with a bristling black beard, long locks and glaring eyes, ran up and violently grabbed his arm. Masquelet and the other passengers tried to make the brute let go by hitting him on the head, but the gendarmes had to beat him almost senseless before he toppled over backwards, blood matting his hair. He got to his feet instantly, leaping at the horses as the coachmen whipped them; the horses knocked him back down, he rolled under the barouche; they heard his bellows, bones cracking; the carriage jolted heavily. Huddled together on the ground, packs of vagabonds considered this spectacle impassively, a look of dazed stupor on their faces. They were a frightening sight, these savage-looking moujiks, but as well as finding their freedom, they had also discovered sizeable stores of brandy and it had sapped them of all their strength. They didn’t even move as their maimed comrade writhed on the cobbles. Sebastian was as white as a Pierrot, he felt hot and cold, he looked at the ground, his teeth chattered and he rubbed his aching arm.
    â€˜A genuine cannibal, your attacker,’ joked the chef. ‘He’d have gladly devoured your whole arm!’
    â€˜They’re bears, not humans,’ the major-domo pronounced with a learned air, a single finger raised.
    What seemed a banal, everyday event to the other servants terrified the young man. From the moment Baron Fain had given him a mission, and he had had to leave the Imperial entourage, he mistrusted everything. Danger prowled around armies. Die young? What sort of glory was it that did not allow one to enjoy its benefits? The Opera – ah, now that was brilliant, and if he had had a voice … Dash it! Sebastian wanted to experience the seasons of his life consecutively; youth he saw as a winter, he was hoping for spring, when, with age, one’s energies could be deployed. Heroism held little fascination for him: in any case, where were the heroes? The officers thought only of their promotion; the men hadn’t come to Russia of their own accord, many had joined up simply to eat. In France, wheat was becoming scarce and the poor were given rice thrown into water-gruel, which satisfied no one. Robbery was on the increase. Unemployed labourers