Chapter VIII (2)

Picart led the horse by the bridle, and I followed, holding his tail. A little further on we found two roads, both of them with footmarks, and we stopped, not knowing which to take. We thought of making the horse go first, and trusting to him to guide us; but at last God took compassion on our misery. We heard a dog bark, and a little further on we came to a fairly large building. Imagine the roof of one of our barns placed on the ground, and you will have an idea of the kind of building now before us. We walked round it three times before we could discover a door, hidden as it was by a thatched roof reaching down to the ground. Picart went under the roof, and found a second door, at which he knocked gently. No one answered. He knocked again. Still no answer. Thinking the house was deserted, he was about to push open the door, when a feeble voice was heard; the door opened, and an old woman appeared, holding a piece of resinous wood lighted in her hand. At seeing Picart, she dropped the wood in terror and fled. My companion picked up the wood, still alight, and advanced some steps. I fastened the horse up near the door, and on going in found Picart in a cloud of smoke. In his white cloak, with the light in his hand, he looked like a penitent. He broke the silence by the best greeting he could muster in Polish, and I repeated it after him. An old man heard us, and came forward. When he saw Picart, he exclaimed:

'Ah, Frenchmen, that is well!'

He said it in Polish, and repeated it in German. We told them that we were Frenchmen of Napoleon's Guard. At that name the Pole bowed, and would have kissed our feet. At the word 'French,' repeated by the old woman, two younger women came out of a little recess, and showed the greatest joy. Picart recognised them for the two women whose footsteps we had followed.

After being with these good people for about five minutes the heat of the cottage, to which I was so unaccustomed, nearly suffocated me. I retreated to the door, where I fell down unconscious.

Picart ran to help me, but the old woman and one of her daughters had already lifted me up, and placed me on a wooden stool. They relieved me of the saucepan and of my bearskin cloak, and made me lie down on a camp-bed covered with skins. The women seemed very sorry for us, seeing our great misery, and especially for me, as I was so young, and had suffered so much more than my comrade. My sufferings had made me so wretched that it was pitiful to see me. The old man had busied himself in bringing in our horse, and they did all they could for us. Picart remembered the gin in my pouch, and made me swallow a little, and I began to feel much better.

The old woman took off my boots for me. I had not had them off since Smolensk--that is to say, since November 10th; it was now the 23rd. One of the girls filled a great basin with warm water, and, kneeling down, took my feet gently one after the other and washed them, pointing out that I had a wound in the right foot. It was an old chilblain of 1807, at the time of the Battle of Eylau. I had not felt it since then, but now it opened again, and I suffered cruelly from it.[41]

The other girl, who seemed to be the elder, performed the same office for Picart. He submitted calmly, but seemed embarrassed. I said he had had an inspiration from God when he thought of following the girls' footsteps.

'Yes,' he said; 'but when I saw them in the forest, I never thought we should be received like this. I did not tell you,' he continued, 'that my head ached like the devil--and I still feel it. I believe that dog of a Cossack's ball did more damage than I thought. We'll see.'

He untied the cord under his chin, which held the sheepskin ear-coverings in their places; but hardly had he done this when the blood began to flow.

'Just look!' he said. 'But that's nothing--it's only a scratch; the bullet must have slipped down the side of my head.'

The Pole helped him off with his shoulder-belt. He had almost forgotten how to take off that and his fur cap, he had slept in them for so long. The girl who had washed his feet washed his head too. Everyone gathered round to serve him. The poor fellow was so much touched by their care for him that great tears rolled down his face. Scissors were needed to cut his hair, and all at once I remembered the surgeon's little case which I had taken from the Cossack. We found everything we wanted there for dressing the wound--two pairs of scissors, and several other surgical instruments, with lint and bandages. After cutting the hair off, the old woman sucked the wound, which went deeper than we thought. Then we put on some lint, a bandage, and a handkerchief. We found the ball in the midst of some rags which filled his cap. It had gone right through the left wing of the Imperial eagle on the front of the cap. To his great joy, he also found his pipe, a regular cutty, not three inches long, and he began to smoke it at once.

When our feet were washed, they dried them with lambskins, which served afterwards as a carpet; and on my chilblain they put some ointment, assuring me it would soon make me all right. They gave me a bit to take away in a piece of linen; this I put in the surgeon's case with all the instruments I had used for Picart. We already felt much better, and we thanked the Poles for all the care they had taken of us. They told us how grieved they were not to be able to do more. On a journey one must lodge one's enemies and wash their feet. How much more one's friends! Just then the old woman screamed and ran out. Her great dog had run off with Picart's cap. They wanted to beat him, but we begged him off. I proposed to Picart that we should examine the portmanteau still on the horse's back, so we carried it near the stove. First we found nine handkerchiefs embroidered in silk. 'Quick!' said Picart; 'two each for our princesses, and one for the old mother, and the others we will keep.' This was done immediately, to everyone's great satisfaction. Then we found three pairs of officer's epaulettes, three silver watches, seven crosses of honour, two silver spoons, two dozen Hussars' gilt buttons, two boxes of razors, six bank-notes of 100 roubles each, and a pair of linen trousers stained with blood. I hoped to find a shirt, but was disappointed. I had greater need of that than of anything else, as the warmth had revived the vermin which devoured me.

