During these first few days of the French occupation Moscow became a very pandemonium of pillage and violence, of smoke and fire, of orgies and of cruelties too horrible to relate. The churches and cathedrals were robbed and desecrated without distinction. Marshal Davoust could find no more appropriate place for his bedroom than the sanctuary, the very "Holy of Holies" of a cathedral, wherein he slept, guarded by a sentinel at each of the two royal doors which gave entrance to this hallowed spot. Horses were stabled in the churches. Furnaces and melting-pots were to be seen outside each of Moscow's most venerable cathedrals, where gold and silver vessels, the frames of costly ikons, ornaments, even the golden decorations of the vestments of the priests were melted down and fought over.

Soldiers on "leave of absence," which meant that they had received, each in turn, licence for a season of plundering, spent every hour of their leisure in pillage and violence, declaring—if interfered with—that the Emperor had promised them the treasures of Moscow.

The fires, meanwhile, raged on almost unnoticed. They broke out first close to the Foundling Hospital, then the Gostinnoy Dvor, the great market of the city, blazed up, and smoke rose almost simultaneously from a dozen different quarters. After two or three days a marshal was told off by Napoleon to quell the conflagration, but it was a week before Mortier's efforts produced any effect upon the flames. The Kitai Gorod was a sea of flames and the Kremlin itself was in danger; the Church of the Trinity caught fire and had to be destroyed by Napoleon's guard. The Emperor fled to the Palace of Petrofsky, accompanied by his staff, by the King of Naples and several marshals.

Napoleon at this time grew nervous and irritable. He sent repeated messages to the Tsar Alexander professing the warmest personal regard and his willingness to conclude terms of peace, but the Tsar treated his overtures with silent contempt.

Many of the inhabitants of Moscow, those who had remained behind at the general exodus, preferring to live in the suburban quarters or to hide in cellars rather than abandon altogether their beloved city, by this time scarcely dared venture into the streets; for Napoleon's soldiers, having finished looting the houses and churches, had now turned their particular attention to robbery of the person. Men and women were held up and robbed in the open streets.

Vera, engaged from time to time upon the work of the patriotic league to which she belonged, was obliged to walk hither and thither, even in the streets most infested by French soldiers. For the first few days she had not been actually interfered with, a circumstance for which she was indebted partly to her aristocratic appearance and partly to her knowledge of the French language.

But there arrived a day when her immunity came to an end. During the morning her cousin D'Estreville called. He had overtaken his regiment at the gates of Moscow, following the main army as soon as he was able to ride. He was looking pale and worn, a shadow of his former self, and having discovered Vera's address he lost no time in paying her a visit, though he scarcely expected to find her in Moscow.

Vera was overjoyed to see him alive.

"I thought I saw your regiment march in, and even fancied that I made you out among the rest," she said, "though you were scarcely recognisable. You have been wounded or ill—which?"

Henri gave an account of his mishap. Then he asked why Vera had remained in the deserted city—a question to which she gave an evasive answer. Lastly he inquired whether she had seen Paul. Vera blushed.

"Oblige me, dear Henri, by mentioning his name no more," she said; "I have seen him, yes. He came to our portion of the town in search of some lady friends attached to the French theatrical company which existed here before the occupation. I—I think I was mistaken in Monsieur de Tourelle, Henri. At any rate I do not wish to see him or to speak to him again."

Henri whistled. "If your dislike to him is patriotic," he laughed, "I suppose I too am not a welcome visitor."

"Well, to be truthful, now I am assured of your safety, I would rather forget we are cousins until after the war," said Vera. Henri laughed.

"You don't know what the occupation of Moscow means for us Russians," she added. "Your people have defiled and robbed our holy places, destroyed our homes, ruined and wasted our country at the whim of a vile man who will reap no benefit from his wickedness. What does he propose to do, think you, mon ami? Because Moscow is occupied, do you suppose we Russians are done with?"

"It is only the beginning of our advance, ma cousine; do not flatter yourself with false hopes. If Moscow grows too hot for us, we shall march to St. Petersburg and Napoleon shall be crowned Tsar at St. Isaac's."

"We shall not agree, my friend. For the rest, do not visit me here—it is better not. If we were to argue constantly, I should soon forget that the same blood flows in our veins and I should learn to hate you as at this moment I hate every Frenchman."

