did not do so before.
Prince, l have often
given away my heart,
and am nearly always deceived.
This person was quite
unworthy of the gift.
There is much that might be
improved in him,
but though amid them one cannot
but discern a cunning nature
reveal what is often a diverting intellect.
Oh, that he possesses good traits,
l was the first to show,
a present of my friendship.
l have drunk with this man,
and perhaps l deplore the fact now,
l was attracted by his good qualities.
But when the fellow declares
that he was a child in 1812,
and had his left leg cut off,
and buried in the Vagarkoff cemetery,
in Moscow, such a cock-and-bull story
amounts to disrespect, my dear sir,
to impudent exaggeration.
Oh, he was very likely joking,
he said it for fun.
l quite understand you.
But when a man makes
use of extravagance in order to show
the intimacy bores him, it is time
for a man of honour to break off
the said intimacy, and to teach
the offender his place.
Oh, but Lebedeff cannot have been
in Moscow in 1812.
He is much too young,
it is all nonsense.
but even if we admit
that he was alive in 1812,
can one believe that a French chasseur
pointed a cannon at him for a lark,
and shot his left leg off?
He says he picked his own leg up
and took it away
and buried it in the cemetery.
He swore he had a stone put up over it
with the inscription:
'Here lies the leg of
'Rest, beloved ashes,
till the morn of joy.'
and that he has a service
read over it every year,
which is simply sacrilege,
and goes to Moscow once a year
on purpose.
He invites me to Moscow in order
to prove his assertion, and show me
his leg's tomb, and the very cannon
that shot him, he says it's the eleventh
from the gate of the Kremlin.
And, meanwhile both his legs
are still on his body.
l assure you, it is only
an innocent joke,
and you need not be angry about it.
Well, if you were one
of Napoleon's pages in 1812,
you might let me bury my leg
in the Moscow cemetery.
Why, did you say...
''l am rather young-looking,
l know; but l am actually older''
than l appear to be.
l was ten or eleven in the year 1812.
And with 10 years child it is possible
to explain adventures age.
Had l been fifteen years old l should
probably have been terribly frightened,
but as l was only just ten
l was not in the least alarmed,
and rushed through the crowd
to the very door of the palace
when Napoleon alighted from his horse.
Undoubtedly, at ten years old
you would not have felt
the sense of fear, as you say.
Yes, it's quite true, isn't it?
A small boy, a child,
would naturally realize no danger,
he would shove his way
through the crowds to see the shine
and glitter of the uniforms,
and especially the great man
of whom everyone was speaking.
Napoleon, passing a couple of paces
from me, caught sight of me accidentally.
l was very well dressed,
and being all alone, in that crowd,
as you will easily imagine...
Oh, of course!
Naturally the sight impressed him.
Just so just so!
When his eagle eye fell on me,
mine probably flashed back
in response.
Voila un garcon bien eveille!
Qui est ton pere?
l immediately replied,
almost panting with excitement,
A general, who died
on the battle-fields of his country!
Le fils d'un boyard et d'un brave,
pardessus le marche.
J'aime les boyards. M'aimes-tu, petit?
To this keen question
l replied as keenly,
The Russian heart can recognize
a great man even in the bitter enemy
of his country.
At least, l don't remember
the exact words.
Napoleon was struck.
l like that boy's pride,
if all Russians think like this child,
then he didn't finish,
hut went on and entered the palace.
l instantly mixed with his suite,
and followed him.
A couple of days after this,
Napoleon's page, De Bazancour, died,
he had not been able to stand
the trials of the campaign.
Napoleon remembered me,
l was taken away without explanation,
the dead page's uniform
was tried