The Marquise of O–

In M—, an important town in Northern
Italy, the widowed Marquise of O—, a woman of
impeccable reputation and mother of well-broughtup
children, made it known through the newspapers
that she had inexplicably found herself in a certain
condition, that the father of the child she would bear
should make himself known, and that out of regard
for her family she was resolved to marry him. The
woman who under the pressure of irremediable circumstances
took such a strange step, risking universal
derision with such fortitude, was the daughter of
Colonel G—, Commandant of the citadel outside
M—. Some three years before, she had lost her
husband, to whom she had been most ardently and
tenderly devoted, during a journey he had made on
family business to Paris. At the behest of her excellent
mother, the Marquise had, after her husband’s death,
left her house in the country where she had lived
outside V—, and returned with both her children to
her father in the Commandant’s house. The following
years she spent in deep seclusion, devoted to the care
of her parents and the pursuit of art, literature and
the education of her children, until the — War filled
the surrounding region with the soldiers of almost
all the European powers, even Russians. Ordered to
defend the citadel, the Commandant urged his wife
and daughter to withdraw either to the Marquise’s
country house or to his son’s, near V—. However,
before the women could weigh up the choice between
the danger of remaining and the horror of what
they might be subjected to in open country, the
citadel was overrun by Russian troops and called
upon to surrender. The Commandant told his family
that from now on he would act as if they were not
there, and responded with bullets and grenades. The
enemy in turn bombarded the citadel, set fire to the
magazine and captured an outwork; and when the
Commandant, once more challenged to surrender,
hesitated to do so, orders were given for a night attack
and the fortress was captured by storm.
Just as the Russian troops, covered by heavy siege
artillery, forced their way into the Commandant’s
house, its left wing caught fire and the women were
forced to leave. His wife, hurrying after their daughter,
who had gone down the steps with her children,
shouted that they should keep together and take
shelter in the lower vaults, but a grenade exploding
on the house at that precise moment caused total
confusion inside. The Marquise came with her two
children to the forecourt of the castle where the shooting,
now at its heaviest, was already lighting up the
night, forcing her, out of her mind where she should
turn next, back into the burning building. Here she
was unfortunate enough to meet a band of hostile
riflemen just as she was intending to slip out by the
back door. At the sight of her they suddenly fell silent,
slung their weapons over their shoulders and took
her with them while making the most abominable
gestures. Tugged and pulled this way and that by
the terrifying pack fighting among themselves, the
Marquise vainly shouted for help to her trembling
women servants, who were escaping through the door.
She was dragged into the rear courtyard of the castle
where, subject to the most shameful mishandling, she
was about to sink to the ground when, at the sound
of her screams for help, a Russian officer appeared
and with angry thrusts scattered the dogs lusting after
their booty. To the Marquise he seemed like an angel
from heaven. He struck the murderous beast who was
embracing her slender body in the face with the hilt
of his sword so that blood poured out of his mouth
and he staggered back; then, politely addressing her in
French, he offered her his arm and led her, rendered
speechless by all she had witnessed, into the other
wing of the palace not yet consumed by the flames,
where she proceeded to sink to the ground completely
unconscious. There – when her frightened women
reappeared, he took steps to send for a doctor, made
assurances as he put on his hat that she would soon
recover, and returned to the fighting.