He knew the fate that awaited him; he had heard the order given in French. While he was speaking to me, he stopped suddenly, and gazed wildly in front of him. I asked him what was the matter, but he did not answer. Soon afterwards he sighed heavily and began to weep again, saying that he was looking for the place where his house had stood, and that it must be there, as he recognised the large stove still standing. I must here say that we could see as plainly as in broad daylight, not only the town itself, but far beyond.
Just then the head of the column, which was detached from the Polish Lancers, stopped still, not knowing where to turn, as the narrow street was completely blocked up. I took advantage of this delay to let the unhappy man satisfy himself whether the bodies of his wife and son were among the ashes of his house, and I offered to accompany him. We went to the site of the house, and at first saw nothing to confirm his suspicions. I was beginning to comfort him, saying that no doubt they were saved, when, at the entrance to the cellar, I saw something blackened and without form, all twisted up. I examined it, and found it to be a dead body, but whether man or woman it was impossible to see. I had hardly time, either, for the Swiss, who had come up behind me, uttered a frightful cry and fell to the ground. I raised him with the help of a man who stood near, but when he came to himself, he rushed in despair all over the ruins of his house, and with another terrible cry he called for his son, and flung himself into the cellar, where I heard him fall heavily like an inert mass.
I did not wish to follow him; I hastened to rejoin the detachment, reflecting sadly on what I had just seen. One of my friends asked me what I had done with the man who spoke French, and I told him of the tragic scene I had just witnessed. As we were still halted, I asked him to come and see the place. We went to the cellar door, and heard groaning. My comrade proposed to go down and help him, but, knowing that to save him from the cellar was to lead him to certain death, as all the prisoners were to be shot, I said that it would be very foolhardy to descend into such a place without a light.
Luckily the order 'To arms!' was given at that moment. We waited while the left column started, and as we were preparing to follow, we heard steps behind us. I turned round, and was astounded to see the poor Swiss, looking like a ghost, and with his arms laden with furs to cover the bodies of his wife and son. He had found his son dead in the cellar, but not burnt; the body at the door was his wife's. I advised him to return to the cellar, and hide himself till we had left, when he could perform his painful duty. I do not know if he understood me, but we left him.
We reached the Kremlin at five o'clock in the morning, and put the prisoners in a place of safety; but I took the precaution to keep back the two tailors, father and son, on my own account. As will be seen, they were very useful to us during our stay in Moscow.
On the 20th the fire had slackened a little. The Governor of the town, Marshal Mortier, and General Milhaud, who was appointed Commandant of the Place, were both very active in organizing a body of police. This was formed from the Italians, Germans, and Frenchmen living in Moscow who had escaped Rostopchin's rigorous orders to leave the city by hiding themselves.
While I was looking out of the window of our quarters at mid-day, I saw the shooting of a convict. He refused to kneel down, but met his death bravely, and, striking his breast, he seemed to defy his executioners. A few hours afterwards our prisoners met with the same fate.
I spent the day quietly enough, but at seven o'clock the Adjutant-Major, Delaître, ordered me to surrender myself at a place he named to me for having allowed three prisoners entrusted to me to escape. I made what excuses I could, and went to the place indicated; other non-commissioned officers were there already. I reflected that my conscience was quite clear for having saved the lives of these men, convinced as I was of their innocence.
The room I was in opened on to a long, narrow gallery connecting the house with another wing of the building. A part of this wing had been burnt, so that no one inhabited it, and I noticed that the portion still standing had not been examined. I was naturally curious to see it, and having nothing to do, I went to the end of the gallery. I fancied I heard a noise coming from a room with a closed door. I listened, and thought I distinguished the words of a language I did not understand. I knocked at the door, but no one answered, and profound silence followed. I then looked through the keyhole, and saw a man lying on a sofa, and two women standing, who appeared to be keeping him from talking. I knew a few words of Polish, which is much like Russian, so I knocked again, and begged for some water. No answer came; but at my second request, which I made more forcible by a kick on the door, they came and opened it. When I entered the room, the two women rushed out into another. I closed the door, but the man on the sofa never moved. At once I recognised him for a criminal of the lowest type, dirty all over from his beard to his boots. His clothes consisted of a sheepskin cloak and a leather belt; near him were a lance and two torches, besides two pistols at his belt. These last I took from him, and seizing one of the torches, I hit him on the side with it, and made him open his eyes. On seeing me, he jumped up as if to spring upon me, but fell flat down again. I aimed one of his pistols at him, but he only gazed at me stupidly, and, trying to rise, fell again. After some time, he at last succeeded in keeping on his feet. Seeing how drunk he was, I took hold of his arm, and leading him from the room, I took him to the end of the gallery. When we reached the top of the staircase, which descended straight down like a ladder, I gave him a push; he rolled down like a barrel, and fell almost against the guard-room door opposite the stairs. The men dragged him to a room where they locked up all of his description, and I did not hear him speak again.
This expedition over, I returned to the room where I had found the man, and shut myself in. I looked well round to see that there was no one about, then opened the second door, and saw the two Dulcineas sitting on a sofa. They did not seem surprised to see me, but both started talking at once, I not understanding a word. I tried to ask them if they had anything to eat; they understood me perfectly, and gave me cucumber, onions, a large piece of salt fish, and a little beer, but no bread. Afterwards the younger of the two brought me a bottle of something she called kosalki; when I tasted it, I knew it was Dantzig gin. In less than half an hour we had emptied the bottle, my two Muscovites doing more service than I.