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"This then is the secret of our Emperor's representative's escape from arrest. He and all his official household got out of France all right as history records. "And amongst that household there was our Tomassov of course. He had, in the words of the French officer, the soul of a warrior.
So we were only too ready to listen to the tales of France from our comrade Tomassov. He had been attached to our mission in Paris the year before the war. High protections very likely or maybe sheer luck. "I don't think he could have been a very useful member of the mission because of his youth and complete inexperience. And apparently all his time in Paris was his own.
That multitude of resurrected bodies with glassy eyes was seething round his horse as if blind, growling crazily. He was sitting erect in his saddle, not looking down at them and sheathing his sword deliberately. "This Tomassov, well, he had a beard. Of course we all had beards then. Circumstances, lack of leisure, want of razors, too.
He moved back a bit and in his self-possessed voice of a man of the world, as though he were speaking across a card table or something of the sort, he called Tomassov's attention to the fact that if he meant to make use of the warning the moments were precious. "'Indeed they are, agreed the awed Tomassov. 'Good-bye then.
I have no word of thanks to equal your generosity; but if ever I have an opportunity, I swear it, you may command my life.... "But the Frenchman retreated, had already vanished in the dark lonely street. Tomassov was alone, and then he did not waste any of the precious minutes of that night. "See how people's mere gossip and idle talk pass into history.
"The prisoner sat between us like an awful gashed mummy as to the face, a martial scarecrow, a grotesque horror of rags and dirt, with awful living eyes, full of vitality, full of unquenchable fire, in a body of horrible affliction, a skeleton at the feast of glory. And suddenly those shining unextinguishable eyes of his became fixed upon Tomassov.
"Another long pause ensued before, with a great effort, he whispered hoarsely: 'Isn't this enough to move a heart of stone? Am I to go on my knees to you? "Again a deep silence fell upon the three of us. Then the French officer flung his last word of anger at Tomassov. "'Milksop! "Not a feature of the poor fellow moved.
The Frenchman's eyes, fixed in a glassy stare, which for a moment made us hope that he had died quietly sitting there between us two, stirred slowly to right and left, looking at each of our faces in turn. Tomassov and I exchanged glances of dismay. Then De Castel's voice, unexpected in its renewed strength and ghastly self-possession, made us shudder inwardly. "'Bonjour, Messieurs.
He followed the French officer out of the room and out of the house; for he had a notion that this was expected of him. "It was getting dusk, the weather was very bad, and the street was quite deserted. The Frenchman lingered in it strangely. And Tomassov lingered, too, without impatience. He was never in a hurry to get away from the house in which she lived.
That adjutant of ours was not a very delicate fellow. 'Look at those lover's lips, he would exclaim in a loud tone while Tomassov was talking. "Tomassov didn't quite like that sort of thing.
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