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has not worn off yet。 I believe this is the very first； say；
realistic； story I heard in my life； but all the same I don't
know why I should have been so frightfully impressed。 Of course
I know what our village dogs look likebut still。 。 。 。 No！ At
this very day； recalling the horror and compassion of my
childhood； I ask myself whether I am right in disclosing to a
cold and fastidious world that awful episode in the family
history。 I ask myselfis it right？especially as the B。 family
had always been honourably known in a wide countryside for the
delicacy of their tastes in the matter of eating and drinking。
But upon the whole； and considering that this gastronomical
degradation overtaking a gallant young officer lies really at the
door of the Great Napoleon； I think that to cover it up by
silence would be an exaggeration of literary restraint。 Let the
truth stand here。 The responsibility rests with the Man of St。
Helena in view of his deplorable levity in the conduct of the
Russian campaign。 It was during the memorable retreat from
Moscow that Mr。 Nicholas B。； in company of two brother
officersas to whose morality and natural refinement I know
nothingbagged a dog on the outskirts of a village and
subsequently devoured him。 As far as I can remember the weapon
used was a cavalry sabre； and the issue of the sporting episode
was rather more of a matter of life and death than if it had been
an encounter with a tiger。 A picket of Cossacks was sleeping in
that village lost in the depths of the great Lithuanian forest。
The three sportsmen had observed them from a hiding…place making
themselves very much at home among the huts just before the early
winter darkness set in at four o'clock。 They had observed them
with disgust and； perhaps； with despair。 Late in the night the
rash counsels of hunger overcame the dictates of prudence。
Crawling through the snow they crept up to the fence of dry
branches which generally encloses a village in that part of
Lithuania。 What they expected to get and in what manner； and
whether this expectation was worth the risk； goodness only knows。
However； these Cossack parties； in most cases wandering without
an officer； were known to guard themselves badly and often not at
all。 In addition； the village lying at a great distance from the
line of French retreat； they could not suspect the presence of
stragglers from the Grand Army。 The three officers had strayed
away in a blizzard from the main column and had been lost for
days in the woods； which explains sufficiently the terrible
straits to which they were reduced。 Their plan was to try and
attract the attention of the peasants in that one of the huts
which was nearest to the enclosure； but as they were preparing to
venture into the very jaws of the lion； so to speak； a dog （it is
mighty strange that there was but one）； a creature quite as
formidable under the circumstances as a lion； began to bark on
the other side of the fence。 。 。 。
At this stage of the narrative； which I heard many times （by
request） from the lips of Captain Nicholas B。's sister…in…law； my
grandmother； I used to tremble with excitement。
The dog barked。 And if he had done no more than bark； three
officers of the Great Napoleon's army would have perished
honourably on the points of Cossacks' lances； or perchance
escaping the chase would have died decently of starvation。 But
before they had time to think of running away that fatal and
revolting dog； being carried away by the excess of the zeal；
dashed out through a gap in the fence。 He dashed out and died。
His head； I understand； was severed at one blow from his body。 I
understand also that later on； within the gloomy solitudes of the
snow…laden woods； when； in a sheltering hollow； a fire had been
lit by the party； the condition of the quarry was discovered to
be distinctly unsatisfactory。 It was not thinon the contrary；
it seemed unhealthily obese； its skin showed bare patches of an
unpleasant character。 However； they had not killed that dog for
the sake of the pelt。 He was large。 。 。 。 He was eaten。 。 。 。
The rest is silence。 。 。 。
A silence in which a small boy shudders and says firmly：
〃I could not have eaten that dog。〃
And his grandmother remarks with a smile：
〃Perhaps you don't know what it is to be hungry。〃
I have learned something of it since。 Not that I have been
reduced to eat dog。 I have fed on the emblematical animal；
which； in the language of the volatile Gauls； is called la vache
enragee； I have lived on ancient salt junk； I know the taste of
shark； of trepang； of snake； of nondescript dishes containing
things without a namebut of the Lithuanian village dognever！
I wish it to be distinctly understood that it is not I； but my
granduncle Nicholas； of the Polish landed gentry； Chevalier de la
Legion d'Honneur； etc。； who in his young days； had eaten the
Lithuanian dog。
I wish he had not。 The childish horror of the deed clings
absurdly to the grizzled man。 I am perfectly helpless against
it。 Still； if he really had to； let us charitably remember that
he had eaten him on active service； while bearing up bravely
against the greatest military disaster of modern history； and； in
a manner； for the sake of his country。 He had eaten him to
appease his hunger； no doubt； but also for the sake of an
unappeasable and patriotic desire； in the glow of a great faith
that lives still； and in the pursuit of a great illusion kindled
like a false beacon by a great man to lead astray the effort of a
brave nation。
Pro patria！
Looked at in that light； it appears a sweet and decorous meal。
And looked at in the same light； my own diet of la vache enragee
appears a fatuous and extravagant form of self…indulgence； for
why should I； the son of a land which such men as these have
turned up with their plowshares and bedewed with their blood；
undertake the pursuit of fantastic meals of salt junk and
hardtack upon the wide seas？ On the kindest view it seems an
unanswerable question。 Alas！ I have the conviction that there
are men of unstained rectitude who are ready to murmur scornfully
the word desertion。 Thus the taste of innocent adventure may be
made bitter to the palate。 The part of the inexplicable should
be al lowed for in appraising the conduct of men in a world where
no explanation is final。 No charge of faithlessness ought to be
lightly uttered。 The appearances of this perishable life are
d