In spite of all obstacles, Catharine
managed to cross over one of the bridges to the opposite
side of the Beresina, and then the poor child came
on with a detachment of the French army as far as Poland.
Many of her companions perished of exposure and want;
others were lost on the way; some lay down from sheer
exhaustion, or to try to sleep, and, ignorant of the
hour of march, on awaking found themselves in the power
of the enemy.
The sick and the wounded anxiously
looked around for some humane friend to help them,
but their cries were lost in the air. No one had
leisure to attend to his dearest friend self-preservation,
the first law of nature, absorbed every thought.
Under these distressing circumstances,
it so happened that the friendless little Russian
girl found herself quite alone, forsaken in the
midst of a large forest, where wolves and even
bears were frequently seen.
The poor child, half-dead with cold,
hunger, and fear, the snow nearly up to her knees,
saw ere long, to her intense horror, a savage bear
approaching; and Catharine, making a frantic effort
to escape, found her limbs so benumbed and her weakness
so great that she could not move.
The bear was coming nearer, preparing
to attack her, when Catharine, in mortal fright, uttered
a piercing scream, imploring help.
Thanks to a merciful Providence, at
the precise moment that the savage bear was preparing
to attack her, a shot was fired, and the bear fell
dead at the feet of the astonished child.
The stranger, when he came to the
spot where Catharine was still cowering, trembling
with fright, looked with an eye of pity on the lonely
little creature whose safety had been so wonderfully
entrusted to him.
He proved to be a Polish lord named
Barezewski, and taking some bread, cold meat, and
wine out of his hunting-pouch, he gave them to Catharine,
who soon felt better for the refreshment she so much
needed, and cheered by the unexpected kindness of
the gentleman, who now took her hand to lead her to
his castle, at some little distance.
The countess received the poor outcast
with much tenderness, and in a short time the young
Muscovite was able to relate all she knew of her interesting
and eventful history. The noble Pole and his lady
were moved to tears by Catharine’s recital of
her sufferings and the horrors she had witnessed on
the road; but, thanks to their compassionate sympathy
and kindness, she soon ceased to think of what she
had undergone, and was capable of appreciating the
comforts and blessings now surrounding her.
Several years passed, bringing no
intelligence of Catharine’s parents; meanwhile,
she grew in wisdom and in loveliness of mind and person,
and no expense was spared to make her an elegant and
accomplished young lady. She had attained her
sixteenth year when an important event took place.
On the anniversary of the Russian
child’s wonderful and providential deliverance
from a frightful death, it was customary each year
to have a grand feast at the Castle, when the gentle
and beloved Catharine Somoff would relate anew her
thrilling history, and review the kindness shown her
by her generous protectors, who looked upon her in
every respect as their own child.
The season had come round once again,
and she was in the middle of her tale, when a gun
was heard at a short distance from the Castle.
The weather was very stormy; the wind blew violently,
the snow fell in large flakes, darkening the sky;
it was almost impossible to see a yard before one.
’Doubtless it is some lost traveller
imploring assistance, or perhaps being attacked by
wild beasts, so numerous in the forest. It is
impossible to be hunting or shooting merely for pleasure
in this dreadful weather,’ exclaimed Count Barezewski,
giving orders for his men to provide torches and other
needful apparatus, and come with him to find out what
was amiss. They set off in the direction of the
forest whence the report of the gun had proceeded the
identical spot where Catharine Somoff had been threatened
by the bear some years ago. Great anxiety was
felt at the Castle during the hour that passed before
the brave Barezewski appeared, followed by his men,
who bore the body of a bleeding Russian on a litter.
Catharine hastened to look at her
fellow-countryman, and then expressed a wish to dress
his wound. The stranger was soon restored to
consciousness by the humane attentions of his hosts,
and able to express his gratitude, as well as mention
a few particulars of his adventures on this wintry
day.
He said: ’I am a Muscovite
merchant on my way to Warsaw. Before leaving
this part, I wished to go and see a friend living at
some little distance. I took my gun, and walked
to his castle, where I was belated. The snow
fell in large flakes; I lost my path. In vain
I sought the proper road, when, noticing two men coming
in my direction, I hastened to ask them to put me
in the right way. I did not mistrust them the
least in the world, and was patiently awaiting their
reply, when suddenly both these rascals rushed upon
me, throwing me to the ground, and robbed me of the
small sum of money I had in my purse. I uttered
a cry; then one of them, evidently intending to kill
me, pointed his gun at my heart, and fired.’
All this time Catharine had kept her
eyes intently fixed upon the stranger’s countenance;
she seemed to recall some well-known features, without
being able to remember where she had seen them.
Her heart beat violently, and her interest in the
new-comer became greater every moment; indeed, her
feelings appeared to be excited in an unaccountable
manner. Count Barezewski begged his guest to give
him a few details of the terrible fire at Moscow,
which had caused so much misery and distress to both
Russians and French. The Russian seemed to feel
a very great disinclination to comply with his host’s
request; however, when he reflected upon the hospitality
and kindness he was receiving, he knew not how to
refuse. His voice betrayed excessive emotion as
he described the sad sight of this immense conflagration;
but as soon as he came to his own private misfortunes,
he burst into tears, and with a deep-drawn sigh exclaimed:
’Alas! this awful fire not only
deprived us of a great part of our fortune, but, far
worse, of her who formed our chief joy, our cherished
daughter. Amid the frightful panic that prevailed,
whilst my wife and I endeavoured to save some of our
most valuable effects from the rage of the devouring
element, we lost our only child, then in her seventh
year. Her nurse had taken her for safety to a
house situated in a by-street occupied by a friend
of ours, where the fire had not yet reached; but both
the child and the nurse disappeared, and since this
melancholy catastrophe all our numerous and anxious
inquiries respecting them have proved utterly fruitless.
Probably they were killed by a falling edifice, and
so buried in its ruins; at least, this is my opinion,
for my dear wife still has the hope of again beholding
our long-lost but dearly cherished child.’
Catharine, who had listened with the
most heartfelt interest to this touching recital,
could not restrain her emotions any longer. She
threw herself on the stranger’s neck, exclaiming,
‘My father, my dear father!’
It was a most affecting moment.
We will not attempt to depict the joy and the thankfulness
that filled the hearts of both parent and child.
Let our young readers try to imagine themselves in
Catharine’s situation, or else in her father’s;
then only can they enter into the real sentiments
that overpowered them both. How pleasure and pain
are intermingled in this life!
Catharine’s delight at being
re-united to her dear father was undoubtedly great,
but sorrow at the prospect of leaving friends like
the Count and Countess proved a trial to the affectionate
and grateful girl.
’Then happy those, since
each must draw
His share of pleasure, share of pain;
Then happy those, belov’d of Heaven,
To whom the mingled cup is given,
Whose lenient sorrows find relief,
Whose joys are chastened by their grief.’