The girls opened their eyes wide as they looked at our presents, unable to believe they were really theirs. The gilt buttons gave them greater pleasure than anything else, and also some gold rings, which I enjoyed putting on their fingers. The girl who had washed my feet noticed, I am sure, that I gave her the best. Very likely the Cossacks cut off the dead men's fingers to take the rings.

To the old man we gave a large English watch and two razors, besides all the Russian small money, amounting to more than thirty francs. We noticed that he fixed his eyes continually on a commander's cross with the Emperor's portrait, so we also gave that to him. I cannot describe his pleasure. He pressed it several times to his lips and his heart, and finally fastened it round his neck by a leather band, making us understand that only death should part him from it.

We asked for some bread, and they brought us what they had not dared give us before, they said, it was so bad. We really could not eat it. It was made of a black paste, full of grains of barley, rye, and bits of straw, rough enough to tear one's throat to pieces. They said this bread came from the Russians, that three leagues off the French had beaten them that very morning, and had taken a large convoy from them. This news had been brought to them by the Jews who were flying from all the villages on the road to Minsk. They had also sold them this bread, which was quite uneatable, and although I had not eaten any bread for more than a month, I could not manage to get my teeth into it. For a long time, too, my lips had been so cracked by the frost that they bled constantly.

When the peasants saw that we could not eat the bread, they brought us a piece of mutton, a few potatoes, some onions, and some pickled cucumber. They gave us, in fact, everything they had, saying that they would do their best to get us something better. We put the mutton into the saucepan to make some soup. The old man told us that half a league off there was a village filled with refugee Jews, and as they had carried off all their food with them, he hoped he could find there something better to eat than what they had set before us. We wished to give him some money, but he refused it, saying that what we had given him and his daughters would be quite sufficient, and that one of them had already gone off with her mother and the big dog.

They had made a bed for us on the ground, of straw and sheepskins. Picart had already gone to sleep, and I soon followed his example. We were awakened by the loud barking of the dog. 'Good!' said the Pole, 'my wife and daughter have come back.' They brought us some milk, a few potatoes, and a little cake of rye-meal, which they had procured by heavy payment, but brandy, _nima_.[42]

The little there was had been taken by the Russians. We thanked these kind people who had walked nearly two leagues, with the snow up to their knees, in the middle of the night, too, in terrible cold, and exposed to the attacks of wolves and bears, which abound in Lithuanian forests. We made some milk soup and drank it at once. I felt much better after I had eaten, and then sat reflecting, my head in my hands. Picart asked me what I was thinking of.

'I am thinking,' I said, 'that if I were not with you, and bound by honour and my oath, I should stay here in this forest with these good people.'

'Cheer up,' he said. 'I have had a lucky dream. I dreamed I was in the barracks at Courbevoie, eating a piece of _Mere aux bouts'_ pudding, and drinking a bottle of Suresnes wine.'[43]

While Picart was speaking, I noticed that his face was very red, and that he frequently put his hand to his forehead. I asked him if his head pained him. He said it did, but that was caused very likely by the heat, or by having slept too long, but he seemed to me to be in a fever. His vision of the barracks at Courbevoie confirmed me in this opinion. 'I want to go on with my dream, and try to find _Mere aux bouts_ again,' he said. 'Good-night!' He was asleep in two minutes.

I, too, tried to rest, but my sleep was constantly broken by the pains in my legs, the result of my continued over-walking. The dog began to bark soon after Picart went to sleep; he roused the people of the house, and the old man, who was seated on a bench near the stove, got up and seized a lance fastened to a long pine-branch, his only means of defence. He ran to the door, followed by his wife, and I did the same, taking care not to wake Picart, and armed myself with my musket and bayonet. We heard someone trying the outer door, and in reply to the old man's question of who was there, a nasal voice answered, 'Samuel!' The wife then told her husband that it was a Jew from the village. I resumed my place on hearing that a son of Israel was at the door, taking care to collect all our possessions around me, so little confidence had I in the new-comer. I slept for two hours, when Picart awoke me to take my share of the mutton soup. He still complained of a bad pain in his head, saying he had dreamt of nothing but Paris and Courbevoie, and, forgetting that he had already related his dream to me, told me that he had been dancing at the barriere du Roule,[44] and had drunk with the Grenadiers who were killed at the Battle of Eylau.

