sion
been made to rough them. This was a sign not lost upon those who had
horses to care for. The Emperor, who forgot nothing, had forgotten this.
He who foresaw everything, had omitted to foresee the winter. He had
ordered a retreat from Moscow, in the middle of October, of an army in
summer clothing, without provision for the road. The only hope was to
retreat through a new line of country not despoiled by the enormous army
in its advance of every grain of corn, every blade of grass. But this
hope was frustrated by the Russians who, hemming them in, forced them to
keep the road along which they had made so triumphant a march on Moscow.

Already, in the ranks, it was whispered that by the light of the burning
city some had perceived dark forms moving on the distant plains--a
Russian army passing westward in front of them to await and cut them off
at the passage of some river. The Russians had fought well at Borodino:
they fought desperately at Malo-Jaroslavetz, which town was taken and
retaken eleven times and left in cinders.

The Grand Army was no longer in a position to choose its way. It was
forced to cross again the battlefield of Borodino, where thirty thousand
dead lay yet unburied. But Napoleon was still with them, his genius
flashing out at times with something of the fire which had taken men's
breath away and burnt his name indelibly into the pages of the world's
history. Even when hard pressed, he never missed a chance of attacking.
The enemy never made a mistake that he did not give them reason to rue
it.

To the waiting world came at length the news that the winter, so long
retarded, had closed down over Russia. In Dantzig, so near the frontier,
a hundred rumours chased each other through the streets; and day by day
Antoine Sebastian grew younger and gayer. It seemed as if a weight
long laid upon his heart had been lifted at last. He made a journey to
Konigsberg soon after Barlasch's return, and came back with eager eyes.
His correspondence was enormous. He had, it seemed, a hundred
friends who gave him news and asked something in exchange--advice,
encouragement, warning. And all the while men whispered that Prussia
would ally herself to Russia, Sweden, and England.

From Paris came news of a growing discontent. For France, among a
multitude of virtues, has one vice unpardonable to Northern men: she
turns from a fallen friend.

Soon followed the news of Beresina--a poor little river of
Lithuania--whe