The noise indeed grew louder, the alarm sounded, the men ran to take up their arms. Madame Gentil rushed into the room exclaiming:
'Gentlemen, the Cossacks!'
'We are just going to make them dance,' said Picart.
Hurriedly I arranged my things, and directly afterwards I was embracing Madame Gentil, while Picart and Grangier, like proper soldiers, were emptying the last bottle. I tossed off a final glass, then rushed into the street behind my friends.
We had not taken thirty steps, when I heard someone calling me. I turned, and saw the fat Christian, who was making signs to me to stop, saying I had forgotten something. Madame Gentil was standing in the passage. As soon as she caught sight of me, she cried out:
'You have forgotten your little kettle.'
My poor little kettle that I had carried from Wilna, that I had bought from the Jew who tried to poison me—I had really not given it a thought. I went in to embrace this dear woman once more, who had nursed me and cared for me as if I had been her brother or her child. I told her to keep my kettle as a remembrance of me.
'You can use it to boil water in for tea, and every time you do so you will think of the young sergeant-vélite of the Guard. Farewell!'
I heard the roar of artillery still louder; again I rushed out into the street, this time not to return.