As we sat down to eat, the Jew gave us a bottle of gin, which Picart took possession of at once, and speaking in German, he asked its history. When he tasted it, all the thanks the Jew got was the exclamation that it was not worth the devil. It was bad gin made from potato-spirit.

The idea came to me that we might make use of the Jew as a guide; we had quite enough with us to tempt his love of gain. Picart approved of my plan, and just as he was prepared to propose it, the horse raised himself, terrified, trying to break his tether, and the dog gave tongue, and at the same moment some wolves began howling at the door. Picart took his musket to chase them away, but our host warned him against this, on account of the Russians. He contented himself, therefore, by taking his sword in one hand, and in the other a piece of flaming pine. Then opening the door, he ran at the wolves and put them to flight. He came in again, saying that the air had done him good, and that his headache had nearly gone. The wolves afterwards came back, but we took no notice of them.

As I had expected, the Jew asked us if we had anything to sell or exchange. I said to Picart that now was the time for proposals, as we wanted to be put on our way to Borisow, or to the first French outpost. I asked him how far we were from the Berezina, and he answered nine leagues by the high road; but we made him understand that we wished to get there by a shorter route, and I proposed that he should guide us if we could arrange it. We gave him the three pairs of epaulettes, and a bank-note worth 100 roubles, the whole the value of 500 francs; I made the conditions, however, that the epaulettes should be left in charge of our host, who would hand them over to him on his return, and that I would give him the bank-note on arriving at our destination--that is, at the first French outpost. When he returned the epaulettes would be given to him on presentation of a silk handkerchief which I showed to the assembled company. The handkerchief was to be given to the younger daughter, who had washed my feet, and the Jew agreed to give our host and hostess 25 roubles. The son of Israel accepted the conditions, observing, however, that he should be running a great many risks in thus leaving the highroad. Our host said how sorry he felt that he was not ten years younger, so that he might guide us for nothing, and defend us also against any Russians who might come; saying this, he shook his halberd. He gave the Jew a great many instructions as to the road, and he at last consented to guide us, after satisfying himself that everything we had given him was of full value.

At nine in the morning we started. It was November 24th. The Polish family stood on the highest piece of ground they could find, following us with their eyes, and waving to us with their hands. Our guide went first, leading our horse. Picart talked to himself, sometimes standing and going through the musket-drill. All at once he stopped, and, on turning round, I saw him motionless, porting arms as if on parade. Suddenly he thundered out, 'Vive l'Empereur!' I went up to him, and, taking him by the arm, I said, 'What is the matter with you, Picart?' fearing that he had gone mad.

'What!' he answered, as if only just awake, 'isn't the Emperor inspecting us?'

I was distressed to hear him, and answering that it was not to-day, but to-morrow, I took his arm, and hurried him along to catch up with the Jew. Large tears were falling down his face.

'What,' I said, 'an old soldier crying!'

'Let me cry,' he said; 'it will do me good. I feel miserable, and if we don't get to the regiment to-morrow, it's all up with me.'

'Cheer up! We shall be there to-morrow, I hope, or the next day at latest. How's this? You are taking on just like a woman.'

'That is so,' he said; 'I can't explain it. I was either sleeping or dreaming; but I am better now.'

'That's right, _mon vieux_. It's nothing; it has often happened to me before. But since you came I have felt quite hopeful.'

As I talked, I saw our guide stop continually to listen. Suddenly Picart threw himself full length in the snow, and shouted in a commanding voice, 'Silence!'

'Now,' I said to myself, 'he's done with--my old comrade has gone mad! What will become of me?'

I looked at him petrified. He then got up, and shouted again, 'Vive l'Empereur! The guns! Listen! We're saved!'

'What do you mean?' I said.

'Yes, listen,' he went on.

I listened, and really heard the sound of distant guns.

'Ah, now I can breathe again!' he said; 'the Emperor is not a prisoner, as that fool of an emigrant said yesterday. It had got regularly on my brain, and I should have died of rage and mortification. Now let us go in that direction; it's a safe guide.'

The Israelite assured us that the guns were in the direction of the Berezina, and my old comrade was so delighted that he began to sing:

Air du _Cure de Pomponne._

'Les Autrichiens disaient tout bas; Les Francais vont vite en besogne Prenez, tandis qu'ils n'y sont pas, L'Alsace et la Bourgogne. Ah! tu t'en souviendras, la-ri-ra, Du depart de Boulogne' (_bis_).[45]

Half an hour later we could not advance any further, so difficult had our march become; our guide believed he had missed the way. We heard the booming of the guns continually; it might be about mid-day. All at once the sound of the guns ceased, the wind got up again, and the snow began falling in such quantities that we could not see each other, and the poor son of Israel gave up leading the horse. We advised him to mount the beast, which advice he took. I began to feel terribly tired, and uneasy in my mind, but said nothing; while Picart swore like a madman because he could not hear the guns, and at the wind which prevented our hearing. The trees were now so close together that we could not possibly penetrate through them. Every moment something caught our feet, and we fell headlong on the ground half buried in the snow; and after much painful walking we found ourselves at the place we had left an hour before.

