e Emperor. "I wish I could be surrounded only with men like you;
but such men are very rare."

CHAPTER XII.

We had now reached the eve of the day on which the Emperor, still deeply
affected by the loss he had sustained in the death of the Duke of Istria,
was to receive a blow which he felt perhaps most keenly of all those
which struck deep into his heart as he saw his old companions in arms
fall around him. The day following that on which the Emperor had, with
Baron Larrey, the discussion which I related at the end of the preceding
chapter was made memorable by the irreparable loss of Marshal Duroc. The
Emperor's heart was crushed; and indeed not one of us failed to shed
sincere tears--so just and good was he, although grave and severe in his
manner towards persons whom the nature of their duties brought into
contact with him. It was a loss not only to the Emperor, who possessed
in him a true friend, but, I dare to assert, also to the whole of France.
He loved the Emperor with a passionate devotion, and never failed to
bestow on him his faithful admonitions, although they were not always
heeded. The death of Marshal Duroc was an event so grievous and so
totally unexpected, that we remained for some time uncertain whether to
believe it, even when the only too evident reality no longer permitted us
to remain under any delusion.

These are the circumstances under which this fatal event occurred which
spread consternation throughout the army: The Emperor was pursuing the
rear guard of the Russians, who continually eluded him, and had just
escaped for the tenth time since the morning, after having killed and
taken prisoners large numbers of our brave soldiers, when two or three
shells dug up the ground at the Emperor's feet, and caused him to
exclaim, "What! after such butchery no result! no prisoners! those men
there will not leave me a nail." Hardly had he finished speaking when a
shell passed, and threw a chasseur of the cavalry escort almost under the
legs of his Majesty's horse. "Ah, Duroc," added he, turning towards
the grand marshal, "fortune protects us to-day."--"Sire," said an
aide-de-camp, rushing, up at a gallop, "General Bruyeres has just been
killed." "My poor comrade of Italy! Is it possible? Ah! it is
necessary to push on, nevertheless." And noticing on the left an
elevation from which he could better observe what was passing, the
Emperor started in that direction amidst a cloud of dust. The Duke of