Europe and Napoleon 5 17 wounds. They wrapped these unfortunates as warmly as possible, cheered them from time to time with a glass of brandy when they could procure it, and lavished upon them the most touching attention. There were many who behaved in this unselfish manner, of whose names we are ignorant; and how few returned to enjoy in their own country the remembrance of the most heroic deeds of their lives ! On the 29th the emperor quitted the banks of the Bere- sina and we slept at Kamen, where his Majesty occupied a poor wooden building which the icy air penetrated from all sides through the windows, for nearly all the glass was broken. We closed the openings as well as we could with bundles of hay. A short distance from us, in a large lot, were penned up the wretched Russian prisoners whom the army drove before it. I had much difficulty in comprehend- ing the delusion of victory which our poor soldiers still kept up by dragging after them this wretched luxury of prisoners, who could only be an added burden, as they required con- stant surveillance. When the conquerors are dying of fam- ine, what becomes of the conquered ? These poor Russians, exhausted by marches and hunger, nearly all perished that night. . . . On the 3d of December we arrived at Malodeczno. Dur- ing the whole day the emperor appeared thoughtful and anxious. He had frequent confidential conversations with the grand equerry, Monsieur de Coulaincourt, and I ex- pected some extraordinary measure. I was not mistaken in my conjectures. At two leagues from Smorghoni the duke of Vicenza summoned me and told me to go on in front and give orders to have the six best horses harnessed to my car- riage, which was the lightest of all, and keep them in con- stant readiness. I reached Smorghoni before the emperor, who did not arrive until the following night. . . . After sup- per the emperor ordered prince Eugene to read the twenty- ninth bulletin and spoke freely of his plans, saying that his departure was essential in order to send help to the army. . . . The emperor left in the night. By daybreak the army had learned the news, and the impression it made cannot be