We now stopped for a few minutes, drank some of the bad gin which the Jew had given us, and discussed our next move. We decided that we must return to the highroad. I asked the guide if he could take us back to where we had spent the night, in the event of our not being able to find the road. He said he could, but that we must make landmarks where we passed. Picart accomplished this by 'blazing' the young birches and pines as he went along. When we had gone about half a league, we came upon a cottage; it was only just in time, as my strength was now failing me. We decided to halt there for half an hour while we fed the horse, and ourselves also. By a stroke of luck, we found there a quantity of dry wood for burning, two benches made of rough wood, and three sheepskins; these we thought we would take away with us, in case we were obliged to spend the night in the forest.

We warmed ourselves while we ate a piece of horseflesh. Our guide would not touch it, but drew from under his sheepskin cloak a wretched-looking cake of barley-flour mixed with straw, which he begged us to share with him. He swore to us by his father Abraham that he had nothing with him but that and a few nuts. We therefore divided it into four; the Jew took two parts, and we each had one. We also drank a little of the bad gin. When I offered some to him he refused, as he would not drink out of our cup, but he accepted some poured into the hollow of his hand.

Then he told us that the next hut was a good hour's walk off, so we resolved to set out at once for fear of being overtaken by the darkness. The road was so narrow that we had the greatest difficulty in getting along, but Samuel, our guide, had pluck, and kept on assuring us that it would become wider farther on.

As a finishing stroke to our misfortunes, the snow began to fall again heavily, and completely hid the way from us. Our guide burst into tears, saying that he did not know where we were. We tried to retrace our steps, but this was worse, as the snow flew straight in our faces, and now the best thing we could do was to stand against a group of pine-trees, waiting till it pleased God to stop the snow-storm. It lasted for more than half an hour longer. We were almost perished with cold. At times Picart swore, and then he would hum:

'Ah! tu t'en souviendras, la-ri-ra, Du depart de Boulogne!'

The Jew continually cried out, 'My God! my God!' For my part, I said nothing, but my thoughts were gloomy, and had it not been for my bearskin and the Rabbi's cap, which I wore under my shako, I should have yielded to the cold.

As soon as the weather grew a little better, we tried to find our way, but a complete calm had followed the storm, so that we could not distinguish the north from the south. We were now completely lost. We walked on at random in great circles, continually coming back to the same place.

Picart swore continually, but now it was at the Jew. However, after walking for some time, we found ourselves in an open space, about 400 yards in circumference, and we hoped to find a road here, but after wandering round it several times, we discovered nothing. We looked at each other, hoping for an idea from someone. My old comrade leant his musket against a tree, and, looking all round him, he drew his sword from its sheath. Hardly had he done so, when the poor Jew, thinking he was going to be killed, set up a piercing shriek, and, leaving the horse, prepared to fly; his strength, however, failed him, and he fell on his knees, imploring mercy of God and of us; quite needlessly, however, as Picart had only drawn his sword to cut down a small birch-tree and consult it as to our direction. He looked fixedly at the part of the tree still in the ground, and then said calmly, 'That is the direction we must take. The bark on this side, which must be the north, is a little red and rotted, and the other side, that of the south, is white and perfect. Let us walk towards the south.'

We had no time to lose, as our greatest dread was that night should overtake us. We tried to beat out a path for ourselves, taking care not to lose the direction of our starting-point.

Just then the Jew, who was in front of us, uttered a cry, and we saw him stretched full length on the ground. He had fallen down in trying to drag the horse between two trees where there was not room to pass. The poor _cognia_ could neither go forward nor back. We had to stop and disentangle the man from the horse; the burden the horse carried, as well as his harness, had been pressed backwards on to his hind-quarters.

I was much put out at this loss of time. I would willingly have left the horse behind, but at the end of half an hour's efforts we discovered a fairly wide path, which the Jew recognised as being the continuation of the road we had lost. He knew the road by some beehives in the trees, too high, unfortunately, for us to reach.[46]

Picart looked at his watch, and saw that it was nearly four o'clock, therefore we had no time to lose. We now found ourselves close to a frozen lake, known to our guide. We crossed it without difficulty, and, turning to the left, continued our journey. Very soon we saw four men, who stopped on seeing us. We naturally got on guard at once, but it was soon apparent that they were more frightened than we, and after consulting together they came towards us, wishing us good-day. They were four Jews, known to our guide, belonging to a village on the high road. As the village was occupied by the French army, they could not possibly remain there without dying of cold and hunger. The provisions were all gone, and not a single house was left for shelter, even for the Emperor. From them we learnt, to our joy, that the French army was only two leagues off. They advised us, however, to go no further that day, as we might easily miss the road. We could pass the night in the first hut we should come to, not far off. They left us, bidding us good-night, and we fortunately soon found our resting-place for the night, There was a quantity of straw and wood in the hut, and we immediately lit a good fire in an earthenware stove we found there. It would have taken too long to make soup, so we contented ourselves with a piece of roast meat, and then decided to watch in turn two hours at a time, with loaded weapons near us.

