We gave them up for lost, knowing the distance separating us from them, and no help being possible. A Russian superior officer went up to them, telling them to surrender; the officer in command of the French answered him by killing him. Upon this the cavalry, terrified, ran away and left our men masters of the field.[15]
On the 10th we followed the enemy until the evening; and when we stopped I was put in command of a guard near a château where the Emperor lodged. I had just placed my men on a road leading to the château, when a Polish servant, whose master was on the Emperor's staff, passed near us, leading a horse laden with baggage. The horse was worn out, sank down, and refused to get up again. The servant took the baggage and went off. He had hardly left us when the men, who were hungry, killed the horse, so that all night we were busy eating it and cooking for the next day.
Soon afterwards the Emperor passed on foot, accompanied by Murat and a member of the Conseil d'Etat, on their way to the highroad. I made my sentries present arms. The Emperor stopped in front of us, and near the horse, which filled up the road. He asked me if we were eating it.
I replied, 'Yes.'
He smiled and said, 'Patience! In four days we shall be at Moscow, where you will have rest and proper food—however good that horse may be.'
His prediction was fulfilled, for four days afterwards we arrived at that city.
The next day (the 11th) and following days we marched in beautiful weather. On the 13th we slept at a place near a beautiful abbey, and several other fine buildings. We could see that we were approaching a great capital.
On the 14th we set out very early; we passed near a ravine where the Russians had begun to make redoubts for defence, and directly afterwards we entered a great forest of pines and birches, where we found a beautiful road. Now we were quite near Moscow.
On that day I was with an advance guard of fifteen men. After marching for an hour, the Imperial column halted, and just then I saw a linesman with his left arm in a sling. He was leaning on his musket, and seemed to be waiting for someone. I recognised him at once as one of the Condé men who had been to see me at Witebsk. He was there hoping to meet me. I went up to him, and asked him after his friends.
'They are well,' he answered, striking the ground with the butt-end of his musket. 'They all died on the field of honour, as they say, and were buried in the great redoubt. They were killed by round shot. Ah, sergeant,' he went on, 'never shall I forget that battle—what slaughter!'