pillar in the temple of my
fame; will be the first step in my knightly profession, or perhaps even
lead me to the throne! A well aimed cannon often settles the fate of a
war. And how did Napoleon get his start, if not as a gunner? Full of these
dreams I fell in love with my bronze cannon as if with a young girl and
from then on I was always beside her. I examined her defects and
attributes, I debated character and got to know most precisely her entire
composition and nature; physical as moral. She is so well engraved in my
memory, that I could paint her portrait from memory. I knew sound of her
voice so well that I could have recognised it amongst the roar of the
liveliest cannonade, even if it were Leipzig, or Ostroleka. My beloved
cannon! what happened to you? into whose hands did you fall? Certainly
nobody will caress you as I did{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} Only that thought comforts me. She was
admittedly a little eight pounder, but to me she was huge, as she was
pregnant with my entire future. As well as well settled, simple to
manoeuvre and with a strangely accurate shot. A whole day was barely
enough for me in fulfilling my duties by the beloved cannon, and at night
I didn't stop thinking about the object of my love. And so, one night I
dreamed of battle, and who did I see opposite me? Field Marshall von
Diebitsch! At once I take aim--poof! and my cannon ball cuts him in two. I
took off, to tear off his head and carry it still warm to our
Commander-in-Chief, Prince Radziwill; but the corpse of von Diebitsch was
so heavily defended, that until I awoke completely into reality, instead
of the head of the Muscovite leader, I held the head of the gunner
sleeping opposite me. Another night a worse thing happened to me: I
dreamed that the Muscovite cavalry fell on us unexpectedly; they killed me
in advance, then cut down my gunners, and finally a Muscovite cuirassier
mounted my cannon like a horse and started to plug it, looking at me with
contemptuous eyes. Then I felt all the torments of the husband of Lucretia
and the torments of the father of Virginia. Although I was already a cold
and stiff corpse, nevertheless I gathered all my strength to give some
sign of life and adjusting to myself, I managed at last to scream so
strongly, that I both woke myself and alarmed the entire camp. Having
jumped to my feet, and just as day was beginning to break, my eyes seek my
cannon and I see with no little joy, that she's there, that s