I do not know how long I had been asleep, when I was awakened by the horse, frightened in his turn by the howling of the wolves outside. Picart took a long pole, and tying some straw and resinous wood to the end, he lit it and rushed on the animals, holding his flaming pole in one hand and his sword in the other, and for the moment they fled. He returned triumphant, but he had scarcely lain down again when they came back with redoubled fury. He then took a great piece of lighted wood, and, throwing it a dozen yards off, he told the Jew to take out a quantity of dry wood to keep up the blaze. After this we heard no more howling.

At about four o'clock Picart woke me with an agreeable surprise. Without telling me, he had made soup with some oatmeal and flour he had left, and had roasted a good piece of horseflesh. We both set to with a good appetite. Picart had given the Jew his share, and we took care of the horse also. We had filled several wooden tubs with snow, which was now melted; we purified it by putting in a quantity of lighted charcoal. This served for our drink, for soup, and for watering the horse, who had drunk nothing since the evening before. After looking to our boots, I took a piece of charcoal, and wrote the following inscription on a plank in large letters:

'Two Grenadiers of the Emperor Napoleon's Guard, lost in this forest, passed the nights of November 24th and 25th in this hut. The day before they enjoyed the hospitality of a kind Polish family.' This inscription I signed.

We had scarcely gone fifty yards, when our horse stopped short. Our guide said he thought he saw something on the road, and on going nearer there were two wolves sitting waiting for us. Picart fired, and the wolves disappeared. Half an hour afterwards we were safe.

We first came across a bivouac of twelve men, German soldiers attached to our army. We stopped near their fire to ask for news. They looked at us without answering, and then consulted among themselves. They were in the last stage of destitution. Three dead bodies were lying near them. As our guide had now kept his bargain, we gave him what we promised him, and after asking him again to thank the good Poles for us, we bade him good-bye and a safe journey. He strode off quickly and disappeared.

We now prepared to gain the high road, only ten minutes' walk off, when five of the Germans surrounded us, begging us to leave our horse behind to be killed, and assuring us we should have our share. Two of them took hold of his bridle, but Picart, who had had enough of this, said, in bad German, that if they did not leave hold of the bridle he would cut their faces for them with his sword, and he drew it out of its sheath. The Germans took no notice, and Picart repeated what he had said. No answer. He then gave the two holding the bridle a smart blow with his fist which stretched them in the snow. He asked me to hold the horse, and said to the others: 'Come on, if you have any pluck.' Seeing, however, that no one moved, he took three pieces of meat out of the saucepan and gave them to the men. Those lying on the ground got up at once for their share. I saw that they were almost dead of hunger, and to make up for our rough treatment of them, I gave them a piece already cooked, weighing more than three pounds. They threw themselves on the food ravenously enough, and we continued on our way. A little farther on, we came on two fires almost extinguished, several men, half dead, lying around them. Two of them spoke to us; one cried, 'Comrades, are you going to kill the horse? I only want a little blood!'

We did not answer. We were still a gun-shot from the highroad. When at last we reached it, I said aloud to Picart, 'We are saved!'

A man near us, wrapped in a half-burned cloak, said, raising his voice, 'Not yet!' He moved off, looking at me and shrugging his shoulders. He knew what was going on better than I did.

Soon afterwards we saw a detachment of about thirty men, engineers and _pontonniers_. I recognised them as the men we had met at Orcha, where they formed part of the garrison.[47] This detachment, commanded by three officers, and which had joined us only four days ago, had not suffered. They looked strong and well, and were travelling in the direction of the Berezina. I asked an officer to direct us to the Imperial quarters, and he replied that it was still in the rear, but had begun to move, and that we should soon see the head of the column appear. He warned us to look well after our horse, as the Emperor had given orders to take all that were found for the use of the artillery and the wounded. While we waited for the column we hid ourselves in the wood.

I cannot possibly describe all the sufferings, anguish, and scenes of desolation I had seen and passed through, nor those which I was fated still to see and endure; they left deep and terrible memories, which I have never forgotten.

This was November 25th, perhaps about seven o'clock in the morning, and as yet it was hardly light. I was musing on all I had seen, when the head of the column appeared. Those in advance seemed to be Generals, a few on horseback, but the greater part on foot. There were also a great number of other officers, the remnant of the Doomed Squadron and Battalion formed on the 22nd, and barely existing at the end of three days. Those on foot dragged themselves painfully along, almost all of them having their feet frozen and wrapped in rags or in bits of sheepskin, and all nearly dying of hunger. Afterwards came the small remains of the Cavalry of the Guard. The Emperor came next, on foot, and carrying a baton. He wore a large cloak lined with fur, a dark-red velvet cap with black fox fur on his head. Murat walked on foot at his right, and on his left the Prince Eugene, Viceroy of Italy. Next came the Marshals, Berthier--Prince of Neufchatel--Ney, Mortier, Lefebvre, with other Marshals and Generals whose corps had been nearly annihilated.

