For battles and revolutions and historical events of any sort are
the jagged instruments with which Fate rough-hews our lives, leaving
us to shape them as we will. In other days, no doubt, men rough-
hewed, while Fate shaped. But as civilization advances men will wax
so tender, so careful of the individual, that they will never cut
and slash, but move softly, very tolerant, very easy-going, seeking
the compromise that brings peace and breeds a small and timid race
of men.
Into such lives Fate comes crashing like a woodman with his axe,
leaving us to smooth the edges of the gaping wound and smile, and
say that we are not hurt; to pare away the knots and broken stumps;
and hope that our neighbour, concealing such himself, will have the
decency to pretend not to see.
Thus the battle of Borodino crashed into the lives of Desiree and
Mathilde, and their father, living quietly on the sunny side of the
Frauengasse in Dantzig. Antoine Sebastian was the first to hear the
news. He had, it seemed, special facilities for learning news at
the Weissen Ross'l, whither he went again now in the evening.
"There has been a great battle," he said, with so much more than his
usual self-restraint that Desiree and Mathilde exchanged a glance of
anxiety. "A man coming this evening from Dirschau saw and spoke
with the Imperial couriers on their way to Berlin and Paris. It was
a great victory, quite near to Moscow. But the loss on both sides
has been terrible.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126