ivouac fires failed to rise. The victims of the night
were often revealed only by the small mounds of fallen snow which had
buried them as they slept.

That this picture may not be thought overdrawn, we shall relate an
anecdote told of Prince Emilius of Darmstadt. He had fallen asleep in
the snow, and in order to protect him from the keen north wind four of
his Hessian dragoons screened him during the night with their cloaks.
The prince arose from his cold couch in the morning to find his faithful
guardians still in the position they had occupied during the
night,--frozen to death.

Maddened with famine and frost, men were seen to spring, with wildly
exulting cries, into the flames of burning houses. Of those that fell
into the hands of the Russian boors, many were stripped of their
clothing and chased to death through the snow. Smolensk, which the army
had passed in its glory, it now reached in its gloom. The city was
deserted and half burned. Most of the cannon had been abandoned, food
and ammunition were lacking, and no halt was possible. The despairing
army pushed on.

Death followed the fugitives in other forms than those of frost and
hunger. The Russians, who had avoided the army in its advance, harassed
it continually in its retreat. From all directions Russian troops
marched upon the worn-out fugitives, grimly determined that not a man of
them should leave Russia if they could prevent. The intrepid Ney, with
the men still capable of fight, formed the rear-guard, and kept at bay
their foes. This service was one of imminent peril. Cut off at Smolensk
from the main body, only Ney's vigilance saved his men from destruction.
During the night he led them rapidly along the banks of the Dnieper,
repulsing the Russian corps that sought to cut off his retreat, and
joined the army again.

The Beresina at length was reached. This river must be crossed. But the
frightful chill, which hitherto had pursued the fleeing host, now
inopportunely decreased, a thaw broke the frozen surface of the stream,
and the fugitives gazed with horror on masses of floating ice where they
had dreamed of a solid pathway for their feet. The slippery state of the
banks added to the difficulty, while on the opposite side a Russian army
commanded the passage with its artillery, and in the rear the roar of
cannon signalled the approach of another army. All seemed lost, and
only the good fortune which had so often befriended him now saved
Napoleon