The Emperor mounted a horse as soon as he passed: so did a few of those with him, the greater part of them having no more horses to ride. Seven or eight hundred officers and non-commissioned officers followed, walking in order and perfect silence, and carrying the eagles of their different regiments, which so often had led them to victory. This was all that remained of 60,000 men.

After them came the Imperial Guard on foot, marching also in order. The first were the Chasseurs. Poor Picart, who had not seen the army for a month, gazed in silence; but it was easy to see how much he felt. He struck the ground many times with the butt of his musket, then his breast and forehead with his clenched hand. Great tears fell from his eyes, rolled down his cheeks, and froze in his moustache. Then, turning to me, he said:

'I don't know, _mon pays_, if I am awake or dreaming. It breaks my heart to see our Emperor on foot, his baton in his hand. He, so great, who made us all so proud of him!' He went on: 'Did you notice how he looked at us?'

The Emperor had turned his head towards us as he passed. He looked at us as he always looked at the men of his Guard when he met them alone. He seemed, in this hour of misfortune, to inspire us by his glance with confidence and courage. Picart declared that the Emperor had recognised him, which was quite possible. My old comrade, fearful of looking ridiculous, had taken off his white cloak and carried it over his left arm, and although his head still pained him, he had put on his fur cap, not liking to appear in the sheepskin the Poles had given him. Poor Picart forgot all his own miseries, and now only thought of the Emperor, and of the comrades he longed to see.

At last the old Grenadiers appeared. These were the first regiment; Picart belonged to the second. We were not long in catching sight of them, however, as the first column was a short one--in my opinion quite half were missing. When at last his own regiment came up to us, Picart advanced to join it.

Then someone said:

'Look! Isn't that like Picart?'

'Yes,' answered Picart, 'it is I; and I will not leave you again, except to die.'

The company immediately took possession of him (for the sake of the horse, of course). I walked with him for some time longer, to get a piece of the horse's flesh if they killed him, but a shout was heard:

'The horse belongs to the company, like the man!'

'I belong to the company, certainly,' said Picart; 'but the sergeant, who claims a bit of the horse, killed his master in the first place.'

'Very well, then,' said a sergeant who knew me, 'he shall have some.'

This sergeant took the place of a sergeant-major who had died the day before.

The column came to a halt, and an officer asked Picart where he came from, and how he happened to be in front, as those who had escorted the convoy had come back three days ago. The halt lasted for some time. Picart related his adventures, stopping continually to ask after several comrades whom he failed to see in the ranks. They were all dead. He dared not ask after his bed-mate, who was also from his own country. But at last he ventured.

'And where is Rougeau?'

'At Krasnoe,' said the drummer.

'Ah! I understand.'

'Yes,' continued the drummer, 'he died from a ball which cut both his legs off. Before he died he made you his executor. He gave me for you his cross, his watch, and a little leather bag containing money and different things. He begged me to tell you that they were for his mother. If, like him, you were so unfortunate as not to see France again, you were to commission someone else.'

The drummer, named Patrice, then took all the things out of his knapsack before all the company, saying to Picart:

'I give them to you just as I received them from his hands. He took them out of his knapsack--which we replaced under his head--and directly afterwards he died.'

'If I have the good fortune to get back to Picardy,' said my friend, 'I will carry out my comrade's last wishes.'

They began the march, and I bade good-bye to my old friend, saying we should meet again at bivouac in the evening.

Then I waited by the side of the road until my regiment came by, as I heard it formed part of the rear-guard.

After the Grenadiers came more than 30,000 men, almost all with their feet and hands frozen, a great number of them without firearms, as they were quite unable to make use of them. Many of them walked leaning on sticks; generals, colonels, other officers, privates, men on horseback, men on foot, men of all the different nations making up our army, passed in a confused rabble, covered with cloaks and coats all torn and burnt, wrapped in bits of cloth, in sheepskins, in everything they could lay their hands on to keep out the cold. They walked silently without complaining, keeping themselves as ready as they could for any possible struggle with the enemy. The Emperor in our midst inspired us with confidence, and found resources to save us yet. There he was--always the great genius; however miserable we might be, with him we were always sure of victory in the end.

