shouts of the moujiks and the cries of frightened women until we found
ourselves in front of the great town-hall. My cavalry I drew up in the
square, and I, with my two sergeants, Oudin and Papilette, rushed into
the building.

Heavens! shall I ever forget the sight which greeted us? Right in front
of us was drawn up a triple line of Russian Grenadiers. Their muskets
rose as we entered, and a crashing volley burst into our very faces.
Oudin and Papilette dropped upon the floor, riddled with bullets.

For myself, my busby was shot away and I had two holes through my
dolman. The Grenadiers ran at me with their bayonets. "Treason!" I
cried. "We are betrayed! Stand to your horses!" I rushed out of the
hall, but the whole square was swarming with troops.

From every side street Dragoons and Cossacks were riding down upon us,
and such a rolling fire had burst from the surrounding houses that half
my men and horses were on the ground. "Follow me!" I yelled, and sprang
upon Violette, but a giant of a Russian Dragoon officer threw his arms
round me and we rolled on the ground together.

He shortened his sword to kill me, but, changing his mind, he seized
me by the throat and banged my head against the stones until I was
unconscious. So it was that I became the prisoner of the Russians.

When I came to myself my only regret was that my captor had not beaten
out my brains. There in the grand square of Minsk lay half my troopers
dead or wounded, with exultant crowds of Russians gathered round them.

The rest in a melancholy group were herded into the porch of the
town-hall, a sotnia of Cossacks keeping guard over them. Alas! what
could I say, what could I do? It was evident that I had led my men into
a carefully-baited trap. They had heard of our mission and they had
prepared for us. And yet there was that despatch which had caused me to
neglect all precautions and to ride straight into the town. How was I to
account for that? The tears ran down my cheeks as I surveyed the ruin of
my squadron, and as I thought of the plight of my comrades of the Grand
Army who awaited the food which I was to have brought them. Ney had
trusted me and I had failed him. How often he would strain his eyes over
the snow-fields for that convoy of grain which should never gladden his
sight! My own fate was hard enough. An exile in Siberia was the best
which the future could bring me. But you will believe me, my friends,
that it was not for his own