374 The Wife of the Polish Patriot. [ APRIL, 



I saw Captain Ladoinski thrown into the cart with her yester-even, and 

 neither he nor his companions are now to be found/' " Died of his 

 wounds/' said the first speaker, carelessly > " or was perhaps disposed of 

 by the wain-drivers, who had still enough French blood left, unfrozen 

 by this savage climate, not to lay their hands on a woman and such a 

 fair one too." The last words finished the work of resuscitation in the 

 hapless wife. Arrived at the cornet's quarters " My husband, my 

 husband !" she exclaimed, looking wildly round, yet still grasping her 

 boy, as if he were rendered dearer by the fear of other bereavement. 

 "Ye look like Frenchmen, and should be tender and pitiful to a 

 despairing woman !" The young officers protested their ignorance of 

 her husband's fate, and declared that the wain-drivers had disappeared 

 ere they commenced their search of the waggon, in which they had 

 found no living creature save herself and the child. There was a some- 

 thing in Aimee' s appearance and manner, which, combined with the 

 circumstance of her being the wife of an officer in the same service as 

 themselves, imposed a sort of respect on the Frenchmen. They were, 

 moreover, affected by her beauty, her singular situation, and deep dis- 

 tress ; and in order to institute an inquiry as to the fate of Ladoinski, 

 they succeeded in obtaining for their fair protegee an interview with 

 two of the most potential personages who conducted the celebrated 

 retreat from Moscow. Aimee had now spent two days of fear and 

 anguish at Smolensk, and she received, this news with grateful joy, not 

 unmingled with surprise. It was, however, at this period of affairs 

 generally seen, that the special protection of the Poles, in whose country 

 France could now alone hope for friendly shelter, was a necessary and 

 prime act of policy on the part of the French commanders. 



With a beating heart, and still holding her boy in her arms, the deli- 

 cate and timid, but morally courageous Aimee, was conducted to a 

 palace, the exterior of which was still black with recent conflagration, 

 and its once strong towers evidently nodding to a speedy downfal. Not 

 without ceremony Aimee was ushered into an apartment whose walls 

 were partially consumed at one end, while at the other it was occupied 

 by splendid, but disorderly and half-scorched furniture. In this apart- 

 ment two general officers were standing, engaged, as it seemed, in the 

 very undignified task of tearing from time to time some pieces of black 

 bread from a single loaf which lay on a bare table, and beside which 

 stood a flask of brandy, whose contents, as no cup or glass was visible, 

 could only have been obtained by a direct application of the lips of the 

 princely quafFers. One of these officers was considerably above the 

 middle stature, and, at first sight, presented an exterior striking, and 

 even noble; but on a minuter inspection, perhaps his face appeared 

 rather shewy than regularly handsome, and his mien and person more 

 dashing than dignified. Both his figure and countenance had evidently 

 experienced greater injury from recent fatigue and privation than their 

 owner was either willing to think himself, or acknowledge to others. 

 His dress was clearly still an object of attention, and was eminently cal- 

 culated to shew off to the best advantage the handsome and martial 

 form it enveloped. The second personage, though far from under- 

 sized, was somewhat below the stature of his companion, and possessed 

 a countenance comely, prepossessing, and of a milder expression than 

 that of his compeer in arms. He had not the decidedly military and 

 shewy bearing of his brother mareschal in whose countenance an air 



