cts like other
people.

The next day came the battle. Napoleonder led his forces, cloud upon
cloud, to the field of Borodino; but he was shaking as if in a chill.
His generals and field-marshals looked at him and were filled with
dismay.

"You ought to take a drink of vodka, Napoleonder," they say; "you don't
look like yourself."

When the Russian troops attacked the hordes of Napoleonder, on the field
of Borodino, the soldiers of the great conqueror at once gave way.

"It's a bad business, Napoleonder," the generals and field-marshals say.
"For some reason the Russians are fighting harder to-day than ever.
You'd better call out your dead men."

Napoleonder shouted at the top of his voice, "Bonaparty!"--six hundred
and sixty-six,--the number of the Beast. But, cry as he would, he only
frightened the jackdaws. The dead men didn't come out of their graves,
nor answer his call. And Napoleonder was left on the field of Borodino
alone. All his generals and field-marshals had fled, and he sat there
alone on his horse, shouting, "Bonaparty! Bonaparty!"

Then suddenly there appeared beside him the smooth-faced, blue-eyed,
fair-haired Russian recruit whom he had killed the day before. And the
young soldier said: "It's useless to shout, Napoleonder. Nobody will
come. Yesterday you felt sorry for me and for my dead brothers, and
because of your pity your corpse-soldiers no longer come at your call.
Your power over them is gone."

Then Napoleonder began to weep and sob, and cried out, "You have ruined
me, you wretched, miserable soldier!"

But the soldier (who was Ivan-angel, and not a soldier at all) replied:
"I have not ruined you, Napoleonder; I have saved you. If you had gone
on in your merciless, pitiless course, there would have been no
forgiveness for you, either in this life or in the life to come. Now God
has given you time for repentance. In this world you shall be punished;
but there, beyond, if you repent of your sins, you shall be forgiven."

And the angel vanished.

Then our Don Cossacks fell on Napoleonder, dragged him from his horse,
and took him to Alexander the Blessed. Some said, "Napoleonder ought to
be shot!" Others cried, "Send him to Siberia to!" But the Lord God
softened the heart of Alexander the Blessed, and the merciful Tsar would
not allow Napoleonder to be shot or sent to Siberia. He ordered that the
great conqueror be put into an iron cage, and be carried around and
exhibited to the people