a, where the Emperor
saw with intense satisfaction that at last the Russians were determined
to grant him the great battle which he so ardently desired, and which he
had pursued for more than two hundred leagues as prey that he would not
allow to escape him.

CHAPTER V.

THE day after the battle of the Moskwa, I was with the Emperor in his
tent which was on the field of battle, and the most perfect calm reigned
around us. It was a fine spectacle which this army presented, calmly
re-forming its columns in which the Russian cannon had made such wide
gaps, and proceeding to the repose of the bivouac with the security
which conquerors ever feel. The Emperor seemed overcome with fatigue.
From time to time he clasped his hands over his crossed knees, and I
heard him each time repeat, with a kind of convulsive movement, "Moscow!
Moscow!" He sent me several times to see what was going on outside, then
rose himself, and coming up behind me looked out over my shoulder. The
noise made by the sentinel in presenting arms each time warned me of his
approach. After about a quarter of an hour of these silent marches to
and fro, the sentinel advanced and cried, "To arms!" and like a
lightning flash the battalion square was formed around the Emperor's
tent. He rushed out, and then re-entered to take his hat and sword. It
proved to be a false alarm, as a regiment of Saxons returning from a
raid had been mistaken for the enemy.

There was much laughter over this mistake, especially when the raiders
came in sight, some bearing quarters of meat spitted on the ends of their
bayonets, others with half-picked fowls or hams which made the mouth
water. I was standing outside the tent, and shall never forget the first
movement of the sentinel as he gave the cry of alarm. He lowered the
stock of his gun to see if the priming was in place, shook the barrel by
striking it with his fist, then replaced the gun on his arm, saying,
"Well, let them come; we are ready for them." I told the occurrence to
the Emperor, who in his turn related it to Prince Berthier; and in
consequence the Emperor made this brave soldier drink a glass of his best
Chambertin wine.

It was the Duke of Dantzic who first entered Moscow, and the Emperor came
only after him. This entry was made in the night, and never was there a
more depressing scene. There was something truly frightful in this
silent march of an army halted at intervals by messages from inside the
city,