I was stunned by my fall, and lay still for a minute, when one of the thieves lit a bit of straw to see me better. It was impossible to discover what regiment I belonged to on account of my bearskin. As soon, however, as he caught sight of the Imperial eagle on my shako, he called out in a jeering way, 'Ah! the Imperial Guard! Out with you! out with you!' And the others repeated, 'Get out! Out with you!'
I was stupefied and not at all alarmed by their shouting, and I got up to beg them to let me stay till morning, as fate or luck had brought me there. But the man who had spoken first, and seemed to be the chief, replied that I must go at once, and they all chorused, 'Be off! Out with you!'
A German was laying his hands on me, when I gave him a blow in the chest that sent him sprawling among the others, putting my hand on the hilt of my sword at the same time (my musket had been left behind in my roll down the hill). The chief applauded me for the blow I had given, saying a German, a sauerkraut-eater, had no business to touch a Frenchman. As I saw that the man was disposed to take my part, I announced that I would not go away until the morning, and that I would rather be killed than die of cold on the road. One of two women there began to put in a word for me, but was immediately ordered, in curses and filthy language, to be silent. The chief told me again to go, asking me not to oblige him to use force, as, if he did, the question would soon be settled, and I should be sent flying to rejoin my regiment.
I asked him why he and his companions were not there also, and he told me it was none of my business, that he had nothing to do with me, that he was master here, and that I could not spend the night with him, as I should be in their way when they made their night excursions, taking advantage of the disorder of the town. I then asked for permission to stay and warm myself, and said that afterwards I would go. Not receiving any answer, I asked a second time; the chief said he would consent if I left in half an hour. He ordered a drummer, who seemed to be second in command, to see that this was done.
THE BRIDGE OVER THE KOLOTSCHA NEAR BORODINO, SEPTEMBER 17, 1812.
From a sketch made at the time by an officer of Napoleon's army.
As I wished to make the best of my opportunity, I asked if anyone had any food or brandy to sell. 'If we had,' they said, 'we should keep it ourselves.'
However, the little cask I had seen on the Baden man's shoulders looked very like brandy, and I understood when he said in his own language that he had taken it from a cantinière in his regiment, who had hidden it when the army came into the town. I concluded from this that the man was a new-comer, one of the garrison, and had only joined the thieves the day before, choosing, as they had done, to leave his regiment for the sake of plunder.
The drummer who was to see me out talked mysteriously with the others, and then asked me if I had any gold to buy brandy with.