I had more than an hour to wait before the column had passed by, and after that there was a long train of miserable wretches following the regiments mechanically. They had reached the last stage of destitution, and could not hope to get across the Berezina, although we were now so near it. Then I saw the remains of the Young Guard, skirmishers, flank-men, and some of the light companies, escaped from Krasnoe. All these regiments mingled together marched in perfect order. Behind them came the artillery and several waggons. The bulk of the artillery, commanded by General Negre, had already gone before. Next came the Fusiliers-Chasseurs. Their numbers were greatly diminished. Our regiment was still separated from me by some pieces of artillery, drawn by poor beasts with no power left in them. After that I saw my regiment marching to left and right of the road to join the Fusiliers-Chasseurs. The Adjutant-Major, Roustan, saw me the first, and cried out, 'Hallo, poor Bourgogne! Is that you? We thought you were dead behind us, and here you are alive in front! This is first-rate. Have you met some of our men behind?' I told him that for the last three days I had been in the woods to avoid being taken by the Russians. M. Cesarisse said to the Colonel that he knew I had stayed behind since the 22nd, and that he was surprised beyond everything to see me again. My company came at last, and I took my own place in it before my friends were aware of it.[48] When at last they saw me, they came round me asking questions which I had not strength to answer; I was as overwhelmed to find myself once more amongst my comrades as if I had been with my own family. They told me they could not imagine how I had become separated from them, and that if they had only known I was ill and could not follow, it should not have happened. As I glanced over the company, I saw that their numbers also were terribly diminished. The Captain was missing. He had lost all his toes by the frost, and just at that moment they did not know where he was, although they had found a wretched horse for him to ride. Two of my friends took hold of me under the arms, seeing that I could scarcely walk.[49]

We joined the Fusiliers-Chasseurs. I never remember in all my life having such a terrible longing for sleep, and yet we were obliged to go on. My friends supported me under the arms again, telling me to go to sleep. This we did for each other in turn, for sleep overcame us all. Frequently it happened that we stopped short, all three of us having gone off. The cold, fortunately, was much less that day, otherwise most of us might have been frozen to death.

In the middle of the night we reached Borisow. The Emperor stayed in a country house on the right of the road, and the Guard bivouacked round it. General Roguet, who commanded us, took possession of a greenhouse for the night. I and my friends were behind it. During the night the cold increased very much. The next day (the 26th) we took up a position on the banks of the Berezina. The Emperor was at Studianka, a little village on a hill in front.

We saw the brave _pontonniers_ working hard at the bridges for us to cross. They had worked all night, standing up to their shoulders in ice-cold water, encouraged by their General.[50] These brave men sacrificed their lives to save the army. One of my friends told me as a fact that he had seen the Emperor himself handing wine to them.

The first bridge was finished at two o'clock in the afternoon. It was a painful and difficult piece of work, as the trestles sank continually in the mud. Marshal Oudinot's corps crossed immediately to attack the Russians, who had tried to prevent our passage. The cavalry of the 2nd Corps had already swum across, not waiting for the bridge to be finished, and every man took a foot soldier behind him. The second bridge, for the artillery and cavalry, was finished at four o'clock.[51]

Directly we arrived at the banks of the river I lay down wrapped up in my fur, and then found myself trembling all over with fever. I was delirious for a long time. I fancied I was at my father's house, eating potatoes, bread and butter _a la flamande_, and drinking beer. I do not know how long I was in this condition, but I remember my friend bringing me some hot broth in a bowl, which I drank eagerly, and I was soon in a perspiration, in spite of the cold. Besides my bearskin cloak, my friends had covered me with a great piece of waterproofing they had torn off a waggon. The rest of the night I lay quiet without moving.

On the next day (the 27th) I felt rather better, but terribly weak. That day the Emperor crossed the Berezina with part of the Guard, and about a thousand men belonging to Marshal Ney's corps. Our regiment remained on the banks. Suddenly I heard my name called; I turned my head and saw M. Peniaux, director of the Emperor's stage posts and relays, who had searched me out. They told him that I was ill, and he came at once, not to give me anything--he had nothing to give, except encouragement. I thanked him for his kindness, and said I did not expect even to cross the Berezina, or to see France again; but I begged him, if he were more fortunate than I, to tell my parents of my sad situation. He offered me money, but I declined it. I would willingly have exchanged 800 francs for the potatoes and bread-and-butter I dreamed I had eaten at home.

Before he left me he pointed out the house where the Emperor had stayed, saying he had been unfortunate, as the house was a flour warehouse, but the Russians had taken it all, so that he had nothing to offer me. He shook me by the hand and left me to cross the bridge.

