Eleven Cossacks had come to a standstill, and were probably only awaiting our departure to come and take our places. 'Come,' said the gunner, 'we must give up the position and beat a retreat on Wilbalen. We have only another league; so come, let us be off!'
We had to take to the road again; there were six of us—four gunners, the little soldier and myself. We left the barn. It was December 16th, the fifty-ninth day's march since leaving Moscow. The wind was high and the cold terrible. All at once, in spite of all that my comrade could do to hold me, I sank down, overcome with sleep and fatigue. The efforts of my companion and two gunners were necessary to get me on my feet, although when there I was still asleep. I awoke, however, when a gunner rubbed my face with snow. Then he made me swallow a little brandy; that pulled me together a little.
They each took an arm, and so made me walk much faster than I could have done alone. It was in this way that I reached Wilbalen. On entering the town, we learned that King Murat was in it with all the remnant of the Imperial Guard.
In spite of the great cold there was plenty of bustle going on in the town on the part of the soldiers, who were in hopes of buying bread and brandy from the numerous Jews in the place. At the door of each house, too, there was a sentinel, and whenever anyone presented himself for admission he was answered that some General lodged there, or some Colonel, or that there was no more room. We were told by others to go and 'look for our own regiment.' The gunners found some comrades of their own, and went off with them. I was beginning to be in despair, when I was told by a peasant that in the first street to the left there were only a few people. We went there, but always found a sentinel at every door, and everywhere the same response. I saw for myself that inside the houses the men were heaped up on one another. However, we could not remain very long in the street without dying of cold.
It would be difficult to express how much I suffered on this day from cold, but still more from disappointment at seeing myself repulsed everywhere, and that, too, by comrades.
At last I spoke to a Grenadier, who told me there were people everywhere, but ill-will and selfishness as well, and that no attention must be paid to the houses being sentinelled; that one must go in, 'For I see,' he continued, 'that you are in a bad way.'
Making a sign to my comrade to follow me, I turned to enter the first house I came to. An old fellow barred the way with his musket, saying that it was the Colonel's quarters, and that there was no more room. I answered that, even were it the Emperor's lodging, there would have to be room for two, and that I should go in. Just then I caught sight of another Grenadier busy fastening a pair of officer's epaulettes on to the shoulders of his overcoat. To my great surprise I recognised Picart, my old companion, whom I had not seen since leaving Wilna, on December 6th. Instantly I said:
'Tell Colonel Picart that Sergeant Bourgogne is asking him for room.'
'You are mistaken,' he answered.
But without listening to him, I forced my way past the sentry; the other followed me, and we entered.