‘You’ll be given appropriate treatment,’ he said, before putting the envelope in his pocket and walking out of the barn.
Shortly afterwards an adjutant of the marshal’s by the name of Monsieur de Castrés came in and escorted Balashev to the quarters that had been prepared for him.
That day he took dinner in the barn with the marshal at the same ‘table’ on the tubs.
Next day Davout went off early in the morning, but before doing so he sent for Balashev, and told him in no uncertain terms that he wanted him to stay there, to go on with the baggage-train if ordered to do so, and to talk to nobody but Monsieur de Castrés.
After four tedious days of solitary confinement, with a strong sense of impotence and insignificance all the more agonizing because he had been so recently at the centre of power, and after several relocations along with the marshal’s baggage and the French troops, who by now had taken the whole district, Balashev was brought back to French-occupied Vilna, and he re-entered the town by the same gate he had ridden out through four days before.
Next day one of the Emperor’s gentlemen-in-waiting, Count Turenne, came to Balashev and told him the Emperor Napoleon was disposed to grant him an audience.
Four days before, sentries of the Preobrazhensky regiment had stood guard in front of the very house to which Balashev was now conducted, and this time two French grenadiers stood there, in their fur caps and blue uniforms open down the front, along with an escort of hussars and uhlans, and a brilliant entourage of adjutants, pages and generals, all waiting for Napoleon to come out, gathered together at the bottom of the steps round his saddle-horse and his Egyptian bodyguard, Rustan. Napoleon was to receive Balashev in the very house in Vilna from which Alexander had sent him on his way.
CHAPTER 6
Balashev, no stranger to imperial pomp, was astounded by the luxury and splendour of Napoleon’s court.
Count Turenne led him into a large reception-room, where a number of generals, gentlemen-in-waiting and Polish magnates were waiting patiently, many of them people Balashev had seen at the court of the Russian Emperor. Duroc told him the Emperor Napoleon would receive the Russian general before going out for his ride.
Balashev was kept waiting for a few minutes before a gentleman-in-waiting came into the great room, bowed politely and walked off again, inviting him to follow.
Balashev went through into the small reception-room with only one other door, leading into the study, the room where the Russian Emperor had given him his orders and dispatched him. He stood there alone for a couple of minutes waiting. There was a rush of footsteps on the other side of the door, both halves of which were then flung open by a gentleman-in-waiting who came to a halt and stood there respectfully in attendance. In the ensuing silence someone else could be heard moving about in the study with a firm and resolute tread – Napoleon. He had just finished dressing for his ride and was wearing a blue uniform, open over a white waistcoat which covered his round belly, high boots and white doeskin breeches, stretched tightly over fat thighs and stumpy legs. His short hair looked as if it had just been brushed, but one lock had been left curling down in the middle of his broad forehead. His plump white neck stood out sharply against the black collar of his uniform. He smelt of eau-de-cologne. His full, young-looking face with its prominent chin shone with the graciousness of a monarch welcoming a visitor with regal splendour.
He emerged from the study at a quick pace, wobbling as he walked, with his head tilted slightly back. The whole of his tubby, dumpy figure, with his broad, fat shoulders and his chest and belly sticking out whether he liked it or not, had the impressive stateliness of a forty-year-old used to his creature comforts. It was also obvious that today he was in a particularly good mood.
He nodded in acknowledgement of Balashev’s deep, deferential bow, walked over to him and started talking immediately like a man who values every moment of his time, and does not stoop to preparing anything in advance because he is confident of always speaking well and saying just what needs to be said.
‘Good day to you, General!’ he said. ‘I have received the Emperor Alexander’s letter brought by you, and I am very pleased to see you.’ His large eyes took one glance at Balashev’s face, and then he immediately looked straight past him.
It was obvious that Balashev’s personality was of no interest to him. Clearly, the only thing that held any interest for him was anything going on in
