orderly and mutinous French soldiers
remained in considerable numbers to plunder; these were for the most
part caught by the entering Russians, and inhumanly done to death. In
all these days the cold had not abated, and at times the thermometer
marked fifteen degrees below zero.

The further line of retreat was through Krasnoi, Borrissoff, and
Minsk, the Emperor expecting Schwarzenberg, reinforced by fourteen
thousand German recruits, to cover the crossing of the Beresina at
Borrissoff. The Russians followed doggedly on their parallel line of
pursuit, harassing the French rear and flanks. On the fifteenth their
van came in touch with Napoleon's division near Krasnoi almost as he
himself passed, and their artillery opened fire. The balls yelled as
they sped by, and there was great excitement. Lebrun called attention
to the fact as if it were remarkable. "Bah!" said Napoleon, as he
pressed forward; "bullets have been flying about our legs these twenty
years." He well knew that his anxious foe would not seriously attack
him and his guard; but, justly considering that the case would be
different in regard to his rear, he halted to await their arrival.
Early on the morning of the seventeenth he sent out a reconnoitering
party, as if about to wheel and give battle; Kutusoff, who for the
moment was considerably inferior in numbers, fell instantly into the
snare, and drawing back his van, as Napoleon had foreseen and desired,
made ready for battle.

Eugene and Davout were within reach, but Ney's position was terrible:
he was only then leaving Smolensk. Was he to be left to his fate?
Around and behind his six thousand troops were swarming almost as many
stragglers; and on the eighteenth the Russians, in spite of their
momentary halt, threw forward their van with the hope of cutting off
his hampered and sore-pressed division. But the short delay had been
precious: Ney rose to the occasion, and on the nineteenth crossed the
Dnieper over the ice, hoping to follow the right bank westward and
rejoin the main army at Orcha. This was one of his most daring feats,
perhaps his most brilliant deed of arms. Summoned by a flag of truce
to surrender, he replied: "A marshal of the Empire has never
surrendered!" Platoff and the Cossacks were hard on his heels; but
fighting and marching throughout the weary, bitter day, at night the
undaunted marshal found himself in touch with Eugene, who had turned
out on the highway from Vitebsk to Orcha t