"Sire, I left all the army, from the generals to the meanest soldier, possessed with one overpowering and terrible fear—"
"How? Whence these fears? Are my Russians overcome by the first misfortune?" the Czar interrupted with emotion which even he could not restrain, and which, as Michaud says, "altered for a moment the noble calm of his fine features."
"Never, sire!" resumed the colonel. "Their one fear is that your Majesty, out of kindness of heart, may be persuaded to make peace. They are burning to fight for you, and to prove their devotion by the sacrifice of their lives."
At these heroic words the light flashed once more across the clouded face of Alexander. "You reassure me, colonel," he said. "Well then, return to the army. Say to our brave men, say to all my subjects wherever you meet them, that if I had not a soldier left, I should put myself at the head of my dear nobles, of my faithful peasants, and expend to the uttermost the resources of my empire. They are greater than my enemies think. But if it be the will of God that my dynasty shall cease to reign upon the throne of my ancestors, then—after having done all else that man can do—I will let my beard grow to this," said Alexander, placing his hand upon his breast, "and I will eat potatoes like the lowest of my mujiks, rather than sign the humiliation of my country and of my dear people, whose sacrifices for my sake I appreciate." Here his voice failed: it was easier to speak of his own ruin than of the love of his subjects. Greatly moved, he turned away from Michaud, and walked to the other end of the cabinet. But he came back almost immediately with long and rapid strides, and a face that had quickly changed from a deadly pallor to a fiery flush. Pressing his hand on the arm of the officer, he said, "Colonel Michaud, do not forget my words; perhaps one day we shall remember them with pleasure. Napoleon or I—I or Napoleon—we can no longer reign together. I know him now; he shall never deceive me again."