Nevertheless the cousins parted friends, though Henri quite agreed that at present it would be better if they did not meet.

Vera walked in the outskirts of the city one afternoon, glad of the calls of some duty which justified the risk of venturing into the fresh air, when she observed a notable episode. An old Russian priest, one of the staff of the Cathedral of the Assumption, driven out of his senses by the persecutions and desecrations which he had witnessed in his beloved city and church, marched alone through the streets carrying a large ikon in his arms and shouting aloud denunciations and menaces against the disturbers of the peace of Holy Russia.

"Thy Holy Temple," he raved, "have they defiled and made Jerusalem a heap of stones—slay them, oh Lord, and scatter them! Shall Thy enemies triumph for ever?" And again:—

"The time shall come when every man who slayeth one of them shall believe that he doeth God service!"

Up the road came half a dozen rowdy French soldiers "on leave of absence". They stood and listened to the priest's raving for a moment, understanding nothing; then one knocked the old man down with a buffet, rolling him in the mud, while the ikon fell to the ground. Instantly there was a rowdy battle for possession of the image, which was quickly pulled in pieces, each piece being carefully scrutinised for precious stones or metal.

"Bah! we might have spared ourselves the trouble—it is brass—the whole thing is not worth fifty centimes!" exclaimed one man, looking angrily at the old priest, sitting dazed and bruised in the mud, mumbling and holding his head.

"How dare you carry a brass ikon, deluding honest persons into the belief that it is a thing of value?" asked another soldier; he kicked the old man viciously; the priest gave a howl of pain. This was more than Vera could stand.

"Miserables!" she exclaimed, "are you not ashamed of attacking an old man, and a priest? A curse will fall upon such as you."

"Let it fall, ma mie; see, mes enfants," the fellow continued, "what I have found—a French woman and a pretty one—are you one of the French actresses, chÉrie?" The soldier leered and tried to put his arm about her waist. Vera angrily pushed him away.

"Come, come, come!" said the fellow, who was half drunk, "you must not look crossly upon your compatriots—you and I are both good French people, let us be happy together."

"Thank God I am a Russian," said Vera. "If you touch me again you shall find that I can sting!"

"A Russian? Oho! Listen, mes enfants, she is a Russian! Then, chÉrie, you shall give us each six roubles and six kisses—see, I have spoken, it is an edict! Is it not so, my friends?"

The men crowded round Vera, whose heart sank a little. She placed her back against the wall of the house, however, close to which she stood, and felt within the folds of her mantle for the pistol, without which and a sharp dagger she never left the house at this time.

"See," she cried, "I said that I could sting—who will offer to touch me now. I swear that I will shoot if——"

One of the men by a sudden movement knocked the pistol from her hand; a second later he had his arms about her neck and was in the act of drawing the girl close to him. Suddenly he recoiled with an oath, pale, scowling, grabbing at the upper part of his left arm. Vera laughed.

"I told you I should sting!" she said.

"The little devil has stabbed me!" exclaimed the man, whose sleeve was covered with blood where it had touched his shoulder. "You little serpent, for this——" The laughter of his comrades drowned the rest of his threat.

Two French sub-officers now suddenly appeared upon the scene, one of them knocked the threatener aside.

"Stop it, canaille!" he cried. "Have you not read the placards of the Emperor? The inhabitants are no longer to be robbed and ravaged; they have suffered enough."

"Placards or no placards, Emperor or no Emperor, and corporals or no corporals," shouted the principal offender, "I shall not bear this affront, my friend! Brothers, we will have our roubles and our kisses. Hold this little fool while I exact my own share; then each shall have his turn!"

But the two sergeants placed themselves between Vera and her persecutors. One picked up her pistol and handed it to her. The young Frenchman who had first spoken drew his sword.

"Mes enfants," he said, "I recommend you to disappear. Three of you I know by name—let them go first—RÉnet, Judic and Meyer; go, my friends, if you are wise. These others I shall deal with."

The three men named quickly disappeared. It was true that the Emperor had—none too soon—placarded the city with stringent orders that the reign of bloodshed and violence should cease, under severe penalties. The other three men, after preserving their threatening attitude for a few moments, began to look over their shoulders in the direction taken by their retreating comrades; presently with a muttered curse or two and many scowls they turned and followed them.