I caught sight of a foot soldier who had propped himself against a window, and was fixing his bayonet to the end of his musket. I asked him if the Russians were in the town.
'No, no; not at all.... Don't you see it is that brute of a General Roguet striking at everybody with his baton? But just let him come here; I'm waiting for him....'
We had not yet left the house, when I saw Adjutant-Major Roustan come to a halt in front of the door. Recognising me, he said: 'Well, what are you doing there? Out with you! No one is to remain within a house, no matter of what regiment, for I have orders to strike down any and everybody.'
We came out, but the peasant, whom we had forgotten, naturally remained in his own house, and closed the door. The Adjutant-Major, who saw the movement, and thought it was a soldier wanting to hide himself, opened it again in his turn, entered the house, and ordered the new soldier to get out, or he would be knocked down. The peasant looked at him without replying. The Adjutant-Major seized the man by the belt, and thrust him into the midst of us. The poor devil now tried to struggle, and to explain in his own language. He was not listened to; the Adjutant-Major, simply thinking it was because he had not given him the time to bring away his knapsack and gun, re-entered the house, took them both, and brought them to him. In the house he saw the dead man and two women weeping; so, coming out, he said aloud: 'This rascal here is not so stupid as he looks; he wanted to stay in the house in order to console the widow. He looks like a German. Of what company is he? I don't remember having seen him.'
No one paid much attention to what the Adjutant was saying; each one had enough to do to look after himself. The wife, who had heard her husband's voice, had run to the door where we were still standing. The man, on seeing her, began to speak, but could not make her recognise him. There he was amongst us, not able to stir; she never imagined that a Lithuanian, the Emperor of Russia's subject, had the honour of being a French soldier of the Imperial Guard, marching off, not to glory, but to misery. The whole affair took less than ten minutes. I have thought since that the poor devil must have felt pretty miserable, penned up there in the midst of us.
We set off, but very slowly. We were in an alley, where were several men who had died in the night from drinking brandy, and being afterwards seized by the cold; the greater number, however, were to be found in the town, which I did not enter.
Meanwhile we reached the place where there are two ways leading to the bridge over the Niemen. We now walked more easily, and in a few minutes we were on the banks of the stream. There we saw that several thousand men were already in front of us, squeezing and pushing to get across. As the bridge was narrow, a large number climbed down on to the ice-covered river, which was not strong enough to bear. It consisted merely of pieces of ice that had been thawed and frozen over again. At the risk of being drowned or hurt, everyone tried to get across as quickly as possible, thinking that once on the further side we would be safe. We found out later how greatly we were deceived.
While waiting till we could pass, Colonel Bodelin, who commanded our regiment, ordered the officers to prevent anyone crossing the bridge by himself. We were now about sixty men, or thereabouts, the remnant of 2,000, all grouped around the Colonel. He looked sadly on the remains of his fine regiment, probably drawing a contrast in his own mind. Five months before we had passed over this same bridge with the whole great and brilliant army, and now it was almost annihilated! To encourage us he made us a speech; I am afraid very few listened.