As soon as he had gone, I remembered that he had spoken of some flour in the Emperor's house, so I rose, and, weak as I was, I dragged myself in that direction. The Emperor had only just left the house, and yet they had already taken off all the doors. I went through several rooms, and the traces of flour could be seen in them all. In one of them the boards in the floor were very badly laid down; there was more than an inch between them. I sat down and scraped out with my sword as much dirt as flour, which I collected and put into my handkerchief. After working more than an hour, I got out about two pounds in weight, an eighth of which was dirt, straw, and little bits of wood. That did not matter in the least; I went out happy. As I made my way towards our bivouac I saw a fire, where several men from the Guard were warming themselves. Amongst them was a musician from our regiment, who had a tin bowl on his knapsack. I signed to him to come to me, and as he seemed unwilling to leave his place, I pointed to my parcel, making him understand there was something inside it. He rose with difficulty, and when he was near enough I said, in a voice which the others could not hear, that if he would lend me his bowl, I would make some cakes which we could share. He consented directly, and as there were several fires near, we looked out for one in a quiet place. I then made a paste and four cakes from it; the half I gave to my musician, and took him back with me to the regiment, still camped on the bank of the river. I divided the rest of the cakes with the men who had helped me along the road; they thought them very good, still hot as they were from the baking. After drinking some of the muddy water of the Berezina, we warmed ourselves, waiting for the order to cross the bridges.

Near our fire was a man belonging to the company attired in _full uniform_! I asked him what that was for, and he only laughed at me. The poor fellow was ill; that laugh was the laugh of death, as he succumbed during the night.

A little further off was an old soldier with two chevrons--fifteen years service, that is. His wife was _cantiniere_. They had lost everything--carts, horses, baggage, besides two children, who had died in the snow; all this poor woman had left to her was despair and a dying husband. The poor creature, still a young woman, was sitting on the snow, holding her dying husband's head on her knees. She did not weep; her grief seemed beyond that. Behind her, leaning on her shoulder, was a beautiful young girl of thirteen or fourteen years, the only child remaining to her. This poor child was sobbing bitterly, her tears falling and freezing on her father's cold face. She wore a soldier's cape over her poor dress, and a sheepskin on her shoulders to keep out the cold.[52] None of their own comrades were there to comfort them. Their regiment was utterly destroyed. We did all that we possibly could for them, but I was not able to find out if these unhappy people were saved. Whichever way one turned, these terrible scenes were taking place. Old carts and waggons furnished us with wood enough to warm ourselves, and we made the most of this opportunity. My friends wanted to hear how I had spent my three days of absence. They told me on their side that on the 23rd, when they were marching across the forest, they caught sight of the 9th Corps drawn up by the roadside, shouting 'Vive l'Empereur!' They had not set eyes on this corps for five months. These men, who had scarcely suffered at all, and had never wanted food, were distressed at seeing their comrades' destitution. They could hardly believe that this was the Moscow army, then so splendid, now so miserable, and so sadly reduced in numbers.

The 2nd _Corps d'Armee_, commanded by Marshal Oudinot, and the 9th by Marshal Victor, Duke of Bellune, also the Poles under General Dombrowski, had not been to Moscow, but had remained in Lithuania. For the last few days, however, they had been engaged against the Russians, had repulsed them, and taken a large quantity of baggage; as the Russians retired they had burnt the bridge. This was the only bridge over the Berezina, and had stopped our advance, keeping us penned up between two forests in the middle of a marsh. We were a medley of Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese, Croats, Germans, Poles, Romans, Neapolitans, and even Prussians. I saw some canteen men whose wives and children were in great despair, weeping. We noticed that the men seemed to suffer more, both morally and physically, than the women. The women bore their sufferings and privations with an astonishing courage, enough to reflect shame on certain men, who had no courage and resignation to endure their trials. Very few of these women died, except those who fell into the Berezina in crossing the bridge, or some who were suffocated.

We were quiet when night came, every one in his bivouac, and no one came to cross the bridge during the night of the 27th-28th, a most astonishing thing. I slept, as we had a good fire, but in the middle of the night I was seized with fever again, and became delirious. The sound of firing woke me at about seven o'clock. I got up, took my firearms, and without speaking to anyone I went up to the bridge and crossed it alone. I met no one but the _pontonniers_, who camped on the two banks to repair the bridge in case of any accident.

The first thing I saw when I reached the other side was a large wooden hut. The Emperor had slept there, and had not come out yet. I was shivering with fever, so went up towards a fire where several officers were engaged in studying a map. I received such a cold welcome, however, that I hastily retired. One of our men, who had observed me, now came up to tell me that our regiment had crossed the bridge, and was in the second line of battle behind Marshal Oudinot's corps. As the cannon roared, and the bullets came rattling over to where we were standing, I started off to join the regiment, saying to myself that I had better be shot than die of cold and hunger, so I walked forward into the wood. On the way I overtook a corporal of my company dragging himself painfully along, so we helped each other and arrived at the regiment together. There we saw a fire, and as the corporal was shivering with fever, I led him up to it. Hardly had we arrived, when a ball struck my poor comrade in the chest, and stretched him dead at my feet. I could not help crying out, 'Poor Marcelin! How lucky you are!' Just then the rumour ran that Marshal Oudinot was wounded.